cc 

U-l 


^. 


& 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ctr 

LXJ 


•  /\VJ  «  U  U  I  I    J  ' 


:<1!B!'.',!:Y^          ^-l!?n\RYO/ 
if  1    t  r~  ^     if 


PHILIP   THE   SECOND. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  REIGN 


OF 


PHILIP  THE  SECOND, 


KING  OF  SPAIN. 


BY 

WILLIAM    H.    PRESCOTT, 

COBBE8POMDINQ   MEMBER  OF  THK  INSTITUTE  OF   FRANCE,  OF  THE   BOYAL  ACADEMY   OF 
HISTORY   AT   MADRID,  ETC. 


NEW  AND  REVISED  EDITION, 
WITH  THE  AUTHOR'S  LATEST  CORRECTIONS  AND  ADDITIONS. 


EDITED  BY 

JOHN  FOSTER  KIRK. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY. 
1891. 


Copyright,  1855, 
By  WILLIAM  H.  PRESCOTT. 

Copyright,  1858, 
By  WILLIAM  H.  PRESCOTT. 

Copyright,  1874, 
By  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &  Co. 

Copyright,  1882, 
By  WILLIAM  G.  PRESCOTT. 

Copyright,  1886, 
By  WILLIAM  G.  PRESCOTT. 


College 
Library 


//ft 


PKBFACE. 


THE  reign  of  Philip  the  Second  has  occupied  the  pen  of  the  historian  more 
frequently — if  we  except  that  of  Charles  the  Fifth — than  any  other  portion  of 
the  Spanish  annals.  It  has  become  familiar  to  the  English  reader  through 
the  pages  of  Watson,  who  has  deservedly  found  favour  with  the  public  for  the 
perspicuity  of  his  style, — a  virtue,  however,  not  uncommon  in  his/day, — for  the 
sobriety  of  his  judgments,  and  for  the  skill  he  has  shown  in  arranging  his 
complicated  story,  so  as  to  maintain  the  reader's  interest  unbroken  to  the  end. 
But  the  public,  in  Watson's  day,  were  not  very  fastidious  in  regard  to  the 
sources  of  the  information  on  which  a  narrative  was  founded.  Nor  was  it 
easy  to  obtain  access  to  those  unpublished  documents  which  constitute  the  best 
sources  of  information.  Neither  can  it  be  denied  that  Watson  himself  was 
not  so  solicitous  as  he  should  have  been  to  profit  by  opportunities  which  a 
little  pains  might  have  put  within  his  reach, — presenting,  in  this  respect,  a  con- 
trast to  his  more  celebrated  predecessor,  Robertson  ;  that  he  contented  himself 
too  easily  with  such  cheap  and  commonplace  materials  as  lay  directly  in  his 
path ;  and  that,  consequently,  the  foundations  of  his  history  are  much  too 
slight  for  the  superstructure.  For  these  reasons,  the  reign  of  Philip  the 
Second  must  still  be  regarded  as  open  ground  for  English  and  American 
writers. 

And  at  no  time  could  the  history  of  this  reign  have  been  undertaken  with 
the  same  advantages  as  at  present,  when  the  more  enlightened  policy  of  the 
European  governments  has  opened  their  national  archives  to  the  inspection 
of  the  scholar ;  when  he  is  allowed  access,  in  particular,  to  the  Archives  of 
Simancas,  which  have  held  the  secrets  of  the  Spanish  monarchy  hermetically 
sealed  for  ages. 

The  history  of  Philip  the  Second  is  the  history  of  Europe  during  the  latter 
half  of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  covers  the  period  when  the  doctrines  of  the 
Reformation  were  agitating  the  minds  of  men  in  so  fearful  a  manner  as  to  shake 
the  very  foundations  of  the  Romish  hierarchy  in  the  fierce  contest  which  divided 
Christendom.  Philip,  both  from  his  personal  character  and  from  his  position 
as  sovereign  of  the  most  potent  monarchy  in  Europe,  was  placed  at  the  head 
of  the  party  which  strove  to  uphold  the  fortunes  of  the  ancient  Church ;  and 
thus  his  policy  led  him  perpetually  to  interfere  in  the  internal  affairs  of  the 
other  European  states, — making  it  necessary  to  look  for  the  materials  for  his 
history  quite  as  much  without  the  Peninsula  as  within  it  In  this  respect 
the  reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  presents  a  strong  .contrast  to  that  of 
Philip  the  Second ;  and  it  was  the  consideration  of  this,  when  I  had  com- 
pleted my  history  of  the  former,  and  proposed  at  some  future  day  to  enter 
upon  that  of  the  latter,  that  led  me  to  set  about  a  collection  of  authentic 
materials  from  the  public  archives  in  the  great  European  capitals.  It  was  a 
work  of  difficulty ;  and,  although  I  had  made  some  progress  in  it,  I  did  not 


1061759 


ri  PREFACE. 

feel  assured  of  success  until  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  obtain  the  co-operation 
of  my  friend  Don  Pascual  de  Gayangos,  Professor  of  Arabic  in  the  University 
of  Madrid.  This  eminent  scholar  was  admirably  qualified  for  the  task  which 
he  so  kindly  undertook ;  since,  with  a  remarkaole  facility — such  as  long 
practice  only  can  give — in  deciphering  the  mysterious  handwriting  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  he  combined  such  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  the  history 
of  his  country  as  enabled  him  to  detect,  amidst  the  ocean  of  manuscripts 
which  he  inspected,  such  portions  as  were  essential  to  my  purpose. 

With  unwearied  assiduity  he  devoted  himself  to  the  examination  of  many 
of  the  principal  collections,  both  in  England  and  on  the  Continent.  Among 
these  may  be  mentioned  the  British  Museum  and  the  State- Paper  Office,  in 
London ;  the  Library  of  the  Dukes  of  Burgundy,  in  Brussels  ;  that  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Leyden  ;  the  Royal  Library,  at  the  Hague  ;  the  Royal  Library  of 
Paris,  and  the  Archives  of  the  Kingdom,  in  the  Hotel  Soubise ;  the  Library 
of  the  Academy  of  History,  the  National  Library  at  Madrid,  and,  more  im- 
portant than  either,  the  ancient  Archives  of  Simancas,  within  whose  hallowed 
precincts  Senor  Gayangos  was  one  of  the  first  scholars  permitted  to  enter. 

Besides  these  public  repositories,  there  are  several  private  collections  to  the 
owners  of  which  I  am  largely  indebted  for  the  liberal  manner  in  which  they 
have  opened  them  for  inypenefit.  I  may  mention  in  particular  the  late  Lady 
Holland,  who  kindly  permitted  copies  to  be  made  by  Senor  Gayangos  from 
the  manuscripts  preserved  in  Holland  House  ;  Sir  Thomas  Phillips,  Bart.,  who 
freely  extended  the  same  courtesy  in  respect  to  the  present  work  which  he  had 
shown  to  me  on  a  former  occasion  ;  and  Patrick  Fraser  Tytler,  Esq.,  the  late 
excellent  historian  of  Scotland,  who  generously  placed  at  my  disposal  sundry 
documents  copied  by  him  in  the  public  offices  with  his  own  hand  for  the 
illustration  of  the  reign  of  Mary  Tudor. 

In  Spain  the  collection  made  by  Senor  Gayangos  was  enriched  by  materials 
drawn  from  the  family  archives  of  the  marquis  of  Santa  Cruz,  whose  illus- 
trious ancestor  first  had  charge  of  the  Spanish  armada ;  from  the  archives  of 
Medina  Sidonia,  containing  papers  of  the  duke  who  succeeded  to  the  command 
of  that  ill-starred  expedition ;  and  from  the  archives  of  the  house  of  Alva, — a 
name  associated  with  the  most  memorable  acts  of  the  government  of  Philip. 

The  manuscripts  thus  drawn  from  various  quarters  were  fortified  by  such 
printed  works  as,  having  made  their  appearance  in  the  time  of  Philip  the 
Second,  could  throw  any  light  on  his  government.  Where  such  works  were 
not  to  be  purchased,  Senor  Gayangos  caused  copies  to  be  made  of  them,  or  of 
those  portions  which  were  important  to  my  purpose.  The  result  of  his  kind, 
untiring  labours  has  been  to  put  me  in  possession  of  such  a  collection  of 
authentic  materials  for  the  illustration  of  the  reign  of  Philip  as  no  one  before 
had  probably  attempted  to  make.  Nor  until  now  had  the  time  come  for 
making  the  attempt  with  success. 

There  still  remained,  however,  some  places  to  be  examined  where  I  might 
expect  to  find  documents  that  would  be  of  use  to  me.  Indeed,  it  is  in  the 
nature  of  such  a  collection,  covering  so  wide  an  extent  of  ground,  that  it  can 
never  be  complete.  The  historian  may  be  satisfied  if  he  has  such  authentic 
materials  at  his  command  as,  while  they  solve  much  that  has  hitherto  been 
enigmatical  in  the  accounts  of  the  time,  will  enable  him  to  present  in  their 
true  light  the  character  of  Philip  and  the  policy  of  his  government.  I  must 
acknowledge  my  obligations  to  more  than  one  person  who  has  given  me  im- 
portant aid  in  prosecuting  my  further  researches. 

One  of  the  first  of  them  is  my  friend  Mr.  Edward  Everett,  who  hi  his  long 
and  brilliant  career  as  a  statesman  has  lost  nothing  of  that  love  of  letters 


PREFACE.  vii 

which  formed  his  first  claim  to  distinction.  The  year  before  his  appointment 
to  the  English  mission  he  passed  on  the  Continent,  where,  with  the  kindness 
that  belongs  to  his  nature,  he  spent  much  time  in  examining  for  me  the  great 
libraries,  first  in  Paris,  and  afterwards  more  effectually  in  Florence.  From 
the  Archivio  Mediceo,  in  which  he  was  permitted  by  the  grand  duke  to  con- 
duct his  researches,  he  obtained  copies  of  sundry  valuable  documents,  and 
among  them  the  letters  of  the  Tuscan  ministers,  which  have  helped  to  guide 
me  in  some  of  the  most  intricate  parts  of  my  narrative.  A  still  large/  amount 
of  materials  he  derived  from  the  private  library  of  Count  Guicciardini,  the 
descendant  of  the  illustrious  historian  of  that  nama  1  am  happy  to  express 
my  lively  sense  of  the  courtesy  shown  by  this  nobleman ;  also  my  gratitude  for 
kind  offices  rendered  me  by  Prince  Corsini ;  and  no  less  by  the  Marquis  Gino 
Capponi,  whose  name  will  be  always  held  in  honour  for  the  enlightened  patro- 
nage which  he  has  extended  to  learning  while  suffering,  himself,  under  the 
severest  privation  that  can  befall  the  scholar. 

There  was  still  an  important  deficiency  in  my  collection, — that  of  the 
Relazioni  Venete,  as  the  reports  are  called  which  were  made  by  ambassadors 
of  Venice  on  their  return  from  their  foreign  missions.  The  value  of  these 
reports,  for  the  information  they  give  of  the  countries  visited  by  the  envoys,  is 
well  known  to  historians.  The  deficiency  was  amply  supplied  by  the  un- 
wearied kindness  of  my  friend  Mr.  Fay,  who  now  so  ably  fills  the  post  of 
minister  from  the  United  States  to  Switzerland.  When  connected  with  the 
American  legation  at  Berlin,  he  in  the  most  obliging  manner  assisted  me  in 
making  arrangements  for  obtaining  the  documents  I  desired,  which,  with  other 
papers  of  importance,  were  copied  for  me  from  the  manuscripts  in  the  Royal 
Library  of  Berlin  and  the  Ducal  Library  of  Gotha.  I  have  also,  in  connection 
with  this,  to  express  my  obligations  to  the  distinguished  librarian  of  the 
former  institution,  Mr.  Pertz,  for  the  good  will  which  he  showed  in  promoting 
my  views. 

Through  Mr.  Fay  I  also  obtained  the  authority  of  Prince  Metternich  to 
inspect  the  Archives  of  the  Empire  in  Vienna,  which  I  inferred,  from  the 
intimate  relations  subsisting  between  the  courts  of  Madrid  and  Vienna  in  that 
day,  must  contain  much  valuable  matter  relevant  to  my  subject.  The  result 
did  not  correspond  to  my  expectations.  I  am  happy,  however,  to  have  the 
opportunity  of  publicly  offering  my  acknowledgments  to  that  eminent  scholar 
Dr.  Ferdinand  Wolf  for  the  obliging  manner  in  which  he  conducted  the  in- 
vesjigation  for  me,  as  well  in  the  archives  above  mentioned  as,  with  better 
results,  in  the  Imperial  Library,  with  which  he  is  officially  connected. 

In  concluding  the  list  of  those  to  whose  good  offices  I  have  been  indebted,  I 
must  not  omit  the  names  of  M.  de  Salvanoy,  minister  of  public  instruction  in 
France  at  the  time  I  was  engaged  in  making  my  collection  :  Mr.  Rush,  then 
the  minister  of  the  United  States  at  the  French  court ;  Mr.  Rives,  of  Virginia, 
his  successor  in  that  office ;  and  last,  not  least,  my  friend  Count  de  Circourt,  a 
scholar  whose  noble  contributions  to  the  periodical  literature  of  his  country,  on 
the  greatest  variety  of  topics,  have  given  him  a  prominent  place  among  the 
writers  of  our  time. 

I  am  happy,  also,  to  tender  my  acknowledgments  for  the  favours  I  have 
received  from  Mr.  Van  de  Weyer,  minister  from  Belgium  to  the  court  of  St. 
James ;  from  Mr.  B.  Homer  Dixon,  consul  for  the  Netherlands  at  Boston ; 
and  from  my  friend  and  kinsman  Mr.  Thomas  Hickling,  consul  for  the  United 
States  at  St.  Michael's,  who  kindly  furnished  me  with  sundry  manuscripts 
exhibiting  the  condition  of  the  Azores  at  the  period  when  those  islands  passed, 
with  Portugal,  under  the  sceptre  of  Philip  the  Second. 


viii  PREFACE. 

Having  thus  acquainted  the  reader  with  the  sources  whence  I  have  derived 
my  materials,  I  must  now  say  a  few  words  in  regard  to  the  conduct  of  ray 
narrative.  An  obvious  difficulty  in  the  path  of  the  historian  of  this  period 
arises  from  the  nature  of  the  subject,  embracing,  as  it  does,  such  a  variety  of 
independent,  not  to  say  incongruous,  topics,  that  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  pre- 
serve anything  like  unity  of  interest  in  the  story.  Thus  the  Revolution  of  the 
Netherlands,  although,  strictly  speaking,  only  an  episode  to  the  main  body  of 
the  narrative,  from  its  importance  well  deserves  to  be  treated  in  a  separate 
and  independent  narrative  by  itself.*  Running  along  through  the  whole 
extent  of  Philip's  reign,  it  is  continually  distracting  the  attention  of  the  his- 
torian, creating  an  embarrassment  something  like  that  which  arises  from  what 
is  termed  a  double  plot  in  the  drama.  The  best  way  of  obviating  this  is  to 
keep  in  view  the  dominant  principle  which  controlled  all  the  movements  of  the 
complicated  machinery,  so  to  speak,  and  impressed  on  them  a  unity  of  action. 
This  principle  is  to  be  found  in  the  policy  of  Philip,  the  great  aim  of  which 
was  to  uphold  the  supremacy  of  the  Church,  and,  as  a  consequence,  that  of  the 
crown.  "Peace  and  public  order,"  he  writes  on  one  occasion,  "are  to  be 
maintained  in  my  dominions  only  by  maintaining  the  authority  of  the  Holy 
See."  It  was  this  policy,  almost  as  sure  and  steady  in  its  operation  as  the 
laws  of  Nature  herself,  that  may  be  said  to  have  directed  the  march  of  events 
through  the  whole  of  his  long  reign  ;  and  it  is  only  by  keeping  this  constantly 
in  view  that  the  student  will  be  enabled  to  obtain  a  clue  to  guide  him  through 
the  intricate  passages  in  the  history  of  Philip,  and  the  best  means  of  solving 
what  would  otherwise  remain  enigmatical  in  nis  conduct. 

In  the  composition  of  the  work  I  have  for  the  most  part  conformed  to  the 
plan  which  I  nad  before  adopted.  Far  from  confining  myself  to  a  record  of 
political  events,  I  have  endeavoured  to  present  a  picture  of  the  intellectual 
culture  and  the  manners  of  the  people.  I  have  not  even  refused  such  aid  as 
could  be  obtained  from  the  display  of  pageants  and  court  ceremonies,  which, 
although  exhibiting  little  more  than  the  costume  of  the  time,  may  serve  to 
bring  the  outward  form  of  a  picturesque  age  more  vividly  before  the  eye  of 
the  reader.  In  the  arrangement  of  the  narrative  I  have  not  confined  myself 
altogether  to  the  chronological  order  of  events,  but  have  thrown  them  into 
masses,  according  to  the  subjects  to  which  they  relate,  so  as  to  produce  as  far 
as  possible  a  distinct  impression  on  the  reader.  And  in  this  way  I  have  post- 
poned more  than  one  matter  of  importance  to  a  later  portion  of  the  work, 
which  a  strict  regard  to  time  would  assign  more  properly  to  an  earlier  division 
of  the  subject.  Finally,  I  have  been  careful  to  fortify  the  text  with  citations 
from  the  original  authorities  on  which  it  depends,  especially  where  these  are 
rare  and  difficult  of  access. 

In  the  part  relatiiig  to  the  Netherlands  I  have  pursued  a  course  somewhat 
different  from  what  I  have  done  in  other  parts  of  the  work.  The  scholars  of 
that  country,  in  a  truly  patriotic  spirit,  have  devoted  themselves  of  late  years 
to  exploring  their  own  archives,  as  well  as  those  of  Simancas,  for  the  purpose 
of  illustrating  their  national  annals.  The  results  they  have  given  to  the 
world  in  a  series  of  publications,  which  are  still  in  progress.  Trie  historian 
has  reason  to  be  deeply  grateful  to  those  pioneers,  whose  labours  have  put  him 

*  It  Is  gratifying  to  learn  that  before  long  dence  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  scenes  of 
such  a  history  may  be  expected, — if  indeed  it  his  narrative.  No  one  acquainted  with  the 
should  not  appear  before  the  publication  of  fine  powers  of  mind  possessed  by  this  scholar, 
this  work, — from  the  pen  of  our  accomplished  and  the  earnestness  with  Tvhich  he  has  de- 
countryman  Mr.  J.  Lotbrop  Motley,  who  voted  himself  to  his  task,  can  doubt  that  he 
during  the  last  few  years,  for  the  better  prose-  will  do  full  justice  to  his  important  but  diffi- 
cution  of  his  labours,  has  established  his  resi-  cult  subject. 


PREFACE.  ix 

in  possession  of  materials  which  afford  the  most  substantial  basis  for  his 
narrative.  For  what  basis  can  compare  with  that  afforded  by  the  written  cor- 
respondence of  the  parties  themselves  ?  It  is  on  this  sure  ground  that  I  have 
mainly  relied  in  this  part  of  my  story ;  and  I  have  adopted  the  practice  of  in- 
corporating extracts  from  the  letters  in  the  body  of  the  text,  which,  if  it  may 
sometimes  give  an  air  of  prolixity  to  the  narrative,  will  have  the  advantage  of 
bringing  the  reader  into  a  sort  of  personal  acquaintance  with  the  actors,  as  he 
listens  to  the  words  spoken  by  themselves. 

In  the  earlier  part  of  this  Preface  I  have  made  the  acknowledgments  due 
for  assistance  I  have  received  in  the  collection  of  my  materials  ;  and  I  must 
not  now  conclude  without  recordingmy  obligations,  of  another  kind,  to  two  of 
my  personal  friends, — Mr.  Charles  Folsom,  the  learned  librarian  of  the  Boston 
Athenaeum,  who  has  repeated  the  good  offices  he  had  before  rendered  me  in 
revising  my  manuscript  for  the  press ;  and  Mr.  John  Foster  Kirk,  whose 
familiarity  with  the  history  and  languages  of  Modern  Europe  has  greatly  aided 
me  in  the  prosecution  of  my  researches,  while  his  sagacious  criticism  has  done 
me  no  less  service  in  the  preparation  of  this  volume. 

Notwithstanding  the  advantages  I  have  enjoyed  for  the  composition  of  this 
work,  and  especially  those  derived  from  the  possession  of  new  and  original 
materials,  I  am  fully  sensible  that  I  am  far  from  having  done  justice  to  a 
subject  so  vast  in  its  extent  and  so  complicated  in  its  relations.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  urge  in  my  defence  any  physical  embarrassments  under  which  I 
labour  ;  since  that  will  nardly  be  an  excuse  for  not  doing  well  what  it  was  not 
necessary  to  do  at  all.  But  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  what  I  have  done 
has  been  the  result  of  careful  preparation  ;  that  I  have  endeavoured  to  write 
in  a  spirit  of  candour  and  good  faith ;  and  that,  whatever  may  be  the  de- 
ficiencies of  my  work,  it  can  hardly  fail — considering  the  advantages  I  have 
enjoyed  over  my  predecessors — to  present  the  reader  with  such  new  and 
authentic  statements  of  facts  as  may  afford  him  a  better  point  of  view  than 
that  which  he  has  hitherto  possessed  for  surveying  the  history  of  Philip  the 
Second. 

BOSTOX,  July.  1855. 


xxiv  CONTENTS. 

PACE  PACK 

Philip's  Fondness  for  Art          ..         ..672        Its  present  Condition       675 

Completion  of  the  Escorial  ..        ..          672        Anne  of  Austria         675 

The  Architects 673        Her  Reception  in  Spain 676 

Character  of  the  Structure     ..        ..          673  Her  Marriage  with  Philip     ..        ..          677 

It*  Whimsical  Design 674  Her  Resilience  at  the  Escurtal    ..         ..677 

Its  Magnitude 674  Her  Character  and  Habits     ..        ..          677 

Interior  Decorations        675        Her  Death 678 

Ravages  it  has  undergone      ..        ..          675 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  L 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

ABDICATION  OF  CHARLES  THK  FIFTH    . .  1 ' 

Rise  of  the  Spanish  Empire  . .        . .  1 

Internal  Tranquillity  of  Spain  . .         . .  2 

Charles  V.  not  a  Spaniard     . .        . .  2 

State  of  Europe  at  his  Accession          . .  2 

His  Warlike  Career 3 

Reverses  of  bis  Later  Tears       . .        . .  3 

His  111  Health  and  Melancholy       . .  3 

He  determines  to  abdicate          . .         . .  4 

Convenes  the  Estates  of  the  Netherlands  4 

His  Appearance  in  the  Assembly        . .  5 

Speech  to  the  Deputies          . .         . .  6 

Address  to  Philip 1 

Emotions  of  the  Audience     . .         . .  7 

Speeches  of  Philip  and  Gran  velle        ..  7 

Charles  resigns  the  Crown  of  Spain  8 

Retains  the  Title  of  Emperor    ..        ..  8 

Leaves  the  Netherlands        . .        . .  8 

Arrives  at  Laredo . .  0 

His  Journey  to  Valladoltd    ..        ..  9 

He  takes  Leave  of  his  Family    ..        ..  10 

His  Stay  at  JarandtlU           . .        . .  10 

Description  of  Yuste        10 


CHAPTER  IL 

EARLY  DATS  OF  PHILIP   . .        . .        . .  11 

Birth  of  Philip  II 11 

Recognition  as  Heir  to  tbe  Crown        . .  12 

His  Tutors        12 

Death  of  bis  Mother        13 

His  early  Familiarity  with  Affairs  . .  14 

First  Lesion  in  War         14 

He  is  made  Regent IS 

His  Father's  Counsel  to  him      . .        . .  IB 

Bride  Delected  for  Philip       ..        ..  16 

The  Infanta  sets  out  for  Castile..        ..  16 

Arrives  at  Salamanca IT 

Royal  Marriage 17 

Dcatlkof  the  Princess 17 

Ptiiliptiuminoned  to  Flanders    ..         ..  18 

RemodeU  his  Household       . .         . .  18 

Arrives  at  Genoa 19 

Receives  Embassies 19 

Entertainment  at  Milan 20 

Honours  paid  him  on  the  Route     . .  21 


MM 

Reception  at  Brussels      ..        ..        ..  21 

Charles  bis  Instructor  in  Politics    ..  22 

Tour  through  the  Provinces       . .        . .  22 

Loyal  Demonstrations  . .        . .  23 

Tourney  in  Brussels        . .        . .        . .  23 

Philip's  Skill  with  the  Lance          . .  24 

His  Dislike  to  Active  Exercises. .  25 

Unpopularity  in  Flanders     . .         . .  25- — • 

Scheme  for  securing  to  him  tbe  Imperial 

Crown :f> 

Ferdinand  refuses  to  waive  his  Claims  26 

Philip  disliked  by  tbe  Germans..        ..  26  — 

The  Project  unpopular  in  Spain     ..  27 

Private  Compact . .  27 

Philip  leaves  tbe  Netherlands        . .  28— 

Resumes  tbe  Government  of  Spain      . .  28 

State  of  Spain 28 

Strength  of  the  National  Spirit . .        . .  29 
Philip  the  Type  of  tbe  Spanish  Cha- 
racter   29 


CHAPTER  III. 

*  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE         30 

Religious  Revolution  in  England    . .  30 

Indifference  of  the  People          . .        . .  30 

Micbeli's  Description  of  England    . .  31 

His  Portrait  of  Mary        32 

Her  Bigotry 33 

Proofs  of  her  Sincerity 33 

Her  Treatment  of  Elizabeth  . .        . .  33 

Persecution  of  the  Protestants  . .        . .  34 

Charles  V.'s  Relations  with  Mary  ..  34 

Scheme  for  uniting  her  to  Philip          . .  35  . 

Crafty  Mode  of  Proceeding    . .        . .  36 

Coquetry  of  Mary 36 

Offer  of  Philip's  Hand  ..        ..  37 

Efforts  to  prevent  tbe  Match      ..        ..  38 

Mary's  Vow 38 

Remonstrance  of  tbe  Commons . .        . .  38 

Egmont's  Embassy     ..         ..         ..  39 

Mary's  Prudery 39 

The  Marriage-Treaty 40 

Popular  Discontent          40 

Insurrection 40 

Tbe  Queen's  Intrepidity 41 

The  Rebels  defeated    . '.  . .  41 


XII 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ENGLISH  ALLIANCE         

Ratification  of  the  Treaty 
Mary's  Message  to  Philip          . .        . 
His  Disinclination  to  the  Match      . . 
He  sends  an  Embassy  to  Mary  . .        4 
Joanna  made  Regent  of  Spain         . . 

Her  Character         

Philip  sails  for  England        . .         . . 

Lands  at  Southampton , 

His  Reception  . .        

His  Affability         

Progress  to  Winchester         . .         . . 
Interviews  with  Mary      . .         . .         . 
The  Marriage-Ceremony  performed 

Banquet  and  Ball , 

Public  Entry  into  London     ..         .. 
Residence  at  Hampton  Court     . . 

Philip's  Discretion 

Punctiliousness    in   Religious   Observ 

ances        ......         , 

Sincerity  of  his  Religious  Belief     . . 

Arrival  of  the  Legate , 

Character  of  Pole        . .        . .        . . 

.Meeting  of  Parliament , 

"England  reconciled  to  the  Church  . . 

Persecution 

Denounced  by  the  King's  Confessor 
Philip's  Influence  with  Mary 
Her  Pregnancy  announced    . .        . . 
Mortifying  Result ..        ..        .. 

Philip's  Discontent 

Unpopularity  of  the  Spaniards  . .         . 
•^Philip  leaves  England           . .        . . 
Arrives  at  Brussels          


CHAPTER  V. 

WAR  WITH  THE  POPB      ..•       . 
Extent  of  Philip's  Possessions 
His  Powerful  Position     . . 
Absolute  Authority    . .         . . 

Relations  with  the  Pope  . . 
Early  History  of  Paul  IV.    . . 
His  Enmity  to  the  Emperor 
Denunciations  of  the  Spaniards 
Character  of  the  Pope      . .        . 
His  Nephews    . .         . .         . . 

Relations  with  France     . . 
Character  of  Henry  II. 
The  Constable  Montmorency     . 
Francis,  Duke  of  Guise 
Caraffa  succeeds  in  his  Mission  . 
.Terms  of  the  Treaty  .. 
Spaniards  maltreated  by  Paul    . 
Alva  Viceroy  of  Naples 

His  Early  Career 

His  Military  Talents  „ 
Council  of  Theologians     . . 
Sanctions  .Retaliatory  Measures 
Alva  issues  a  Manifesto   . . 
Musters  an  Army       ..        .. 
Enters  the  Papal  Territory 
Rapid  Successes          . .         .. 


PAGE 
42 
42 
42 
43 
43 
43 
44 
45 
45 
46 
46 
46 
47 

•-48 
48 
49 
50 
61 

51 
51 
52 
52 
52 
53 
63 
63 
54 
54 
55 
66 
55 
66 
.  56 


66 

57 

67 

67  / 

68 

68 

69 

69 

60 

60 

61 

61 

62 

62 

62 

63 

63 

63 

64 

65 

65 

65 

66 

66 


Paul's  Fiery  Temper 
The  Papal  Forces       .. 
Ostia  besieged        . . 
Unsuccessful  Assault . . 
The  Place  surrenders 
Negotiations  and  Truce 


CHAPTER  VX 

WAR  WITH  THE  POPE      .  .        .  . 

The  French  Army      ...... 

The  Italian  Powers 

Duke  of  Ferrara  breaks  with  Guise.  . 

Paul  renews  the  War 

Campli  taken  by  the  French.  .        .  . 

Italy  in  the  Sixteenth  Century  .. 
Guise  lays  Siege  to  Ci  vitella 
Discontents  in  the  French  Army 
Alva's  Preparations    ...... 

He  takes  the  Field  ...... 

Raises  the  Siege  of  Civitella 
Retreat  of  the  French      .  .        .  . 

Alva's  Slow  Pursuit   ...... 

Successes  of  Colonna        .  .        .  . 

Capture  and  Sack  of  Segni    .  .        .  . 

Paul  refuses  to  make  Concessions 
Alva  plans  an  Attack  on  Rome      .  . 
Abandons  the  Design 
Various  Opinions  as  to  the  Affair   .  . 
Alarm  of  the  Romans      .  .         .  . 

Departure  of  Guise     ...... 

Negotiations  opened 

Concessions  made  by  Alva   .  .        .  . 

He  enters  Rome 

Receives  Absolution  from  the  Pope 

Results  of  the  War 

Paul  the  Chief  Sufferer 

His  Treatment  of  his  Kinsmen  .  . 

Rigid  Church-Discipline 

Riots  at  his  Death  ...... 

His  Patriotism  ........ 


CHAPTER  VU. 


WAR  WITH  FRANCE 
Preparations  in  the  Netherlands     . 
/Philip  visits  England 
Pretexts  for  War  with  France 
War  proclaimed    ...... 

Mary's  Forlorn  Condition     .  . 
Excuses  for  her  Errors     .  .         .  . 

Forces  raised  by  Philip         .  .         . 

Duke  of  Savoy  appointed  General 

His  Character 

Plan  of  the  Campaign 

St.  Quentin  invested 

Coligni  undertakes  the  Defence.  . 

Condition  of  the  Place 

Attempt  to  reinforce  it    ..        .. 

Montmorency  brings  up  his  Army  . 
Takes  up  a  Position 
Sends  Troops  across  the  Somme 
Cavalry  detached  against  him    .  . 


66       HisSelf-Coutideu.ee 


CONTENTS. 


xm 


PAGE 

He  endeavours  to  retire 90 

Is  overtaken  by  Egmont      . .        . .  90 

Battle  of  St.  Quentin        90 

French  Cavalry  routed          . .        . .  91 

The  Infantry  makes  a  Stand      . .        . .  91 

Overpowered  by  Numbers'  ..        ..  91 

Dreadful  Carnage 91 

Retreat  to  La  Fere  ' 92 

The  Victory  complete 92 

Philip  Visits  the  Camp          ..        ..  92 

Disposes  of  the  Prisoners 93 

Proposal  to  march  'oh  Parts  . .        . .  94 

Rejected  By  Pbfllp      "   ..         ..         ..  94 

Siege  of  St.  Quentin  resumed          ..  94 

Efforts  of  the  Besieged 94 

Preparations  for  the  Assault. .        . .  95 

Struggle  it  the  'Breaches 95 

Capttfrfe  of  the  Town 96 

Maltreatment  of  the  Inhabitants          ..  96 

Philip  protects  them 97 

Further  SQccesses 97 

Operations  suspended 98 

Results  6f  the  Campaign 98 


CHAPTER  VHL 

•  WAR  WITH  FRAKCE        99 

National  Spirit  aroused  in  France  . .  99 

New  Army  raised 99 

Desire  *o  recover  Calais        ..        ..  99 

Its  Defenceless  State        100 

Capture  of  the  Forts 100 

Surrender •  of  the -Town 100 

,    Sensation  in- England  and  France   ..  100 

Inactivity  of  Guise  101 

Foray  into  Flanders 101 

Retreat  of  the  French  intercepted        ..  102 

Dispositions  of  Thermes       ..        ..  103 

Battle  of-Gravelines         103 

Overthrow  of  the  French      . .         . .  104 

Spoils  of  Victory 104 

The  Monarch*  take  the  Field          ..  104 

Both  weary  of  the  War 105 

Their  Financial  Embarrassments   ..  105 

Religious  Difficulties        ..        ..'"""..  106 

Negotiations  opened 106 

Congress  meets  at  Cercamps      . .        . .  107 

Death  of  Mary  Tudor 107 

Feria's  Mission  to  England        ..         ..  107 

Mary's  Character        108 

•jMtcheli's  Portrait  of  Elizabeth   ..        ..  109  / 

I'hilip  offers  her  his  Hand     ..         ..  109^ 

Remonstrates  against  Religious  Changes  110 

f  His  Suit  unsuccessful 110  / 

\Negotlatl6ngatCateau-CambresiB  ..  Ill 

•J I lifflcullies  fri  Regard  to  Calais  ..        ..  Ill 

/Question  brought  to  an  Issue  ..  112 

\Treaty  signed        112 


PAGE 

Terms  advantageous  to  Philip  ..         ..  112 

His  Reputation  increased      . .        . .  113 

Marriage-Contract  with  Isabella          ..  114 

Elizabeth  of  England  piqued           ..  114 

Marriage  of  Philip  by  Proxy     ..        ..  115 

Death  of  Henry  II 116 


/ 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LATTER  DATS  OP  CHARLES  THK  FrFTH..  116 

The  Jeronymite  Convent  at  Yuste . .  117 

The  Buildings  enlarged 117 

Furniture  of  Charles's  Apartments. .  117 

WorksofArt         118 

The  Emperor's  Garden          . .        . .  118 

Present  Appearance  of  Yuste    ..        ..  119 

The  Emperor's  Arrival         ..        ..  120 

His  Household       120 

Mode  of  employing  his  Time          ..  121 

His  Devotion          121 

Fondness  for  Music 122 

Turn  for  Mechanical  Arts          . .         . .  122 

His  Timepieces           123 

Reception  of  Visitors       123 

Erroneous  Opinions  respecting  his  Seclu- 
sion       124 

Advice  sought  by  the  Government       . .  124 

His  Anxiety  during  the  War          ..  125 

Projects  respecting  Portugal      . .        . .  125 

He  assists  in  raising  Supplies         . .  126 

Denounces  Delinquents  at  Seville        . .  126 

State  of  his  Health 126 

Death  of  Queen  Eleanor 127 

Charles's  Bigotry  and  Intolerance  . .  127 

Declining  Health 127 

Rehearsal  of  his  Obsequies   ..        ..  128 

Not  mentioned  in  Letters          ..        ..  128 

Authority  for  the  Story        ..        ..  129 

Misstatement  of  Dates 129 

Morbid  Tastes  of  Charles      ..        ..  130 

His  Last  Illness 130 

He  arranges  his  Affairs        . .        . .  131 

His  Injunctions  to  Philip..         ..         ..  131 

Religious  Preparations         ..        ..  131 

His  Death    . .         . .     • 133 

Disposal  of  his  Remains        ..         ..  132 

Funeral  Honour*  at  Brussels      ..         ..  133 

Peculiarities  of  Charles          . .       ...  134 

His  Tardy  Development 134 

His  Self-Reliance        135 

Vastnrss  of  bis  Schemes 135 

His  Gluttony 136 

His  Memoirs          137 

Translation  of  a  French  Form        ..  138 

Desire  of  Posthumous  Fame      . .        . .  138 

His  Bigotry 139 

Manuscript  Work  of  Gonzalez   ..         ..  140 

Stirling,  Amedee  Pichot,  and  Mignct  140 


riv 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  II. 


CHAPTER  L 

VIEW  OP  THE  NETHERLANDS    .. 
Provinces  of  the  Netherlands 
Condition  in  the  Middle  Ages    . . 
Not  fused  into  a  Nation 
A  Confederacy  of  States  . .        . . 
Power  of  the  Sovereign         . . 
Ascendency  of  Charles  V. 
Manufactures  of  the  Netherlands 
Extent  of  their  Commerce 
Antwerp  the  Commercial  Capital 
Prosperity  of  all  Classes 
Diffusion  of  Education 
Introduction  of  Protestantism    . . 
Laws  for  its  Suppression 
.Establishment  of  an  Inquisition 
•''Different  from  the  Spanish   . . 
Number  of  its  Victims 
Injury  to  Trade 
Revenues  of  the  Netherlands    . . 


PAGE 
.  142 

142 
.  143 

143 
.  143 

144 
,  144 

145 
,  145 

146 
.  146 

147 
.  147 

148 
.  148 

149 
.  149 

150 
.  150 


CHAPTER  II. 

SYSTEM  ESTABLISHED  BY  PHILIP         ..  151 

Philip  visits  the  Provinces   ..        ..  151 

His  Chilling  Demeanour 152 

He  renews  the  Edicts 152 

The  Ecclesiastical  Establishment         ..  152 

Scheme  of  New  Bishoprics   . .        . .  153 

Philip's  Financial  Policy 153 

Candidates  for  the  Regency  . .        . .  1 54 

Margaret  of  Parma  154 

Her  Education  and  Early  Career     . .  154 

Her  Character        155 

She  arrives  at  Brussels         ..        . .  156 

The  States-General  at  Ghent     . .         . .  156 

Remonstrate  against  Spanish  Garrisons  156 

Philip's  Displeasure         157 

He  takes  Leave  of  the  States  . .  158 

Instructions  to  the  Regent         . .        . .  158 

Her  chief  Advisers 158 

Granvelle 159 

Early  distinguished 160 

Succeeds  bis  Father          160 

Obtains  the  Confidence  of  Philip     . .  161 

Philip  completes  his  Arrangements     . .  162 

Leaves  the  Netherlands        . .        . .  163 


CHAPTER  HI. 

PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN          ..        ..  164 

The  Royal  Fleet  wrecked     ..        ..  164 

Philip's  Narrow  Escape 164 

He  resumes  the  Government          . .  164 

Spain  affected  by  the  Reformation       . .  164 

Circulation  of  Protestant  Books      . .  165 

Powers  of  the  Inquisition  enlarged      . .  166 

The  Reformers  detected        . .         . .  167 

Great  Number  arrested 167 

Disclosures  extorted 167 


PAGE 

Autos  deFe ..167 

Description  of  one  at  Valladolid      . .  168 

The  Procession      ..        ..        ...      ..  168 

Assembly  in  the  Square        . .        . .  169 

The  Sermon  and  the  Oath          ..        ..  169 

The  "Reconciled" 169 

The  Martyrs           170 

Carlos  deSeso 170 

Domingo  de  Roxas           . .        . .        . .  171 

Place  of  Execution 171 

Bartolotne  Carranza         172 

Suspicions  of  his  Orthodoxy  . .        . .  173 

His  Arrest  .. 173 

Council  of  Trent  remonstrates        . .  174 

Cause  carried  to  Rome 174 

Decision  of  Gregory  XIII 176 

Carranza's  Death 175 

u'Heresy  extinguished  in  Spain         ..  176 
Effects  of  thejersecution           ..        ..177 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PHILIP'S  THIRD  MARRIAGE       ..        ..  177 

Isabella  arrives  in  Spain       . .        . .  177 

Preparations  to  welcome  her     . .        . .  178 

Meeting  with  Philip 178 

HerBeauty 179 

Don  Carlos . .  179 

Festivities  at  Guadalajara          . .        . .  179 

Reception  at  Toledo 180 

The  Spanish  Character 181 

Illness  of  Isabella       181 

Her  Popularity 181 

Taste  and  Profusion  in  Dress          . .  182 

Custom  of  Dining  in  Public       . .        . .  183 

The  Capital  of  Spain 183 

Madrid  exalted  by  the  Spaniards         ..  184 

Different  View  of  Foreigners          ..  184 

CHAPTER  V. 

DISCONTENT  IN  THE  NETHERLANDS    ..  186 

,  The  Reformation        185 

Philip  its  Great  Opponent         ..        ..186 

Orthodoxy  of  the  Spaniards  . .        . .  186 

Different  Spirit  in  the  Netherlands      . .  186 

Philip's  Course  erroneous     ..        ..  Its 

Elements  of  Discontent 1st 

Antipathy  to  the  Spaniards  . .        . .  189 

Need  of  a  Considerate  Policy     . .        . .  189 

The  Prince  of  Orange 189 

Educated  at  Court 190 

Esteemed  by  Charles  V 190 

Opposed  to  the  Designs  of  Philip          . .  191 

Mutual  Aversion        191 

William's  Second  Marriage        ..         ..  192 

His  Convivial  Habits 192 

Impenetrable  Reserve 193 

Tact  and  Eloquence 193 

Indifference  to  Religion 193 

Tolerant  Spirit 193 


CONTENTS. 


xv 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OPPOSITION  TO  THE  GOVERNMEXT 
Detention  of  the  Spanish  Troops     . 
Their  Lax  Discipline       . .        . . 
The  Regent  dismisses  them  . . 
Dilatoriness  of  Philip 
New  Ecclesiastical  System   ..        . 
Obstacles  to  its  Introduction      . . 
Odium  cast  on  Gran velle       . .        . 
His  Position  and  Authority       . . 
Mode  of  conducting  Affairs  . . 
Sumptuous  Style  of  Living 
Complaints  of  Orange  and  Egmont . 
Religious  Troubles  in  France    . . 
Meeting  of  the  Golden  Fleece          . 
Montigny  sent  to  Spain   . .         . . 
Open  Hostility  to  Gran  velle  . . 
Montigny's  Report  ..         .. 

Suggestions  of  Philip 

Calvinist  Propagandism  . .         . . 
Tumult  at  Valenciennes 
Difficulty  of  executing  the  Edicts 
Granvelle's  Unpopularity      . . 


CHAPTER  VH. 

GRANVF.LLK  COMPELLED  TO  WITHDRAW 
Continued  Attacks  on  Granvelle    . . 
League  formed  against  him       . . 
Petition  for  bis  Removal      . .        . . 
Philip  requires  Specific  Charges. . 
Second  Letter  of  the  Lords    . .        . . 
They  withdraw  from  the  Council 
Granvelle  abandoned  by  the  Regent 

His  Courage  

Feeling  at  Madrid      

Alva's  Advice        

Philip  hesitates  

Margaret  presses  for  a  Decision  . . 
He  desires  Granvelle  to  withdraw  . . 
His  Haughty  Letter  to  the  Lords 
Gran  velle  announces  his  Departure 
Joy  of  the  Country          . .        . . 

The  Liveries 

Granvelle  leaves  Brussels          .. 
The  Lords  re-enter  the  Council       . . 
Granvelle  in  Retirement ..        .. 
The  Granvelle  Puptra  .. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

/CHANGES  DEMANDED  BT  THE  LORDS 
'  Philip's  Policy 

Causes  of  his  Unpopularity 

His  Inflexibility          

Changes  in  the  Netherlands       . . 

Philip  a  Foreigner 

Zeal  of  the  Nobles 

'lh.  ir  Influence  with  Margaret 

Opposition  of  Viglius 

Mutual  Accusations 

Aims  of  the  Lords 

The  Edict*  unexecuted 

Financial  Difficulties 


PAGE 

PAGE 

The  Council  of  Trent  225 

. 

194 

Opposition  to  its  Decrees  .  .        .  .        .  . 

225 

194 

Egmont's  Mission       

226 

194 

His  Instructions    ..         ..         ..         .. 

246 

195 

Discussion  in  the  Council     ..        .. 

226 

. 

195 

Pledge  of  Egmont's  Friends       .  .        .  . 

227 

195 

Banquet  at  Cambray  

228 

, 

196 

Egmont's  Reception  at  Madrid  .  .        .  . 

228 

197 

Question  propounded  by  Philip      .  . 

228 

. 

198 

Delusion  of  Egmont         

229 

198 

199 

199 

CHAPTER  IX. 

, 

200 

/ 

201 

--•PHILIP'S  INFLEXIBILITY  .  .        .  .        .  . 

230 

. 

201 

Result  of  Egmont's  Mission  .  .        .  . 

230 

202 

General  Dissatisfaction    

230 

. 

202 

Margaret  remonstrates  with  the  King 

231 

203 

His  Equivocal  Conduct    

231 

2(13 

Granvelle's  Correspondence  .  .        .  . 

232 

204 

Granvelle  sent  to  Rome  

232 

' 

204 

The  Royal  Determination  announced 

233 

205 

The  Despatch  received  at  Brussels 

234 

Its  Publication  

234 

Despair  of  the  People      

234 

Seditious  Discussions  

235 

The  Lower  Nobility 

235 

m 

206 

The  Union  and  the  Compromise     .  . 

236 

206 
206 
207 

The  Leaders  of  the  Party 
Its  Rapid  Increase      
Refusals  to  execute  the  Edicts  .  .        .  . 

237 
237 
238 

208 

Conference  of  Bayonne          .  .        .  . 

239 

'* 

Its  Real  Object      

239 

^08 

Panic  in  the  Netherlands      .  .        .  . 

240 

>» 

209 
210 

Painful  Situation  of  the  Regent.  . 

240 

>» 

211 
211 

Her  Preparations  for  Defence          .  . 
Temperate  Conduct  of  Orange   ..        .. 

241 
242 

Consultation  of  the  Nobles  ..        .. 

243 

'*    ' 

212 

Impulsive  Character  of  Egmont          .  . 

243 

. 

212 

213 
213 

CHAPTER  X. 

214 
214 

THE  CONFEDERATES        

244 

** 

214 

Different  Classes  of  Malecontents    .  . 

244 

.« 

215 
2)5 

244 
245 

Discussion  as  to  receiving  it  .  .        .  . 

216 

Speech  of  Orange  .  . 

245 

•t 

o  |7 

Confederates  enter  Brussels  .  .        .  . 

245 

Alt 

Present  the  Petition        

246 

Its  Purport       

246 

Answer  of  Margaret         .  .         .  .         .  . 

247 

Banquet  at  Culemborg  House 

248 

The  Gueux  

249 

218 

Symbols  and  Devices  

249 

218 

The  People  emboldened  

250 

,, 

219 

319 

,. 

219 

CHAPTER  XL 

219 

-s 

220 

FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP  

250 

220 

Brederode  at  Antwerp 

250 

.. 

221 

Mission  of  Bergen  and  Montigny          .. 

251 

221 

The  "  Moderation  "     .  .        .  .        .  . 

251 

., 

222 

Singular  Fraud      

252 

223 

Sects  of  the  Reformers 

252 

.. 

224 

Field-Preaching    

253 

XVI 


CONTENTS. 


Attended  by  Great  Multitudes 

A  larm  at  Antwerp          

Orange  sent  there       . .        . .        . . 

He  restores  Quiet  . .        

Activity  of  the  Regent 

Her  Anxiety          , 

Dilatory  Course  of  Philip 

His  Dissimulation ..        

Meeting  at  St.  Trpnd 

Moderate  Party  disgusted          . .        . . 

Deputation  to  Brussels 

Boldness  of  the  Confederates      . .        . . 

Military  Preparations 
Royal  Council  at  Madrid. .         •  • 
It  advises  Concessions  . . 

Philip  consents      . .        . .        . . 

His  Insincerity  . .        . .        . . 

Character  of  Pius  V 

He  urges  an  Extermination  of  Heretics 

Philip's  Perfidy 

His  Concessions  distrusted    . .        . . 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  ICONOCLASTS  '. 

Progress  of  the  Reformers 
Violence  of  the  Preachers          . . 
Outbreak  of  the  Iconoclasts  . .        . . 
Scandalous  Proceedings  at  Antwerp    , 

The  Cathedral  sacked 

Timidity  of  the  Citizens 
Outrages  throughout  the  Land 
Extent  of  the  Devastation          . . 
Consternation  at  Brussels     . .         . . 
The  Capital  in  Peril 
Demand  for  Freedom  of  Worship    . . 
Margaret  refuses  to  grant  it      . . 
She  prepares  to  quit  Brussels 
Is  compelled  to  remain 
Terms  made  with  the  Confederates 
The  Disorders  suppressed       •  . . 
Compact  with  the  Reformers  . . 

The  Confederates  lose  their  Influence 
Margaret  changes  her  Course 
Seeks  the  Advice  of  Viglius 
Denounces  her  late  Advisers  . . 

Indifference  of  Orange  and  Hoorne 
Different  Feelings  of  Egmont 
Philip  informed  of  the  Disturbances 
View  taken  iii  the  Royal  Council   . . 
Secret  Intelligence  of  Orange    . . 
Intercepted  Letter  of  Alava  . .        . . 
Conference  at  Dendermonde       . . 
Kgmon't  prevents  a  Decision . .        . . 
Charges  the  Regent  with  Perfidy 
Rumours  of  "Philip's  Designs          .. 
Preparations  for  Resistance       . . 


PAGE 
254 
254 
255 
255 
256 
256 
256 
257 
257 
257 
257 
258 
258 
259 
259 
260 
261 
261 
262 
262 
263 


2«4 
264 
264 
265 
265 
266 
267 
267 
268 
269 
269 
269 
269 
270 
270 
271 
271 
271 
273 
273 
273 
274 
274 
274 
275 
275 
276 
277 
277 
277 
278 
278 
278 


PACK 

Appeal  to  the  German  Protestants. .         279 
Orange  a  Lutheran  at  Heart      . .        . .    279 


CHAPTER  XIH. 

THE  REGENT'S  AUTHORITY  RE-ESTAB- 
LISHED . .        280 

The  Party  of  Reform  divided          . .  280 

Margaret  profits  by  their  Dissensions  . .  280 

Publishes  a  New  Edict         . .        . .  281 

Levies  Troops        281 

Resistance  of  Valenciennes  ..        ..  281 

New  Petition  of  the  Confederates         . .  282 

Margaret's  Haughty  Reply  . .        . .  282 

The  Confederates  take  up  Arms          . .  283 

Troops  sent  against  them     . .        . .  283 

The  Insurgents  defeated 284 

Tumult  in  Antwerp    ..         ..         ..  284 

Appeased  by  Orange        285 

Siege  of  Valenciennes 286 

It  refuses  to  capitulate 287 

Its  Bombardment       287 

Preparations  for  Assault 288 

Unconditional  Surrender      ..        ..  288 

The  Insurrection  quelled  . .        . .  289 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TRANQUILLITY  RESTORED          ..        ..  289 

Oath  of  Implicit  Obedience  . .        . .  289 

Orange  requested  to  subscribe  . .         . .  290 

He  refuses        290 

His  Hazardous  Position    . .        . .        . .  290 

Attempt  to  persuade  him     ..        ..  291 

Interview  -with  Egmont 291 

Difference  of  their  Characters          . .  292 

Their  Affection  for  each  other   ..        ..  292 

William  quits  the  Netherlands       . .  293 

Resides  at  Dillemburg 293 

Joined  -by  many  of  the  Nobles        . .  293 

Hoorne  takes  the  Oath 293 

Egmont's  Loyalty       . .         . .         . .  294 

Submission  of  Antwerp 294 

Margan-t  visits  it        294 

Cruel  Edict  published 295 

Revoked  by  the  King 295 

Embassy  from  the  German  Princes      . .  296 

Death  of  Brederode     . .        . .        . .  296 

His  Adherents  scattered 296 

Resistance  subdued  in  Holland       . .  297 

Severity  of  the  Government       . .        . .  297 

Alarm  caused  by  Alva's  Appointment  298 

Margaret  disgusted  . .    .     . .         . .  298 

Apparent  Order  in  the  Country       . .  299 

Dangerous,  Elements  at  Work   . .        . .  299 


CONTENTS. 


xvii 


CHAPTER  I. 

ALVA   SHUT  TO  THE   NETHERLANDS 

The  King's  Intended  Visit 
His  Sincerity  distrusted 
Discussion  in  the  Royal  Council     . . 
Two  Courses  proposed     . .        . . 
The  King  resolves  to  send  Alva 
Proclaims  his  Purpose  to  follow 
Alva  receives  his  Instructions 

Sails  for  Italy        

Composition  of  his  Army 

Order  of  March       . .         . .     .... 

Passage  of  the  Alps 

Perilous  Route       

Admirable  Discipline 

Arrival  at  Thionville 

Entry  into  Brussels 

Interview  with  the  Regent 

A 1  va's  Commission 

Extent  of  hie  Powers       ..        .. 
Mortification  of  Margaret 
Her  Remonstrances  fruitless 

A 1  va's  Reputation 

A  pprehensions  of  the  People     . . 

Gloom  of  Brussels       

Snare  prepared  for  the  Nobles  . . 
Egmont  and  Hoorne  arrested 
Sent  to  the  Castle  of  Ghent 
Sensation  in  the  Country 
Margaret  determines  to  retire    . . 
Satisfaction  at  Madrid 
Remark  of  Granvelle       . . 


CHAPTER  IL 

CnrEL  Power  OF  ALVA 
Order  hi  the  Netherlands      . . 
Emigration  prohibited     ..        .. 
The  Council  of  Blood 

Its  Members  

Method  of  Proceeding. . 

Enormous  Powers 

Illegal  Character 
Alva  In  Need  of  Money  ..         .. 
Financial  Kxpedieuts 
Summons  sent  to  Orange..        .. 
His  Son  removed  to  Spain    . . 
Civil  War  in  France 
Catherine  de  Medici* 
A-lvice  of  Philip  and  Alva 
The  Huguenots  defeated 
Humiliating  Position  of  Margaret 
Her  Resignation  accepted     . . 
Iju<t  Request  to  Philip 
She  takes  Leave  of  the  People 

Their  Regret          

Mi-  retires  to  Italy     . . 
H-T  Political  Career 
Difficulties  of  her  Position    . , 


BOOK  III. 

PAGE 

/                      CHAPTER  III. 

PAGE 

300 

REIGN  OF  TERROR          

329 

300 

Decree  of  the  Inquisition      .  . 

329 

300 

Enlarged  Powers  of  Alva 

329 

301 

Pursuit  of  Suspected  Parties 

330 

301 

Numerous  Arrests            

330 

302 

A  I  va's  Merciless  Spirit          .. 

331 

302 

Unrelenting  Persecution  

331 

303 

Fortitude  of  the  Victims 

332 

304 

Universal  Terror  

333 

304 

Banishment  and  Confiscation          .  . 

333 

304 

General  Distress    

333 

305 

Vargas  and  Hessels     

334 

306 

The  "Wild  Gueux"        

335 

306 

Remonstrances  of  Maximilian 

335 

307 

Philip's  Stern  Keply        

335 

308 

The  People  appeal  to  Orange 

336 

308 

He  raises  Troops   

336 

308 

Publishes  a  "  Justification  ".  .        .  . 

337 

308 

Plan  of  Invasion    

337 

309 

Pecuniary  Difficulties  

337 

310 
311 

Defeat  of  Hoogstraten  and  Cocqueville 
Count  Louis  at  Heyligerlee 

338 
338 

312 

Attacked  by  Aremberg    .. 

339 

312 

The  Patriots  victorious 

339 

313 

Indignation  of  Alva         

340 

314 
314 
315 

He  prepares  to  take  the  Field 
Displays  his  Vindictive  Feelings 
Tragic  Scenes  at  Brussels     .  .        .  . 

340 
340 
341 

315 

316 

316 

CHAPTER  IV. 

TRIALS  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE 

342 

The  Prisoners  at  Ghent 

342 

Sequestration  of  their  Property  .  .        .  . 
Their  Examination     .  .         .  .         .  . 

343 
343 

316 

Efforts  in  their  Behalf     

343 

316 

The  Statutes  of  the  Toison  d'  Or 

344 

317 

Q1  7 

Intercession  of  Granvelle 

344 

Oil 

11  T 

Articles  of  Accusation          .  .        .  . 

345 

J17 

Egmont's  Defence 

346 

319 
319 

Manly  Language  of  Hoorne  .  .         .  . 
Elaborate  Defence  by  Counsel 

346 
347 

320 
321 

Piteous  Appeal  of  the  Countess  Egmont 
Further  Delay  forbidden  A 

347 

348 

321 
oo«) 

The  Prisoners  sentenced       .  .        .  . 

348 

mmm 

The  Rights  of  the  Toison 

349 

322 
323 

Mockery  of  Justice     

350 

323 

323 

324 

CHAPTER  V. 

324 

325 

EXF-CTTIOK  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNB 

351 

326 

The  Counts  removed  to  Brussels     .  . 

351 

326 

Lodged  In  the  Malson  du  Rol     .  .        .  . 

362 

326 

Sentence  communicated  to  Egmont 

3i2 

327 

His  Kmotions        

352 

327 

His  Preparations  for  Death  .  .        .  . 

363 

327 

Affecting  Letter  to  the  King 

353 

CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Final  Arrangements 353 

The  Place  of  Execution 354 

Mournful  Air  of  the  City      . .        . .  355 

Egmont'j  Noble  Bearing 355 

The  F«tal  Stroke         355 

Horror  of  the  Spectators 355 

Hooroe  conducted  to  the  Scaffold    . .  356 

HisExecution         356 

Removal  of  the  Bodies          . .        . .  356 

Egmont's  Character         357 

Want  of  Fixed  Principles     . .         . .  358 

The  Idol  of  his  Countrymen       . .         . .  359 

Supposed  Enmity  of  Alva     . .         . .  359 

Stern  Policy  of  the  Duke 359 

His  Narrow,  Inflexible  Mind  . .  360 

His  Compassion  for  Egmont's  Widow  . .  360 

Her  Pitiable  Condition          . .        . .  361 

She  solicits  Aid  from  the  King  . .        . .  362 

Receives  a  Meagre  Pension  . .        . .  362 

Results  of  Egmont's  Execution  . .         . .  363 

Not  foreseen  by  Alva 364 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SECRET  EXECUTION  OF  MONTIGNT      ..    364 
Bergen  and  Montigny  . .        . .          364 


PAGE 

Conjectures  as  to  their  Fate       . .        ..  364 

Purpose  of  their  Embassy     . .        . .  365 

Their  Reluctance  to  undertake  it         . .  365 

Anxiety  to  return       366 

A  Perplexing  Dilemma 367 

Bergen's  Death            367 

Montigny  confined  at  Segovia    . .        . .  367 

Attempt  to  escape 368 

The  Plot  detected 368 

Supplications  of  his  Wife     . .        . .  368 

Process  instituted  against  him  . .         . .  369 

The  Sentence  kept  secret      . .        . .  369 

Prisoner  removed  to  Simancas  . .        . .  370 

Illusive  Hopes 371 

Pretence  for  Stricter  Confinement        . .  371 

Instructions  to  Arellano        .          . .  372 

Montigny  unprepared  for  his  Fate       . .  372 

Receives  the  Consolations  of  Religion  373 

His  Last  Wishes 373 

HisExecution 374 

False  Reports  disseminated        . .        . .  375 

Popular  Suspicions 375 

Philip's  Magnanimity 376 

Montigny's  Estates  confiscated        . .  376 

Atrocity  of  the  Proceedings       . .        . .  376 

Groen  and  Gachard 376 


BOOK  IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE 379 

Method  pursued  in  this  Work         . .  379 

Ottoman  Power  in  the  Sixteenth  Century  380 

Government  of  Turkey         . .        . .  380 

Conscription  of  Christian  Children       . .  380 

The  Janizaries 381 

Conquests  of  the  Turks 382 

Their  Naval  Power 382 

The  African  Corsairs        382 

Terror  of  the  Spanish  Coasts           . .  383 

Perpetual  War  on  the  Mediterranean  . .  383 

The  Captives  in  Barbary       . .        . .  383 

Dragut         384 

Fleet  sent  against  Tripoli     ..        ..  384 

Refits  at  Malta 385 

Spaniards  occupy  Gelves       . .         . .  385 
Victory  of  the  Turkish  Fleet     ..        ..385 

Attack  on  Gelves   • 386 

Extremity  of  the  Garrison         . .        . .  387 

Desperate  Sally           387 

Slaughter  of  the  Christians        . .         . .  387 

Spanish  Possessions  in  Africa         . .  388 

Calamitous  Shipwreck 388 

Expedition  from  Algiers       . .         . .  388 

Siege  of  Oran  and  Mazarqnivlr  . .         . .  389 

Assault  on  Fort  St.  Miohael 390 

Invincible  Courage  of  the  Spaniards    . .  390 

Storming  of  Mazarquivir       ..         ..  391 

Martin  de  Cordova 392 

Famine  among  the  Christians         . .  392 

Succours  from  Spain         393 

The  Siege  raised          393 

Conquest  of  Pefion  de  Velez       . .        . .  394 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  KNIGHTS  HOSPITALLERS  OF  ST  Jom»  395 

The  Knights  of  St.  John       . .        . .  395 

Conflicts  with  the  Moslems        . .        . .  395 

Wealth  of  the  Order 395 

Its  Statutes  and  Government     . .        . .  396 

Fidelity  to  its  Principles       . .         . .  396 

The  Knights  driven  from  Rhodes         . .  397 

Cession  of  Malta  by  Chai  les  V.       . .  397 

Change  in  its  Condition 397 

The  Maltese  Navy 398 

Sweeps  the  Turkish  Seas 398 

Solyman  prepares  to  take  Vengeance  399 

Parisot  de  la  Valette        399 

Preparations  for  Defence       . .        . .  399 

Sicilian  Viceroy  promises  Aid   . .        . .  400 

Muster  of  the  Knights          . .        . .  400 


CHAPTER  III. 

SIEGE  OF  MALTA 
Description  of  Malta  .. 
Its  Harbours  and  Defences 
Force  under  La  Valette 
Castle  of  St.  Elmo 
The  Turkish  Armament       . . 
Troops  disembarked         . . 

Skirmishes        

Turks  lay  Siege  to  St.  Elmo 
Garrison  reinforced 
The  Outworks  taken 
Fierce  Struggle  in  the  Ditch  . . 
New  Batteries  raised       . . 


400 
400 
401 
401 
402 
402 
403 
403 
404 
404 
405 
405 
406 


CONTENTS. 


Effect  of  the  Fire  on  St.  Elmo 
Garrison  propose  to  abandon  it 
Commissioners  inspect  it. . 
Report  it  tenable  . .  . . 

The  Garrison  bumbled    . . 
Permitted  to  remain   . .        . . 
Assault  by  the  Turks      . . 
Struggle  at  the  Breach  .. 

Attempted  Escalade 
The  Turks  driven  back 
Reinforcement  from  II  Borgo  . 
Communications  cut  off        . . 
Mournful  Celebration       . . 

Fresh  Assault 

Last  Triumph  of  the  Garrison 
Their  Desperate  Condition    . . 
Their  Heroic  Constancy  . . 
Incredible  Resistance  .. 

St.  Klmo  taken      . .        . . 
Brutal  Conduct  of  Mustapha 
Death  of  Dragnt    .. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SIEGE  OF  MALTA 
II  Borgo  and  La  Sangle         .. 
Reinforcement  from  Sicily 
Mustapha  offers  Terms 
The  Fortresses  invested  . . 
Preparations  for  the  Assault 
Advance  of  the  Turkish  Boats 
Attack  on  tbe  "  Spur  " 
Courageous  Defence          .. 
Turkish  Barges  sunk  . .         . . 
Merciless  Slaughter          . . 
Ha.-sem's  Attack  repulsed     . . 
Renewed  Cannonade        .. 
Kffortt*  of  tbe  Besieged 
Timid  Policy  of  the  Viceroy 
Exhortations  of  La  Valette  . . 
Successive  Assaults 
Perilous  Moment         . .         . . 
Night  Attack 

]  .osses  of  the  Christians        . . 
Their  Critical  Condition  . . 
R-  solute  Spirit  of  La  Valette 


CHAPTER  V. 

RIKCF.  OF  MALTA 

State  of  tbe  Turkish  Army  . . 

Fruitless  Expedients        . .         . . 

Tbe  Troops  dispirited. . 

Arrival  of  the  Sicilian  Fleet 

Joy  of  tbe  Uarrison 

Mustapha  prepares  to  give  Battle 

Ardour  of  the  Spaniards 

Tbe  Turks  overpowered  . .        . . 

Driven  to  the  Ships     .. 

Departure  of  tbe  Fleet 

Arrival  of  the  Viceroy 

Hospitality  of  the  Knights 

Fury  of  the  Sultan 

Jxxwes  sustained  In  the  Siege 

Tbe  Operations  review* J 


PAGF. 

PAGE 

.     406 

Errors  of  the  Turks        

436 

407 

Spirit  of  the  Defenders          ..        .. 

436 

.     408 

Character  of  La  Valette  

437 

408 

Conduct  of  the  Viceroy          .  .         .  . 

437 

.      409 

Honours  paid  to  La  Valette        .  .        .  . 

438 

409 

He  builds  a  New  Capital       .  .         .  . 

430 

.     409 

His  Death    

440 

410 

Subsequent  History  of  the  Order    .  . 

440 

.     410 

411 

.     411 

CHAPTER  VI. 

412 

DON  CARLOS           

441 

.     413 

Fate  of  Carlos  and  Isabella 

441 

413 

Theme  of  Romantic  Fiction       .  .        .  . 

441 

.     414 

Early  Life  of  Carlos    

442 

414 

A  1  A 

Charles  V.'s  Opinion  of  him 

443 

•        *  I* 

415 

Mode  of  spending  the  Day 

443 

.     415 
416 

Distaste  for  Study  and  Manly  Exercises 
Character  in  tbe  Venetian  Reports  .  . 
Enfeebled  Constitution    

443 
444 
444 

.     416 

Recognition  as  Heir    

445 

Removal  to  Alcaic           

445 

Dangerous  Illness      

446 

Miraculous  Cure     

446 

Extravagant  Behaviour         .  .         .  . 

447 

Anecdotes  of  Carlos         .  .         .  .         .  . 

448 

417 

Tiepolo's  Account  of  him     .  .        .  . 

449 

*     418 

41  Q 

Strong  Attachment  of  his  Friends 

450 

*iy 

41  Q 

Disliked  by  his  Father 

450 

•       *I*f 

Alliances  proposed  for  him         ..         .. 

451 

420 

His  Connection  with  the  Flemings.. 

452 

.     420 
421 

Not  confirmed  by  Documents    .  .        .. 

452 

Outrage  on  Alva         

452 

•     421 
422 
423 

Project  of  Flight   
Indications  of  Insanity 

453 
453 

Flight  prevented    

454 

423 

Quarrel  with  Don  John 

455 

•     424 
424 

Carlos  deprived  of  Liberty 

456 

Strictly  guarded           

456 

•     425 
425 

Process  against  him         

457 

.      426 

427 

.     428 

CHAPTER  VII. 

428 

DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS    

457 

.     429 

Sensation  throughout  Spain  .  .         .  . 

457 

429 

Pliilip's  Explanations       

457 

Letter  to  the  Queen  of  Portugal      .  . 

458 

Insanity  Intimated  as  tbe  Ground        .. 

459 

Difficulties  of  this  Vic  w         .  .        .  . 

459 

Important  Documents  missing  ..        .. 

459 

.     430 

Communications  to  the  Nuncio       .  . 

461 

430 

Suspicions  of  Heresy       

462 

.     430 

Sympathy  with  the  Flemings         .  . 

462 

431 

Parricidal  Designs  

463 

.     431 

432 

Philip's  Aversion  to  bis  Son..        .. 
No  Intercourse  with  the  World  .  .        .. 

463 

465 

.     432 

Attendants  «nd  Guards         ..         .. 

465 

433 

Fruitless  Efforts  in  his  Behalf 

465 

.     433 

Tbe  Subject  buried  in  Silence 

466 

434 

Papers  of  Carlos    

466 

.     434 
434 

Philip's  Apprehensions         ..         .. 

467 
467 

.     434 

Disregard  of  Admonitions     .  .        .  . 

468 

435 

His  Excesses         

468 

.     435 

HU  Health  drutroyed  

469 

436 

Change  in  his  Deportment          ..         .. 

4TO 

TO. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGR 

PAGE 

Philip.'s  Benediction        470 

Horrible  Tale  of  Revenge        "  .  . 

480 

No  Authority  but  Rumour 

481 

Authority  for  this  Account        .  .        .  .    471 

Means  of  establishing  the  Truth 

482 

Llorente's  Account     471 

The  Queen's  Sympathy  for  Carlos  .  . 

482 

Unsubstantiated  by  Proof           .  .         .  .     472 

His  Feeling  towards  her  

483 

Rumours  current  at  the  Time          .  .          473 

No  Vulgar  Passjon      

483 

Discrepancies  of  the  various  Accounts        474 
Insufficiency  of  the  Evidence          .  .          474 

Philip^  Kindness  to  his  Wife 
Her  Popularity  in  Spain 

483 
484 

Suspicious  Circumstances           .  .         .  .     475 

Desire  to  reclaim  Carlos  

484 

Motives  for  getting  rid  of  Carlos      .  .          475 

Pity  for  his  Fate         

484 

Unscrupulous  Character  of  Philip        .  .    475 

Her  Iljness  

485 

Quarrel  in  the  Palace  476 

Her  Las(  Hours          

486 

Obsequies  of-Carlos          477 

Final  Interview  with  Philip 

486 

Message  to  her  Family         •  •        •  • 

486 

Philip's  FeeHngs  478 

Her  Death    .  .         

487 

His  Responsibility      479 

Funeral  Honours        

487 

Mission  of  Cardinal  Guise 

488 

No  Mystery  in  (he  Narrative          .  . 

488 

CHAPTER  VTIL 

Philip  not  jealous  of  Isabella     .  .         .  . 

489 

Her  Influence  over  him         .  .         ,  . 

489 

DEATH  OF  ISABELLA        480 

Brant  ume's  Portrait  of  her         .  . 

489 

Amours  of  Carlos  and  Isabella        .  .          480 

BOOK  V. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Character  of  Aben-Humeya       .  .        .  . 

508 

His  Coronation  

508 

THE  MOORS  OF  SPAIN      491 

His  Preparations  for  Defence 

609 

Conquest  of  Spain  by  the  Arabs      .  .          491 
Hostility  between  the  Two  Races        .  .     491 

The  Christian  Population      .  .         .  . 
Unsuspicious  of  their  Danger 

509 
510 

The  Country  recovered  by  the  Spaniards    492 

Attacked  by  the  Moors  —  Panic       .  . 

610 

Effect  of  the  Struggle  on  the  National 

General  Massacre  

611 

Character  .  .         492 

Horrible  Cruelties       

511 

Religious  Intolerance  of  the  Spaniards       493 

Fate  of  the  Women  and  Children         .  . 

612 

Attempts'  to  convert  the  Moslems         ..     493 

Fierceness  of  Aben-Farax     .  .        .  . 

613 

Policy  of  Xlmenes       493 

Deposed  from  his  Command       .  .        .  . 

613 

Suppression  of  the  Mahometan  Worship    494 

Outward  Conformity  to  Christianity           494 

Moors  abandon  their  National  Habits  .  .     495 

CHAPTER  in. 

Their  Condition  under  Philip  the  Second    495 
Their  Industry  and  Commerce  .  .         .  .    495 

REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES  .  .        .  . 

514 

Treatment  by  the  Government        .  .          496 

Consternation  In  the  Capital  .  .         .  . 

614 

Ordinance  of  1563  498 

Mutual  Fears  of  the  two  Races  .  .         .  . 

614 

Stringent  Measures  called  for  by  the 
Clergy  499 

Garrison  of  the  Alhambra  strengthened 
Troops  mustered  by  Mondejar   .  .         .  . 

515 
515 

Prepared  by  the  Government     .  .         .  .     499 

Civic  Militia—  Feudal  Levies 

515 

Severity  of  the  Enactments  .  .         .  .          500 

Warlike  Ecclesiastics      

516 

Approval  of  them  by  Philip       .  .         .  .     501 

March  of  the  Army    

516 

Proclamation  at  Granada      .  .         .  .          502 

Pass  of  Tablate      

517 

Indignation  of  the  Moriscoes      ..         ..     502 

Bridge  crossed  by  a  Friar      .  . 

518 

Representations  to  Deza       .  .         .  .          503 

513 

Appeal  to  the  Throne      503 

The  Moriscoes  withdraw       .  . 

518 

Rejection  of  their  Prayers    .  .        .  .          503 

Entrance  into  the  Alpujarras 

518 

Night  Encampment  at  Lanjaron     .  . 

619 

Relief  of  Orgiba     

519 

CHAPTER  II. 

Mondejar  pursues  bis  March           .  . 

620 

REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES  .  .        .  .    504 

Gloom  of  the  Mountain  Scenery 
Defile  of  Alfajarali      

620 
520 

The  Edict  enforced     604 

Sudden  Attack      

621 

Plans  for  Resistance  by  the  Moriscoes.  .    505 

Bravery  of  the  Andalneian  Knights 

521 

Their  Descent  on  Granada    .  .         .  .          506 
Failure  of  the  Attempt    507 

Precipitate  Retreat  of  the  Moriscoes     .  . 
Capture  of  Bubion       .  . 

521 
521 

General  Insurrection  .  .         .  .         .  .          507 
Election  of  a  King  608 

Humanity  of  Mondejar    ..         .. 
Sufferings  of  the  Army 

522 
522 

CONTENTS. 


xxi 


PAGE 

Capture  of  Jubfles 623 

Prisoners  protected  by  Mondejar     . .  523 

Massacred  by  the  Soldiers          . .         . .  524 

Christian  Women  sent  to  Granada  ..  524 

Welcomed  by  the  Inhabitants   . .         . .  524 


CHAPTER  IY. 


REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES.. 
•  Mondejar's  Policy.       . .         . .         . . 

.•\U  n-IIumeya  at  Pateina  . .          .. 

Offers  to  surrender 

Flight  to  the  Sierra  Nevada 
Disposition  of  the  Moorish  Prisoners 

Attack  on  Las  Guajaras 

Evacuated  by  the  Garrison    . .         . . 
Massacre  ordered  by  Mondejar  . .        . . 
Cruelty  of  the  Count  of  Tendilla     . . 
Attempt  to  capture  Aben-Humeya     . . 

His  Escape       . .       • 

Heroism  of  Aben- Aboo 

The  Marquis  of  Los  Velez 
His  Campaign  in  tlie  Alpujarras          . . 
Cruelties  committed  by  the  Troops 
Celebration  of  a  religious  Fete  ..         .. 
Licentiousness  of  the  Soldiery 
Contrast    between   Mondejar  and  Los 

Velez        ..'       533 

Accusations  against  the  former       . .         534 

Decision  arrived  at  in  Madrid    . . 

Ellect  on  the  Army 

Moorish  Prisoners  in  Granada   . . 

Rumours  circulated  in  the  Capital 

Night  Attack  on  the  Prisoners  . . 

Fearful  Struggle  and  Massacre 

Apatlyr  of  the  Government        . . 

Renewal  of  the  Insurrection.. 


525 
525 
526 
526 
627 
627 
528 
528 
529 
529 
530 
530 
530 
531 
631 
532 
532 
533 


535 
635 
635 
636 
536 
537 
537 
638 


CHAPTER  V. 

REBELLION  OF  THK  MORISCOES           ..  539 

Don  John  of  Austria 639 

Birth  and  Early  History 539 

Placed  under  the  Care  of  Quixada  . .  540 
Secrecy  in  regard  to  bis  Origin  . .        . .  640 
The  young  Genmimo  at  Yuste        . .  641 
Testamentary  Dispositions  of  the  Em- 
peror    542 

The  Hoy  presented  to  the  Regent        . .  642 

Curious  Scene   .' 643 

Meeting  appointed  with  the  King        . .  543 

Philip  acknowledges  his  Brother     ..  544 

Afcsigns  him  an  Establishment  . .         . .  644 

Royal  Triumvirate  at  Alcala          ..  645 

Chivalrous  Character  of  Don  John        . .  545 

II  in  Adventurous  Disposition          . .  646 
He  U  intrusted  with  the  Command  of  * 

Fleet 647 

His  Cruise  In  the  Mediterranean          . .  647 
He   is   selected   for  the  Command  in 

Granada 647 

Restrictions  on  his  Authority         ..  648 

His  Reception  at  Grannda          ..         ..  648 

Answers  to  Petitioners          ..         ..  649 

Discussion*  in  the  Council  of  War       . .  660 


PAGE 

New  Levies  summoned        . .        . .  550 

Increased  Power  of  Aben-Hnmeya       . .  550 

Forays  into  the  Christian  Territory  551 

Movements  pf  Los  Velez . .         . .         . .  552 

Extension  of  the  Rebellion  . .        . .  652 

Successful  Expedition  of  Requesens    . .  552 

Moriscoes  lay  Siege  to  Seron . .         . .  553 

Surrender  and  Massacre  of  tbe  Garrison  553 
Decree  for  removing  the  Moriscoes  from 

Granada 554 

Their  Consternation  and  Grief        . .  554 

Expulsion  from  tbe  City 555 

Farewell  to  their  Ancient  Home     ..  656 

Distribution  through  the  Country        . .  656 

Ruinous  Effects  on  Granada  . .         . .  556 

Character  of  the  Transaction      . .        . .  556 


..        CHAPTER  VL 

REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISOOES..        ..  657 

State  of  the  Troops  under  Los  Velez  557 

Encounter  with  Aben-Humeya..        ..  558 

Flight  of  the  Morisco  Prince. .         . .  558 

Desertions  from  the  Spanish  Camp      . .  559 

Mondejar  recalled  to  Court   ..        ..  659 

f  His  Character        659 

Exterminating    Policy  of  the  Govern- 
ment        ,.        ...         560 

Sensual  Tyranny  of  Aben-Humeya  560 

Treacbery  tQwards. Diego  Alguazil       ..  561 

Plan  of  Revenge  formed  by  Alguazil  661 

Conspiracy  against  Aben-Humeya       ..  562 

His  Assassination       ..        ..        ..  663 

He  is  succeeded  by  Aben- Aboo  . .        . .  563 

Energy  pf  tbe  pew  Chief       . .         . .  564 

Repulse  at  Qrgiba 564 

The  Place  evacuated  by  the  Garrison  665 

Continual  Forays 665 

Conflicts  in  the  Vega 666 

Don  John's  Desire  for  Action     ..        ..  566 

Philip  yields  to  bis  Entreaties         . .  566 

Preparations  for  the  Campaign  . .         . .  667 

Surprise  of  Guejar 667 

Mortification  of  Don  John  . .         . .  568 

Meudoza  the  Historian         . .        . .  668 


CHAPTER  VIL 

REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES..        ..  570 

Philip's  Instructions  to  his  Brother  670 

Don  John  takes  the  Field  ..         ..  571 

Discontent  of  Los  Velez        ..         ..  671 

His  Meeting  with  Don  John      ..         ..  572 

He  retires  from  the  War       . .        . .  572 

Investment  of  Galera       673 

Description  of  the  Place        ..        ..  673 

Munitions  and  Garrison 674 

Establishment  of  Batteries  . .        . .  674 

The  Siege  opened 675 

First  Assault 675 

Spaniards  repulsed  676 

Mines  opened  In  the  Rock    . .        . .  576 

Second  Assault 576 

Explosion  of  the  Mine  ..         ..  577 

Troops  rush  to  the  Attack         ..        ..  677 


xxii 


CONTENTS. 


FACE 

Straggle  at  the  Ravelin        . .        . .  678 

Bravery  of  the  Morisco  Women           ..  678 

111  Success  of  1'adilla 678 

Failure  of  the  Attack 679 

Insubordination  of  the  Troops         ..  679 

Severe  Loss  of  the  Spaniards      . .         . .  679 

Bloody  Determination  of  Don  John  680 

Prudent  Advice  of  Philip           . .        . .  680 

Condition  of  the  Besieged     . .         . .  680 

Preparations  for  a  last  Attack   ..         ..  681 

Cannonade  and  Explosions  . .         . .  682 

Third  Assault         682 

Irresistible  Fury  of  the  Spaniards  . .  682 

Struggle  in  the  Streets  and  Houses      . .  683 

Desperation  of  the  Inhabitants         ..  683 

Inhumanity  of  the  Conqueror    . .        . .  684 

Wholesale  Massacre 684 

The  Town  demolished 5*5 

Tidings  communicated  to  Philip     . .  685 

Reputation  gained  by  Don  John          ..  686 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

REBELLION  or  THE  MORISCO ES..        ..  686 

Seron  reconnoitred 686 

Sudden  Attack  by  the  Moriscoes          ..  686 

Army  thrown  into  Confusion         ..  687 

Indignation  of  Don  John 687 

Death  of  Quixada        688 

His  Character         689 

Dona  Magdalena  de  Ulloa     . .        . .  689 

Rapid  Successes  of  Don  John     . .         . .  689 

Negotiations  opened  with  El  Habaqul  690 

Merciless  Pursuit  of  the  Rebels. .         . .  590 

Guerilla  Warfare        691 

Conferences  at  Fondon 691 

Aben-Aboo  consents  to  treat           . .  692 

Arrangement  concluded 592 

Submission  tendered  by  El  Habaqui  692 

Dissatisfaction  with  the  Treaty . .         . .  693 

Vacillation  of  Aben-Aboo     . .         . .  593 

El  Habaqui  engages  to  arrest  him       . .  594 

Fate  i.f  El  Habaqui 594 

Mission  of  Palacios           595 

His  Interview  with  Aben-Aboo      ..  595 

Spirited  Declaration  of  that  Chief         . .  595 

Stern  Resolve  of  the  Government   . .  596 

War  of  Extermination 596 

Expedition  of  the  Duke  of  Arcos     . .  597 

March  across  the  Pluin  of  Calaluz        . .  697 

Engagement  with  the  Moriscoes     ..  697 

The  Rebellion  crushed 698 

Edict  of  Expulsion 698 

Removal  of  the  Moriscoes           . .        . .  698 

Don  John's  Impatience  to  resign    . .  599 

His  final  Dispositions 600 

Hiding-Place  of  Aben-Aboo  . .         . .  600 

Plot  formed  for  his  Capture        . .         . .  601 

His  Interview  with  El  Senix           ..  601 

His  Murder 601 

His  Body  brought  to  Granada          ..  601 

His  Head  pluced  in  a  Cage          . .         . .  602 

Remarks  on  his  Career          . .         . .  602 

Wasted  Condition  of  the  Country         . .  603 

The  scattered  Moriscoes        . .         . .  604 

Cruelly  treated  by  the  Government     . .  604 


FAGR 

Their  Industry  and  Cheerfulness    . .  604 

Increase  of  their  Numbers         . .        . .  605 

They  preserve  their  National  Feeling  605 

Mutual  Hatred  of  the  Two  Races         ..  606 

Expulsion  of  the  Moriscoes  from  Spain  606 

Works  of  Mannol  and  Circourt . .        . .  606 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WAR  •wren  THE  TDRKS 607 

Sultan  Selim  the  Second       . .        . .  607 

Determines  on  the  Conquest  of  Cyprus  608 

Spirit  of  Pius  the  Fifth          ..         ..  608 

His  Appeals  to  Philip 608 

King's  Entrance  into  Seville. .         ..  609 

Determines  to  join  the  League  . .        . .  609 

Capture  of  Nicosia 610 

Vacillating  Conduct  of  Venice  ..        ..  610 

Meeting  of  Deputies  at  Rome          . .  610 

Treaty  of  Confederation 611 

Ratified  and  proclaimed        ..         ..  611 

Turkish  Fleet,  in  the  Adriatic    . .         . .  612 

Papal  Legate  at  Madrid        ..         ..  612 

Concessions  to  the  Crown           . .        . .  612 

Fleets  of  Venice  and  Rome  . .        . .  613 

Preparations  in  Spain 613 

Enthusiasm  of  the  Nation     ..         ..  614 

Don  John's  Departure 614 

His  Reception  at  Naples       ..        ..  614 

His  noble  Appearance 615 

Accomplishments  and  Popularity  . .  615 

Presentation  of  the  Consecrated  Standard  615 

Arrival  at  Messina 616 

Grand  Naval  Spectacle 616 

Strength  and  Condition  of  the  Fleets  616 

Discretion  of  the  Generalissimo..         ..  61T 

Communications  from  the  Pope      . .  617 

Departure  from  Messina 618 


CHAPTER  X. 

WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS 618 

Arrival  at  Corfu          618 

Council  of  War 619 

Resolution  to  give  Battle      ..        ..  619 

Arbitrary  Conduct  of  Veniero    ..        ..  619 

Passage  across  the  Sea  of  Ionia       . .  620 

Fall  ot  Famagosta 620 

The  Enemy  in  Sight 621 

Preparations  for  Combat 621 

Final  Instructions  of  Don  John       . .  621 

Approach  of  the  Turkish  Fleet . .        . .  622 

Its  Form  and  Disposition      . .         . .  622 

Change  in  the  Order  of  Battle     . .         . .  623 

Last  Preparation  of  the  Christians  . .  623 

Battle  of  Lepanto 624 

Left  Wing  of  the  Allies  turned       . .  624 

Rtgbt  Wing,  under  Doria,  broken        ..  624 

Don  John  and  AH  Pasha  engage     . .  625 

Superior  Fire  of  the  Spaniards  . .        . .  625 

Bird's-eye  View  of  the  Scene           . .  626 

Venetians  victorious  on  the  Left         . .  626 

Continued  Struggle  in  the  Centre    . .  .627 

Turkish  Admiral  boarded          ..         ..  627 

Death  of  All  Pasha 628 


CONTENTS. 


xxiii 


PAGE 

Victory  of  the  Christians 628 

Flight  of  Uluch  All 629 

Chase  and  Escape 629 

Allies  take  Shelter  in  Petala. .        . .  629 


CHAPTER  XL 

WAR  WITH  THE  TCBKS 630 

Losses  of  the  Combatants      ..         ..  630 

Turkish  Armada  annihilated     ..         ..  630 

Boll  of  Slaughter  and  Fame  . .        . .  631 

Exploits  of  Farnese         631 

Noble  Spirit  of  Cervantes      ..         ..  631 

Sons  of  Ali  Pasha  Prisoners       . .         . .  632 

Generously  treated  by  Don  John     . .  632 

His  Conduct  towards  Veniero    . .        . .  632 

Operations  suspended 633 

Triumphant  Return  to  Messina           ..  633 

Celebrations  in  Honour  of  the  Victory  634 
Tidings  despatched  to  Spain       ..         ..634 

Philip's  Reception  of  them  ..        ..  635 


PAOK 

Acknowledgments  to  his  Brother        . .  635 

Don  John's  Conduct  criticised         . .  636 

Real  Fruits  of  the  Victory          . .         . .  637 

Delay  in  resuming  Operations        . .  63T 

Death  of  Pius  the  Fiah 638 

Philip's  Distrust           638 

Permits  his  Brother  to  sail         . .        . .  639 

Turks  decline  to  accept  Battle        . .  639 

Anniversary  of  Lepanto 639 

Allies  disband  their  Forces  . .        . .  640 

Perfidy  of  Venice 640 

The  League  dissolved 640 

Tunis  taken  by  Don  John          ..        ..  641 

He  provides  for  its  Security  . .        . .  641 

Returns  to  Naples 642 

His  Mode  of  Life  there  ..  ..  642 
His  Schemes  of  Dominion  ..  ..  642 
Tuni-»  retaken  by  the  Moslems  . .  643 
Don  John's  Mission  to  Genoa  . .  . .  643 
He  prepares  a  fresh  Armament  . .  644 
His  Disappointment,  and  Return  to  Ma- 
drid    644 


BOOK  VI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN     ..        ..  645 

Internal  Administration        ..         ..  645 
Revolutions  under  Isabella  and  Charles 

V 615 

AliM>luU>  Power  of  the  Crown         . .  646 

Contrast  between  Charles  and  Philip    . .  646 

The  latter  wholly  a  Spaniard  ..  646 

The  Royal  Councils          64V 

Principal  Advisers  of  the  Crown    ..  647 

Character  of  Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva         . .  648 

Figueroa.  Count  of  Feria      . .         . .  649 

Cardinal  Espinosa 650 

Two  Partii-s  in  the  Council   ..         ..  651 

Balance  held  by  1'hilip 651 

His  Manner  of  transacting  Business  652 

Hl«  Assiduity        652 

Hi*  Mode  of  dividing  the  Day         . .  653 

His  Love  of  Solitude       653 

Kxtent  of  his  Information     ..         ..  654 

Partial  Confidence  in  his  Ministers      ..  6:>4 

Hin  Frugality 654 

His  Magnificent  Establishment . .         . .  655 

Mm  Fatal  Habit  ..f  Procrastination. .  6S6  'I 

Ttein'Mistranci-s  of  hid  Almoner  ..        V.  656 

Habits  of  the  great  Nobles  . .         . .  657 

Manners  of  the  Court       657 

D<"generacy  of  the  Noblrs     . .         . .  657 

Splendour  of  their  Households  . .         . .  653 

Utm  of  Political  Power         . .        . .  658 

]>  i  ircssed  Condition  of  the  Commons  ..  659 

Petition*  of  the  Cortes  ..         ..  659 

Their  Romonut  ranees  against  Arbitrary 

Government  . .  .  659 


Their  Regard  for  the  National  Interests  660 

Erroneous  Notions  respecting  Commerce  660 

Sumptuary  Laws         . .         . .         . .  660 

Encouragement  of  Bull-  Fights  ..        ..  661 

Various  Subjects  of  legislation       . .  661 

Schools  and  Universities 662 

Royal  Pragmatics       . .         . .         . .  662 

Philip's  Replies  to  the  Cortes     . .         . .  663 

Freedom  of  Discussion          . .        . .  663 

Standing  Army 664 

Guards  of  Castile        664 


CHAPTER  II. 

DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN     ..        ..  664 

Philip  the  Champion  of  the  Faith  . .  664 

Endowments  of  the  Church        . .         . .  664 

Alienations  in  Mortmain      ..         ..  665 

Disputed  Prerogatives 665 

Appointments  to  Benefices   ..         ..  666 

The  Clergy  dependent  on  the  Crown    . .  666 

The  Escorial 666 

Motives  for  its  Erection 667 

Rite  selected 667 

Convent  founded 668 

Uny.il  Humility          668 

Building  commenced        ..         ..         ..  669 

Philip's  Interest  in  It 669 

His  Architectural  Taste  ..         ..         ..  669 

His  Oversight  of  the  Work    ..         ..  670 

He  governs  the  World  from  the  Escorial  670 

The  Edifice  endangered  by  Fire       . .  670 

Material*  used  In  its  Construction        ..  671 

ArtisU  employed        672 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PHILIP  THE  SECOND Frontispiece. 

FAC-SIMILE  OF  AUTOGRAPH  LETTER  OK  PHILIP  THE 

SECOND Preceding  Book  I. 

MARGARET  OF  PARMA,  REGENT  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS     .    .  page  154 
DON  FERNANDO  ALVAREZ  DE  TOLEDO,  DUKE  OF  ALVA    .    .      "     300 

SCENE  OF  OPERATIONS  IN  MALTA "    400 

DON  CARLOS "440 

DON  JOHN  OF  AUSTRIA "     639 

ANNE  OF  AUSTRIA   .  "    675 


HISTORY  OF 

PHILIP  THE   SECOND. 


BOOK  I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ABDICATION  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

Introductory  Remarks— Spain  under  Charles  the  Fifth— He  prepares  to  resign  the  Crown— Hto 
Abdication— His  Return  to  Spain — His  Journey  *o  Yuste. 

1555. 

IN  a  former  work  I  have  endeavoured  to  portray  the  period  when  the  different 
provinces  of  Spain  were  consolidated  into  one  empire  under  the  rule  of  Ferdi- 
nand and  Isabella ;  when,  by  their  wise  and  beneficent  policy,  the  nation 
emerged  from  the  obscurity  in  which  it  had  so  long  remained  behind  the 
Pyrenees,  and  took  its  place  as  one  of  the  great  members  of  the  European 
commonwealth.  I  now  propose  to  examine  a  later  period  in  the  history  of 
the  same  nation, — the  reign  of  Philip  the  Second ;  when,  with  resources 
greatly  enlarged,  and  territory  extended  by  a  brilliant  career  of  discovery  and 
conquest,  it  had  risen  to  the  zenith  of  its  power,  but  when,  under  the  mis- 
chievous policy  of  the  administration,  it  nad  excited  the  jealousy  of  its 
neighbours,  and  already  disclosed  those  germs  of  domestic  corruption  which 
gradually  led  to  its  dismemberment  and  decay. 

By  the  marriage  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  most  of  the  states  of  the  Penin- 
sula became  united  under  one  common  rule ;  and  in  1516  the  sceptre  of  Spain, 
with  its  dependencies  both  in  the  Old  and  the  New  World,  passed  into  the 
hands  of  their  grandson,  Charles  the  Fifth,  who,  though  he  shared  the  throne 
nominally  with  his  mother,  Joanna,  became,  in  consequence  of  her  incapacity, 
the  real  sovereign  of  this  vast  empire.  He  had  Irefore  inherited,  through  his 
father,  Philip  the  Handsome,  that  fair  portion  of  the  ducal  realm  of  Burgundy 
which  comprehended  Franche-Comte  and  the  Netherlands.  In  1519  he  was 
elected  to  the  imi>erial  crown  of  Germany.  Not  many  years  elapsed  before 
liis  domain  was  still  further  enlarged  by  the  barbaric  empires  of  Mexico  and 
iViu;  and  Spain  then  first  realized  trie  magnificent  vaunt,  since  so  often 
repeated,  that  the  sun  never  set  within  the  borders  of  her  dominions. 

Yet  the  importance  of  Spain  did  not  rise  with  the  importance  of  her  acqui- 
sitions. She  was,  in  a  manner,  lost  in  the  magnitude  of  these  acquisitions. 
Some  of  the  rival  nations  which  owned  the  sway  of  Charles,  in  Europe,  were 

B 


2  ABDICATION  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

of  ranch  greater  importance  than  Spain,  and  attracted  much  more  attention 
from  their  contemporaries.  In  the  earlier  period  of  that  monarch's  reign  there 
was  a  moment  when  a  contest  was  going  forward  in  Castile,  of  the  deepest 
interest  to  mankind.  Unfortunately,  the  "  War  of  the  Comunidades"  as  it 
was  termed,  was  soon  closed  by  the  ruin  of  the  patriots  ;  and  on  the  memo- 
rable field  of  Villalar  the  liberties  of  Spam  received  a  blow  from  which  they 
were  destined  not  to  recover  for  centuries.  From  that  fatal  hour — the  bitter 
fruit  of  the  jealousy  of  castes  and  the  passions  of  the  populace — an  unbroken 
tranquillity  reignea  throughout  the  country ;  such  a  tranquillity  as  naturally 
flows  not  from  a  free  and  well-conducted  government,  but  from  a  despotic 
one.  In  this  political  tranquillity,  however,  the  intellect  of  Spain  did  not 
slumber.  Sheltered  from  invasion  by  the  barrier  of  the  Pyrenees,  her  people 
were  allowed  to  cultivate  the  arts  of  peace,  so  long  as  they  did  not  meddle 
with  politics  or  religion, — in  other  words,  with  the  great  interests  of  humanity ; 
while  the  more  adventurous  found  a  scope  for  their  prowess  in  European  wars, 
or  in  exploring  the  boundless  regions  of  the  Western  world. 

While  there  was  so  little  passing  in  Spain  to  attract  the  eye  of  the  historian, 
Germany  became  the  theatre  of  one  of  those  momentous  struggles  which  have 
had  a  permanent  influence  on  the  destinies  of  mankind.  It  was  in  this  reign 
that  the  great  battle  of  religious  liberty  was  begun  ;  and  the  attention  and 
personal  presence  of  Charles  were  necessarily  demanded  most  in  the  country 
where  that  battle  was  to  be  fought.  But  a  small  part  of  his  life  was  passed 
in  Spain  in  comparison  with  what  he  spent  in  other  parts  of  his  dominions. 
His  early  attachments,  his  lasting  sympathies,  were  with  the  people  of  the 
Netherlands ;  for  Flanders  was  the  place  of  his  birth.  He  spoke  the  lan- 
guage of  that  country  more  fluently  than  the  Castilian ;  although  he  knew 
the  various  languages  of  his  dominions  so  well  that  he  could  address  his  sub- 
jects from  every  quarter  in  their  native  dialect.  In  the  same  manner,  he 
could  accommodate  himself  to  their  peculiar  national  manners  and  tastes. 
But  this  flexibility  was  foreign  to  the  genius  of  the  Spaniard.  Charles 
brought  nothing  from  Spain  but  a  religious  zeal,  amounting  to  bigotry,  which 
took  deep  root  in  a  melancholy  temperament  inherited  from  his  mother.  His 
tastes  were  all  Flemish.  He  introduced  the  gorgeous  ceremonial  of  the  Bur- 
gundian  court  into  his  own  palace,  and  into  the  household  of  his  son.  He 
drew  his  most  trusted  and  familiar  counsellors  from  Flanders ;  and  this  was 
one  great  cause  of  the  troubles  which  at  the  beginning  of  his  reign  distracted 
Castile.  There  was  little  to  gratify  the  pride  of  the  Spaniard  in  the  position 
which  he  occupied  at  the  imperial  court.  Charles  regarded  Spain  chiefly  for 
the  resources  she  afforded  for  carrying  on  his  ambitious  enterprises.  When 
he  visited  her,  it  was  usually  to  draw  supplies  from  the  cortes.  The  Spaniards 
understood  this,  and  bore  less  affection  to  his  person  than  to  many  of  their 
monarchs  far  inferior  to  him  in  the  mialities  for  exciting  it.  They  hardly 
regarded  him  as  one  of  the  nation.  There  was,  indeed,  nothing  national  in 
the  reign  of  Charles.  His  most  intimate  relations  were  with  Germany ;  and 
as  the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth  of  Germany,  not  as  King  Charles  the  First 
of  Spain,  he  was  known  in  his  own  time  and  stands  recorded  on  the  pages  of 
history. 

When  Charles  ascended  the  throne,  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  .cen- 
tury, Europe  may  be  said  to  have  been  in  much  the  same  condition,  in  one 
respect,  as  she  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  eighth.  The  Turk  menaced  her 
on  the  east,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  Arab  had  before  menaced  her  on  the 
west.  The  hour  seemed  to  be  fast  approaching  which  was  to  decide  whether 
Christianity  or  Mahometanism  should  hold  the  ascendant.  The  Ottoman  tide 


SPAIN  UNDER  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH.  3 

of  conquest  rolled  np  to  the  very  walls  of  Vienna ;  and  Charles,  who,  as  head 
of  the  empire,  was  placed  on  the  frontier  of  Christendom,  was  called  on  to 
repel  it.  When  thirty-two  years  of  age,  he  marched  against  the  formidable 
Solyman,  drove  him  to  an  ignominious  retreat,  and,  at  less  cost  of  life  than  is 
often  expended  in  a  skirmish,  saved  Europe  from  an  invasion.  He  afterwards 
crossed  the  sea  to  Tunis,  then  occupied  by  a  horde  of  pirates,  the  scourge  of 
the  Mediterranean.  He  beat  them  in  a  bloody  battle,  slew  their  chief,  and 
liberated  ten  thousand  captives  from  their  dungeons.  All  Europe  rang  with 
the  praises  of  the  young  hero  who  thus  consecrated  his  arms  to  the  service  of 
the  Cross  and  stood  forward  as  the  tnie  champion  of  Christendom. 

But  from  this  high  position  Charles  was  repeatedly  summoned  to  other 
contests,  of  a  more  personal  and  far  less  honourable  character.  Such  was  his 
long  and  bloody  quarrel  with  Francis  the  First.  It  was  hardly  possible  that 
two  princes  so  well  matched  in  years,  power,  pretensions,  and,  above  all,  love 
of  military  glory,  with  dominions  touching  on  one  another  through  their 
whole  extent,  could  long  remain  without  cause  of  rivalry  and  collision.  Such 
rivalry  did  exist  from  the  moment  that  the  great  prize  of  the  empire  was 
adjudged  to  Charles ;  and  through  the  whole  of  their  long  struggle,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  reverses,  the  superior  genius  of  the  emperor  triumphed 
over  his  bold  but  less  politic  adversary. 

There  was  still  a  third  contest,  on  which  the  strength  of  the  Spanish 
monarch  was  freely  expended  through  the  greater  part  of  his  reign, — his 
contest  with  the  Lutheran  princes  of  Germany.  Here,  too,  for  a  long  time, 
fortune  favoured  him.  But  it  is  easier  to  contend  against  man  than  against 
a  great  moral  principle.  The  principle  of  reform  had  struck  too  deep  into 
the  mind  of  Germany  to  be  eradicated  by  force  or  by  fraud.  Charles  for  a 
long  time,  by  a  course  of  crafty  policy,  succeeded  in  battling  the  Protestant 
league,  and  by  the  decisive  victory  at  Muhlberg  seemed  at  last  to  have  broken 
it  altogether.  But  his  success  only  ministered  to  his  ruin.  The  very  man  on 
whom  he  bestowed  the  spoils  of  victory  turned  them  against  his  benefactor. 
Charles,  ill  in  body  and  mind,  and  glad  to  escape  from  his  enemies  under 
cover  of  the  night  and  a  driving  tempest,  was  at  length  compelled  to  sign  the 
treaty  of  Passau,  which  secured  to  the  1'rotestants  those  religious  immunities 
against  which  he  had  contended  through  his  whole  reign. 

Not  long  after,  he  experienced  another  humiliating  reverse  from  France, 
then  ruled  by  a  younger  rival,  Henry  the  Second,  the  son  of  Francis.  The 
good  star  of  Charles — the  star  of  Austria—  seemed  to  have  set ;  and,  as  he 
reluctantly  raised  the  siege  of  Metz,  he  was  heard  bitterly  to  exclaim,  "  For- 
tune is  a  strumpet,  who  reserves  her  favours  for  the  voung  !  " 

With  spirits  greatly  depressed  by  his  reverses,  anft  still  more  by  the  state 
of  his  health,  which  precluded  him  from  taking  part  in  the  manly  and  martial 
exercises  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed,  he  felt  that  he  had  no  longer  the 
same  strength  as  formerly  to  bear  up  under  the  toils  of  empire.  When  but 
little  more  than  thirty  years  of  age,  he  had  been  attacked  by  the  gout,  and 
of  late  had  been  so  sorely  afflicted  with  that  disorder  that  he  had  nearly  lost 
the  use  of  his  limbs.  The  man  who,  cased  in  steel,  had  passed  whole  days 
and  nights  in  the  saddle,  indifferent  to  the  weather  and  the  season,  could 
now  hardly  drag  himself  along  with  the  aid  of  his  staff.  For  days  he  was 
confined  to  his  bed  ;  and  he  did  not  leave  his  room  for  weeks  together.  His 
mind  became  oppressed  with  melancholy,  which  was  to  some  extent  a  con- 
stitutional infirmity.  His  chief  pleasure  was  in  listening  to  hooks,  especially 
of  a  religious  character.  He  denied  himself  to  all  except  his  most  intimate 
and  trusted  counsellors.  He  lost  his  interest  in  affairs;  and  for  whole 


4  ABDICATION  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

months,  according  to  one  of  his  biographers,  who  had  access  to  his  person, 
he  refused  to  receive  any  public  communication,  or  to  subscribe  any  docu- 
ment, or  even  letter.1  One  cannot  understand  how  the  business  of  the  nation 
could  have  been  conducted  in  such  a  state  of  things.  After  the  death  of  his 
mother,  Joanna,  his  mind  became  more  deeply  tinctured  with  those  gloomy 
fancies  which  in  her  amounted  to  downrigh't  insanity.  He  imagined  he 
heard  her  voice  calling  on  him  to  follow  her.  His  thoughts  were  now  turned 
from  secular  concerns  to  those  of  his  own  soul ;  and  he  resolved  to  put  in 
execution  a  plan  for  resigning  his  crdwn  and  withdrawing  to  some  religious 
retreat,  where  he  might  prepare  for  his  latter  end.  This  plan  he  had  con- 
ceived many  years  before,  in  the  full  tide  of  successful  ambition.  So  opposite 
were  the  elements  at  work  in  the  character  of  this  extraordinary  man  ! 

Although  he  had  chosen  the  place  of  his  retreat,  he  had  been  deterred  from 
immediately  executing  his  purpose  by  the  forlorn  condition  of  his  mother  and 
the  tender  age  of  his  son.  The  first  obstacle  was  now  removed  by  the  death 
of  Joanna,  after  a  reign — a  nominal  reign — of  half  a  century,  in  which  the 
cloud  that  had  settled  on  her  intellect  at  her  husband's  death  was  never 
dispelled. 

The  age  of  Philip,  his  son  and  heir,  was  also  no  longer  an  objection.  From 
early  boyhood  he  had  been  trained  to  the  duties  of  his  station,  and,  when 
very  young,  had  been  intrusted  with  the  government  of  Castile.  His  father 
had.  surrounded  him  with  able  and  experienced  counsellors,  and  their  pupil, 
who  showed  a  discretion  far  beyond  his  years,  had  largely  profited  by  their 
lessons.  He  had  now  entered  his  twenty-ninth  year,  an  age  when  the  cha- 
racter is  formed,  and  when,  if  ever,  he  might  be  supposed  qualified  to  assume 
the  duties  of  government.  His  father  had  already  ceded  to  him  the  sove- 
reignty of  Naples  and  Milan,  on  occasion  of  the  prince's  marriage  with  Mary 
of  England.  He  was  on  a  visit  to  that  country,  when  Charles,  having  de- 
cided on  the  act  of  abdication,  sent  to  require  his  son's  attendance  at  Brussels, 
where  the  ceremony  was  to  be  performed.  The  different  provinces  of  the 
Netherlands  were  also  summoned  to  send  their  deputies,  with  authority  to 
receive  the  emperor's  resignation  and  to  transfer  their  allegiance  to  his  suc- 
cessor. As  a  preliminary  step,  on  the  twenty-second  of  October,  1555,  he 
conferred  on  Philip  the  grand-mastership — which,  as  lord  of  Flanders,  was 
vested  in  himself — of  the  toison  d'or,  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  of 
Burgundy,  the  proudest  and  most  coveted,  at  that  day,  of  all  the  military 
orders  of  knighthood. 

Preparations  were  then  made  for  conducting  the  ceremony  of  abdication 
with  all  the  pomp  and  solemnity  suited  to  so  august  an  occasion.  The  great 
hall  of  the  royal  palace  of  Brussels  was  selected  for  the  scene  of  it.  The  walls 
of  the  spacious  apartment  were  hung  with  tapestry,  and  the  floor  was  covered 
with  rich  carpeting.  A  scaffold  was  erected  at  one  end  of  the  room,  to  the 
height  of  six  or  seven  steps.  On  it  was  placed  a  throne,  or  chair  of  state,  for 
the  emperor,  with  other  seats  for  Philip  and  for  the  great  Flemish  lords  who 
were  to  attend  the  person  of  their  sovereign.  Above  the  throne  was  suspended 
a  gorgeous  canopy,  on  which  were  emblazoned  the  arms  of  the  ducal  house  of 

1  "Post  annum  aatatis    quinquagesimum,  comroodoreipublicaspopnlariumquedispeinlio 

prementibus  morbis,   tantopere   negotiornni  fieb;it,  cum  a  tot  nationibus,  et  quibusdnm 

odium  cepit,  ut  diutius  interdum  nee  se  adiri  longissime  jus  inde  peteretur,  et  ccrte  Minima 

autconveniripraterquamabintiniispateretur,  negotia  ad  ipsum  fere  rejicerentur."    (Scpul- 

nec  libellis  mibscribere  animum  indiiceret,  won  vedse  Opera  (Matriti,  1780),  vol.  ii.  p.  539.) 

sine  suspicione    mentit    imminvtft;    itaque  The  author,  who  was  in  the  court  at  the  time, 

constat  novem  mensibus  nulli  nee  libello  nee  had  frequent  access  to  the  royal  presence,  and 

diplomat!  subscripslsse,  quod  cum  niagno  in-  speaks,  therefore,  from  personal  observation. 


CEREMONY  OF  ABDICATION.  5 

Burgundy.  In  front  of  the  scaffolding,  accommodations  were  provided  for 
the  deputies  of  the  provinces,  who  were  to  be  seated  on  benches  arranged 
according  to  then:  respective  rights  of  precedence.2 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  October,  the  day  fixed  for  the  ceremony,  Charles  the 
Fifth  executed  an  instrument  by  which  he  ceded  to  his  son  the  sovereignty 
of  the  Netherlands.3  Mass  was  then  performed;  and  the  emperor,  accom- 
panied by  Philip  and  a  numerous  retinue,  proceeded  in  state  to  the  great 
hall,  where  the  deputies  were  already  assembled.4 

Charles  was  at  this  time  in  the  fifty-sixth  year  of  his  age.  His  form  was 
slightly  bent, — but  it  was  by  disease  more  than  by  time, — and  on  his  coun- 
tenance might  be  traced  the  marks  of  anxiety  and  rough  exposure.  Yet  it 
still  wore  that  majesty  of  expression  so  conspicuous  in  his  portraits  by  the 
inimitable  pencil  of  Titian.  His  hair,  once  of  a  light  colour,  approaching  to 
yellow,  had  begun  to  turn  before  he  was  forty,  and,  as  well  as  his  beard,  was 
now  gray.  His  forehead  was  broad  and  expansive  ;  his  nose  aquiline.  His 
blue  eyes  and  fair  complexion  intimated  his  Teutonic  descent.  The  only 
feature  in  his  countenance  decidedly  bad  was  his  lower  jaw,  protruding  with 
its  thick,  heavy  lip,  so  characteristic  of  the  physiognomies  of  the  Austrian 
dynasty.* 

In  stature  he  was  about  the  middle  height.  His  limbs  were  strongly  knit, 
and  once  well  formed,  though  now  the  extremities  were  sadly  distorted  by 
disease.  The  emperor  leaned  for  support  on  a  staff  with  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  he  rested  on  the  arm  of  William  of  Orange,  who,  then  young,  was 
destined  at  a  later  day  to  become  the  most  formidable  enemy  of  his  house. 
The  grave  demeanour  of  Charles  was  rendered  still  more  impressive  by  his 
dress ;  for  he  was  in  mourning  for  his  mother ;  and  the  sable  hue  of  his  attire 
was  relieved  only  by  a  single  ornament,  the  superb  collar  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 
which  hung  from  his  neck. 

Behind  the  emperor  came  Philip,  the  heir  of  his  vast  dominions.  He  was 
of  a  middle  height,  of  much  the  same  proportions  as  his  father,  whom  he 
resembled  also  in  his  lineaments,  except  that  those  of  the  son  wore  a  more 
sombre  and  perhaps  a  sinister  expression  ;  while  there  was  a  reserve  in  his 
manner,  in  spite  of  his  eftorts  to  the  contrary,  as  if  he  would  shroud  his 
thoughts  from  observation.  The  magnificence  of  his  dress  corresponded 
with  his  royal  station,  and  formed  a  contrast  to  that  of  his  father,  who 
was  quitting  the  pomp  and  grandeur  of  the  world,  on  which  the  son  was  about 
to  enter. 

Next  to  Philip  came  Mary,  the  emperor's  sister,  formerly  queen  of  Hungary. 

*  A  minute  account  of  this  imposing  cere-        1843).  torn.  iv.  p.  486. 

mony  IB  to  be  found  in  a  MS.  in  the  Archives  •  It  is  strange  that  the  precise  date  of  an 

of  Simancas,  now  published  in  the  Coleccion  event  of  such  notoriety  as  the  abdication  of 

de  iKx  umentos  Ineditos  para  la   Historia  de  Charles  the  Fifth  should  be  a  matter  of  dis- 

K-ipiifm  (Madrid,  1S4S),  torn.  vli.  p.  534  et  seq.  crepancy  among  historians.     Most  writer*  of 

An  official  report  of  the  proceedings,  prepared  the  time  assign  the  date  mentioned  in  the 

by  order  of  the  government,  and  preserved  at  text,  confirmed  moreover  by  the  Simancas 

Brussels,  In  the  Archives  du  Koyaume,  has  MS.  above  cited,  the  author  of  which  rut  is 

b>  en  published  by  M.Oachard  in  his  valuable  Into  the  details  of  the  ceremony   with  the 

collection,  Anulectes  Belgiques  (Paris,  1830),  minuteness  of  an  eye-witness, 

pp.  75-81.  *  "  Kr.it  Carol us  statura  mediocrl,  sed  bra- 

*  A  copy  of  the  original  deed  of  abdication  child,  et  cruribus  craxsis  compactisque,  et  ro- 
was  preserved  among  the  papers  of  Cardinal  boris  singularis,  ceteris  meinbris  proportione 
Granvelle,  at  Besancon,  and  IN  Incorporated  in  magnoque  commensu  rospondentibus,  colore 
the  valuable  collection  of  documents  published  albus,  crine  barbaque  ad  flavum  inclinante  ; 
by  order  of  the  French  government  under  the  facie  lil>erall,  nisi  quod  mentum  pruminrns 
direction  of  the  learned  VVeifw.  I'.i  piers  il'fitat  et    parum   coua»rentia    labra    nonnihil    earn 
du  Cardinal  de  Granvelle,  d'apres  IPS  Manu-  deturpobant."     Scpulvedaj  Opera,  vol.  11.  p. 
scrits  de  la  Blbliotheque  de  Bcsansuu  (Paris,  627. 


6  ABDICATION  OP  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

She  had  filled  the  post  of  Regent  of  the  Low  Countries  for  nearly  twenty 
years,  and  now  welcomed  the  nour  when  she  was  to  resign  the  burden  of 
sovereignty  to  her  nephew,  and  withdraw,  like  her  imperial  brother,  into 
private  life.  Another  sister  of  Charles,  Eleanor,  .widow  of  the  French  king 
Francis  the  First,  also  took  part  in  these  ceremonies,  previous  to  her  depar- 
ture for  Spain,  whither  she  was  to  accompany  the  emperor. 

After  these  members  of  the  imperial  family  came  the  nobility  of  the  Nether- 
lands, the  knights  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  the  royal  counsellors,  and  the  great 
officers  of  the  household,  all  splendidly  attired  in  their  robes  of  state  and 
proudly  displaying  the  insignia  of  their  orders.  When  the  emperor  had 
mounted  his  throne,  with  Philip  on  his  right  hand,  the  Regent  Mary  on  his 
left,  and  the  rest  of  his  retinue  disposed  along  the  seats  prepared  for  them  on 
the  platform,  the  president  of  the  council  of  Flanders  addressed  the  assembly. 
He  briefly  explained  the  object  for  which  they  had  been  summoned,  and  the 
motives  which  had  induced  their  master  to  abdicate  the  throne ;  and  he  con- 
cluded by  requiring  them,  in  their  sovereign's  name,  to  transfer  their  alle- 
giance from  himself  to  Philip,  his  son  and  rightful  heir. 

After  a  pause,  Charles  rose  to  address  a  few  parting  words  to  his  subjects. 
He  stood  with  apparent  difficulty,  and  rested  his  right  hand  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  prince  of  Orange,— intimating  by  this  preference  on  so  distinguished  an 
occasion  the  high  favour  in  which  he  held  the  young  nobleman.  In  the  other 
hand  he  held  a  paper,  containing  some  hints  for  his  discourse,  and  occa- 
sionally cast  his  eyes  on  it,  to  refresh  his  memory.  He  spoke  in  the  French 
language. 

He  was  unwilling,  he  said,  to  part  from  his  people  without  a  few  words  from 
his  own  lips.  It  was  now  forty  years  since  he  had  been  intrusted  with  the 
sceptre  of  the  Netherlands.  He  was  soon  after  called  to  take  charge  of  a  still 
more  extensive  empire,  both  in  Spain  and  in  Germany,  involving  a  heavy 
responsibility  for  one  so  young.  He  had,  however,  endeavoured  earnestly  to 
do  his  duty  to  the  best  of  his  abilities.  He  had  been  ever  mindful  of  the 
interests  of  the  dear  land  of  his  birth,  but,  above  all,  of  the  great  interests  of 
Christianity.  His  first  object  had  been  to  maintain  these  inviolate  against 
the  infidel.  In  this  he  had  been  thwarted,  partly  by  the  jealousy  of  neigh- 
bouring powers,  and  partly  by  the  factions  01  the  heretical  princes  of 
Germany. 

In  the  performance  of  his  great  work,  he  had  never  consulted  his  ease.  His 
expeditions,  in  war  and  in  peace,  to  France,  England,  Germany,  Italy,  Spain, 
and  Flanders,  had  amounted  to  no  less  than  forty.  Four  times  he  had  crossed 
the  Spanish  seas,  and  eight  times  the  Mediterranean.  He  had  shrunk  from 
no  toil,  while  he  had  the  strength  to  endure  it.  But  a  cruel  malady  had 
deprived  him  of  that  strength.  Conscious  of  his  inability  to  discharge  the 
duties  of  his  station,  he  had  long  since  come  to  the  resolution  to  relinquish  it. 
From  this  he  had  been  diverted  only  by  the  situation  of  his  unfortunate  parent 
and  by  the  inexperience  of  his  son.  These  objections  no  longer  existed ;  and 
he  should  not  stand  excused,  in  the  eye  of  Heaven  or  of  the  world,  if  he 
should  insist  on  still  holding  the  reins  of  government  when  he  was  incapable 
of  managing  them, — when  every  year  his  incapacity  must  become  more 
obvious. 

He  begged  them  to  believe  that  this  and  no  other  motive  induced  him  to 
resign  the  sceptre  which  he  had  so  long  swayed.  They  had  been  to  him  dutiful 
and  loving  subjects ;  and  such,  he  doubtea  not,  they  would  prove  to  his  suc- 
cessor. Above  all  things,  he  besought  them  to  maintain  the  purity  of  the 
faith.  If  any  one,  in  these  licentious  times,  had  admitted  doubts  into  his 


CEREMONY  OF  ABDICATION.  7 

bosom,  let  such  doubts  be  extirpated  at  once.  "  1  know  well,"  he  concluded, 
"  that,  in  my  long  administration,  I  have  fallen  into  many  errors  and  committed 
some  wrongs.  But  it  was  from  ignorance  ;  and,  if  there  be  any  here  whom  i 
have  wronged,  they  will  believe  that  it  was  not  intended,  and  grant  me  their 
forgiveness."  • 

While  the  emperor  was  speaking,  a  breathless  silence  pervaded  the  whole 
audience.  Charles  had  ever  been  dear  to  the  people  of  the  Netherlands, — the 
land  of  his  birth.  They  took  a  national  pride  in  his  achievements,  and  felt 
that  his  glory  reflected  a  peculiar  lustre  on  themselves.  As  they  now  gazed 
for  the  last  time  on  that  revered  form,  and  listened  to  the  parting  admonitions 
from  his  lips,  they  were  deeply  affected,  and  not  a  dry  eye  was  to  be  seen  in 
the  assembly. 

After  a  short  interval,  Charles,  turning  to  Philip,  who,  in  an  attitude  of 
deep  respect,  stood  awaiting  his  commands,  thus  addressed  him :  "  If  the  vast 
possessions  which  are  now  bestowed  on  you  had  come  by  inheritance,  there 
would  be  abundant  cause  for  gratitude.  How  much  more,  when  they  come  as 
a  free  gift,  in  the  lifetime  of  your  father !  But,  however  large  the  debt,  I 
shall  consider  it  all  repaid,  if  you  only  discharge  your  duty  to  your  sub- 
jects. So  rule  over  them  that  men  shall  commend  and  not  censure  me  for  the 
part  I  am  now  acting.  Go  on  as  you  have  begun.  Fear  God ;  live  justly  ; 
respect  the  laws ;  above  all,  cherish  the  interests  of  religion ;  and  may  the 
Almighty  bless  you  with  a  son  to  whom,  when  old  and  stricken  with  disease, 
you  may  be  able  to  resign  your  kingdom  with  the  same  good  will  with  which  I 
now  resign  mine  to  you/' 

As  he  ceased,  Philip,  much  affected,  would  have  thrown  himself  at  his 
father's  feet,  assuring  him  of  his  intention  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  merit  such 
goodness ;  but  Charles,  raising  his  son,  tenderly  embraced  him,  while  the 
tears  flowed  fast  down  his  cheeks.  Every  one,  even  the  most  stoical,  was 
touched  by  this  affecting  scene ;  "  and  nothing,"  says  one  who  was  present, 
"  was  to  be  heard  throughout  the  hall  but  sobs  and  ill-suppressed  moans." 
Charles,  exhausted  by  his  efforts,  and  deadly  pale,  sank  back  upon  his  seat ; 
while,  with  feeble  accents,  he  exclaimed,  as  he  gazed  on  his  people, "  God  bless 
you  !  God  bless  you  ! " 7 

After  these  emotions  had  somewhat  subsided,  Philip  arose,  and,  delivering 
himself  in  French,  briefly  told  the  deputies  of  the  regret  which  he  felt  at  not 
being  able  to  address  them  in  their  native  language,  and  to  assure  them  of  the 
favour  and  high  regard  in  which  he  held  them.  This  would  be  done  for  him 
by  the  bishop  of  Arras. 

•  The  speech  Is  given,  with  sufficient  con-  y  Figueroa,  Epitome  de  la  Vida  y  Hechos  del 

fortuity,  by  two  of  the  {tenons  who  heard  it,  invlcto  Emperador  Carlos    Quinto   (Madrid, 

— a  Flemish  writer,  whom  MS.,  preserved  in  1649),  pp.   119.   120. — Sir  John   Mason  thus 

the  Archives  du  Koyaume,  has  lately  been  describes  the  affecting  scene :  "  And  here  he 

published  by  Oacbard.  in  the  Analectes  Belgl-  broke  into  a  weeping,  whereunto,  besides  the 
i|ii'"i  (p.  »7),  and  Sir  John  Mason,  the  British  •  dolefulness  of  the  matter,  I  think  he  was 

minister  at  the  court  of  Charles,  who  de-  much  provoked  by  seeing  the  whole  company 

scribes  the  whole  ceremony  In  a  comtnunica-  to  do  the  like  before,  being,  in  mine  opinion, 

tiou  to   Inn  government  (The  Order  of  the  not  one  man  In  the  whole  assembly,  stranger 

Cession  of  the  Low  Countries  to  the  King's  or  other,  that  during  the  time  of  a  good  piece 

Majesty,  MS.).    The  historian  Sandoval  also  of  his  oration  poured  not  out  abundantly  tears, 

gives    a  full  report   of   the  speech,  on  the  some  more,  borne  less.    And  yet  be  prayed 

authority  of  one  who  heard  it.     Historla  de  la  the  in  to  bear  with  his  Imperfection,  proceeding 

Vida  y  Hechoedel  Emperador Carlos  V.  (Am-  of  sickly  age,  and  of  the  mentioning  of  so 

b  res.  1681),  torn.  it.  p.  689.  tender  a  matter  as  the  departing  from  xurli  a 

S.indoval,  Hist,  dc  Carlos  V.,  torn.  II.  pp.  sort  of  dear  and  must  loving  subjects."    The 

BIT  5!t'.i.-I,etl,  Vita  del  Catoilco  He  Fillppo  Order  of  tin-  Cession  of  the  Low  Countries  to 

11.  (Colignl.  it»7'J),  torn.  i.  pp.  240-242.— Y  era  the  King's  Majesty,  MS. 


8  ABDICATION  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

This  was  Antony  Perennot,  better  known  as  Cardinal  Granvelle,  son  of  the 
famous  minister  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  destined  himself  to  a  still  higher 
celebrity  as  the  minister  of  Philip  the  Second.  In  clear  and  fluent  language, 
he  gave  the  deputies  the  promise  of  their  new  sovereign  to  respect  the  laws 
and  liberties  of  the  nation ;  invoking  them,  on  his  benalf,  to  aid  him  with 
their  counsels,  and,  like  loyal  vassals,  to  maintain  the  authority  of  the  law  in 
his  dominions.  After  a  suitable  response  from  the  deputies,  filled  with  senti- 
ments of  regret  for  the  loss  of  their  late  monarch  and  with  those  of  loyalty  to 
their  new  one,  the  Regent  Mary  formally  abdicated  her  authority,  and 'the 
session  closed.  So  ended  a  ceremony  which,  considering  the  importance  of  its 
consequences,  the  character  of  the  actors,  and  the  solemnity  of  the  proceed- 
ings, is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  in  history.  That  the  crown  of  the  monarch 
is  lined  with  thorns,  is  a  trite  maxim ;  and  it  requires  no  philosophy  to  teach 
us  that  happiness  does  not  depend  on  station.  Yet,  numerous  as  are  the 
instances  of  those  who  have  waded  to  a  throne  through  seas  of  blood,  there 
are  but  few  who,  when  they  have  once  tasted  the  sweets  of  sovereignty,  have 
been  content  to  resign  them  ;  still  fewer  Avho,  when  they  have  done  so,  have 
had  the  philosophy  to  conform  to  their  change  of  condition  and  not  to  repent 
it.  Charles,  as  the  event  proved,  was  one  of  these  few. 

On  the  sixteenth  day  of  January,  1556,  in  the  presence  of  such  of  the  Spanish 
nobility  as  were  at  the  court,  he  executed  the  deeds  by  which  he  ceded  the 
sovereignty  of  Castile  and  Aragon,  with  their  dependencies,  to  Philip.8 

The  last  act  that  remained  for  him  to  perform  was  to  resign  the  crown  of 
Germany  in  favour  of  his  brother  Ferdinand.  But  this  he  consented  to  defer 
for  some  time  longer,  at  the  request  of  Ferdinand  himself,  who  wished  to 
prepare  the  minds  of  the  electoral  college  for  this  unexpected  transfer  of  the 
imperial  sceptre.  But,  while  Charles  consented  to  retain  for  the  present  the 
title  of  Emperor,  the  real  power  and  the  burden  of  sovereignty  would  remain 
with  Ferdinand.9 

At  the  time  of  abdicating  the  throne  of  the  Netherlands,  Charles  was  still  at 
war  with  France.  He  had  endeavoured  to  negotiate  a  permanent  peace  with 
that  country ;  and,  although  he  failed  in  this,  he  had  the  satisfaction,  on  the 
fifth  of  February,  1556,  to  arrange  a  truce  for  five  years,  which  left  both  powers 
in  the  possession  of  their  respective  conquests.  In  the  existing  state  of  these 
conquests,  the  truce  was  by  no  means  favourable  to  Spain.  But  Charles  would 
have  made  even  larger  concessions,  rather  than  leave  the  legacy  of  a  war  to 
his  less  experienced  successor. 

Having  thus  completed  all  his  arrangements,  by  which  the  most  powerful 
prince  of  Europe  descended  to  the  rank  of  a  private  gentleman,  Charles  had 
no  longer  reason  to  defer  his  departure,  and  he  proceeded  to  the  place  of 
embarkation.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  train  of  Flemish  courtiers,  and  by 
the  foreign  ambassadors,  to  the  latter  of  whom  he  warmly  commended  the 
interests  of  his  son.  A  fleet  of  fifty-six  sail  was  riding  at  anchor  in  the  port 
of  Flushing,  ready  to  transport  him  and  his  retinue  to  Spain.  From  the 
imperial  household,  consisting  of  seven  hundred  and  sixty-two  persons,  he 

•  The  date  of  this  renunciation  is  also  a  vhich,  as  King  of  the  Romans,  he  had  to  the 
subject  of  disagreement  among  contemporary  empire.     This   negotiation   fulled,   as  might 
historians,   although    it  would   seem    to  be  have    been  expected.       Ferdinand   was  not 
settled  by  the  date  of  the  instrument  itself,  weary  of  the  world ;  and  Charles  could  offer 
which  is  published  by  Sandoval,  in  his  Hist.  no  bribe  large  enough  to  buy  oif  an  empire, 
de  Carlos  V.,  torn.  ii.  pp.  603-606.  See  the  account  given  by  Marillac,  ap.  Hau- 

*  Lanz,  Corrrspondenz  des  Kaisers  Karl  V.,  mer,  Sixteenth    and    Seventeenth  Centuries 
n.  iii.  s.  708. — Five  years  before  this  period  (London,  1835,  Eng.  trails.),  vol.  1.  p.  28  et 
Charles  had  endeavoured  to  persuade  Ferdl-  seq.    . 

nand  to  relinquish  to  Philip  the  pretensions 


HIS  RETURN  TO  SPAIN.  9 

selected  a  hundred  and  fifty  as  his  escort ;  and  accompanied  by  his  sisters, 
after  taking  an  affectionate  farewell  of  Philip,  whose  affairs  detained  him  in 
Flanders,  on  the  seventeenth  of  September  he  sailed  from  the  harbour  of 
Flushing. 

The  passage  was  a  boisterous  one  ;  and  Charles,  who  suffered  greatly  from 
his  old  enemy  the  gout,  landed,  in  a  feeble  state,  at  Laredo,  in  Biscay,  on  the 
twenty-eighth  of  the  month.  Scarcely  had  he  left  the  vessel  when  a  storm  fell 
with  fury  on  the  fleet  and  did  some  mischief  to  the  shipping  in  the  harbour. 
The  pious  Spaniard  saw  in  this  the  finger  of  Providence,  which  had  allowed 
no  harm  to  the  squadron  till  its  royal  freight  had  been  brought  safely  to  the 
shore.10 

On  landing,  Charles  complained,  and  with  some  reason,  of  the  scanty  pre- 
parations that  had  been  made  for  him.  Philip  had  written  several  times  to 
his  sister,  the  regent,  ordering  her  to  have  everything  ready  for  the  emperor 
on  his  arrival11  Joanna  had  accordingly  issued  her  orders  to  that  effect.  But 
promptness  and  punctuality  are  not  virtues  of  the  Spaniard.  Some  apology 
may  be  found  for  their  deficiency  in  the  present  instance  ;  as  Charles  himself 
had  so  often  postponed  his  departure  from  the  Low  Countries  that,  when  he 
did  come,  the  people  were,  in  a  manner,  taken  by  surprise.  That  the  neglect 
was  not  intentional  is  evident  from  their  subsequent  conduct.12 

Charles,  whose  weakness  compelled  him  to  be  borne  in  a  litter,  was  greeted 
everywhere  on  the  road  like  a  sovereign  returning  to  his  dominions.  At 
Burgos,  which  he  entered  amidst  the  ringing  of  bells  and  a  general  illumination 
of  the  town,  he  passed  three  days,  experiencing  the  hospitalities  of  the  great 
constable,  and  receiving  the  homage  of  the  northern  lords,  as  well  as  of  the 
people,  who  thronged  the  route  by  which  he  was  to  pass.  At  Torquemada, 
among  those  who  came  to  pay  their  respects  to  their  former  master  was  Gasca, 
the  good  president  of  Peru.  He  had  been  sent  to  America  to  suppress  the 
insurrection  of  Gonzalo  Pizarro  and  restore  tranquillity  to  the  country.  In 
the  execution  of  this  delicate  mission  he  succeeded  so  well  that  the  emperor, 
on  his  return,  had  raised  him  to  the  see  of  Plasencia ;  and  the  excellent  man 
now  lived  in  his  diocese,  where,  in  the  peaceful  discharge  of  his  episcopal 
functions,  he  probably  enjoyed  far  greater  contentment  than  he  could  have 
derived  from  the  dazzling  but  difficult  post  of  an  American  viceroy. 

From  Torquemada,  Charles  slowly  proceeded  to  Valladolid,  where  his 
da-ighter,  the  Regent  Joanna,  was  then  holding  her  court.  Preparations  were 
made  for  receiving  him  in  a  manner  suited  to  his  former  rank.  But  Charles 
positively  declined  these  honours,  reserving  them  for  his  two  sisters,  the  queens 
of  France  and  Hungary,  who  accordingly  made  their  entrance  into  the  capital 
in  great  state,  on  the  day  following  that  on  which  their  royal  brother  had 
entered  it  with  the  simplicity  of  a  private  citizen. 

'•  "Favor sin  dud.i del Cielo," nays  Sandoval,  rio  de  Yu«te\  which  forms  the  l>asis  of  Mig- 

wlio  gives  quite  a  miraculous  air  to  the  event  net's  interesting  account  of  Cuarles  the  Fifth. 

liy  elding  that  the  emperor's  vpwwl  encuiin-  '-'  Among  other  disappointments  was  that 

U>red  the  brunt  of  the  storm  and  foundered  in  of  not  receiving  four  thousand  ducats  which 

port.  (Hist,  de  Carton  V.  loin.  li.  p.  6J7.)  Joanna  had  ordered  to  be  placed  at  the  em- 

H.it  this  and  some  other  particulars  told  by  peror's  dixponltion  on  his  landing.  This 

the  lilstorlin  of  Charles's  landing,  tin 'on-  apj«ears  from  a  letter  of  the  emperor's  wre- 

lirmed  as  they  are  by  a  single  eye-*  Hunts,  tary,  Gaztelu.  to  Vazquez  de  Molina,  October 

may  be  reckoned  among  the  myths  of  the  6th,  15&6:  "El  emperudor  tovo  por  ciertoque 

voyage.  llegado  aqul,  hallaria  los  cuatro  mil  durados 

"  The  last  of  Philip's  letters,  dated  S-p-  que  el  rey  IP  <lijo  hubiu  mandalo  prove>-r,  y 

tember  8th,  is  given  entire  in  the  MS.  of  Don  visto  que  no  «e  ha  hecho,  m-  ha  round  ido  lo 

Tomas  Gonzales  (Ketiro,  EsUncIa,  y  Muerte  eochbiese  lucgo  il  Vuestra  M.Tccd,  para  qnu 

del  Kuiperjdor  Carlos  Quiuto  en  el  Mutiaste-  ae  haya,  {torque  sou  titucho  nieuestcr."  MS. 


10  ABDICATION  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

He  remained  here  some  days,  in  order  to  recover  from  the  fatigue  of  his 
journey  ;  and,  although  he  took  no  part  in  the  festivities  of  the  court,  he  gave 
audience  to  his  ancient  ministers,  and  to  such  of  the  Castilian  grandees  as  were 
eager  to  render  him  their  obeisance.  At  the  court  he  had  also  the  opportunity 
of  seeing  his  grandson  Carlos,  the  heir  of  the  monarchy  ;  and  his  quick  eye,  it 
i;  said,  in  this  short  time  saw  enough  in  the  prince's  deportment  to  fill  him 
with  ominous  forebodings. 

Charles  prolonged  his  stay  fourteen  days  in  Valladolid,  during  which  time 
his  health  was  much  benefited  by  the  purity  and  the  dryness  of  the  atmo- 
sphere. On  his  departure,  his  royal  sisters  would  have  borne  him  company, 
and  even  have  fixed  their  permanent  residence  near  his  own.  But  to  this  he 
would  not  consent ;  and,  taking  a  tender  farewell  of  every  member  of  his 
family, — as  one  who  was  never  to  behold  them  again, — he  resumed  his  journey. 
He  took  with  him  a  number  of  followers,  mostly  menials,  to  wait  on  his 
person. 

The  place  he  had  chosen  for  his  retreat  was  the  monastery  of  Yuste,  in  the 
province  of  Estremadura,  not  many  miles  from  Plasencia.  On  his  way  thither 
he  halted  near  three  months  at  Jarandilla,  the  residence  of  the  count  of 
Oropesa,  waiting  there  for  the  completion  of  some  repairs  that  were  going  on 
in  the  monastery,  as  well  as  for  the  remittance  of  a  considerable  sum  of 
money,  which  he  was  daily  expecting.  This  he  required  chiefly  to  discharge 
the  arrears  due  to  some  of  his  old  retainers  ;  and  the  failure  of  the  remittance 
has  brought  some  obloquy  on  Philip,  who  could  so  soon  show  himself  un- 
mindful of  his  obligations  to  his  father.  But  the  blame  should  rather  be 
charged  on  Philip's  ministers  than  on  Philip,  absent  as  he  was  at  that  time 
from  the  country,  and  incapable  of  taking  personal  cognizance  of  the  matter. 
Punctuality  in  his  pecuniary  engagements  was  a  virtue  to  which  neither 
Charles  nor  Philip — the  masters  of  the  Indies— ^could  at  any  time  lay  claim. 
But  the  imputation  of  parsimony,  or  even  indifference,  on  the  part  of  the 
latter,  in  his  relations  with  his  father,  is  fully  disproved  by  the  subsequent 
history  of  that  monarch  at  the  convent  of  Yuste.13 

This  place  had  attracted  his  eye  many  years  before,  when  on  a  visit  to  that 
part  of  the  country,  and  he  had  marked  it  for  his  future  residence.  The 
convent  was  tenanted  by  monks  of  the  strictest  order  of  Saint  Jerome.  But, 
however  strict  in  their  monastic  rule,  the  good  fathers  showed  much  taste  in 
the  selection  of  their  ground,  as  well  as  in  the  embellishment  of  it.  It  lay  in 
a  wild,  romantic  country,  embosomed  among  hills  that  stretch  along  the 
northern  confines  of  Estremadura.  The  building,  which  was  of  great  an- 
tiquity, had  been  surrounded  by  its  inmates  with  cultivated  gardens,  and  with 
groves  of  orange,  lemon,  and  myrtle,  whose  fragrance  was  tempered  by  the 
refreshing  coolness  of  the  waters  that  gushed  forth  in  abundance  from  the 

'*  Sandoval  makes  no  allusion  to  the  affair,  '  rassments  under  which  the  emperor  laboured 

whi.-h   rests    on  the    r  port  of   Strada   (De  from  want  of  funds.     His  exchequer  was  so 

IJello  Belgico(Antv-rpiip,  1640),  torn.  i.  p.  12)  low,  indeed,  that  on  one  occasion    he   was 

and  of  Cabrera, — the   latter,  as  one  of  the  obliged  to  borrow  a  hundred  reals  for  his 

royal  household   and  the  historiographer  of  ordinary    expenses    from    his    major-domo: 

Castile,  by   far   the   best  authority.     In  th«  "  lx>s  ultimos  dos  mil  ducados  que  trnjo  el 

narration  he  does  not  spare  his  muster :  "  Kn  criado  de  Hernando  Ochoa  se  han  acabo.  por- 

Jarandillaameno  lugardel  Conds  de  Oropesu,  que  cuando  llegiJron,  se  debian  ya  la  mitad, 

i  Kpero  treinta  dia«  treinta  mil  e.-cudos  con  de  manera  que  no  tenemos  un  real  para  el 

quj  pagar  y  dispedir  sus  criados  que  llegaron  gasto  ordinurio,    que  para  socorrer  hoy  he 

c  MI  tarda  provision  y  mano:  terrible  tenta-  dado  yo  cien  reales,  ni  se  sabe  de  donde  baber- 

ciou  para   no  dur  todo  su  aver  antes  de  la  lo."    Curta  de  Luis  Quixnda  il  Juan  Vazquez, 

niuerte."      Filipe  Segundo  Key  de    Espafia  ap.  Gachard.  Retraite  et   Mort  de  Charles- 

(Madrid,  1619),  lib.  ii.  cap.  11.— The  letters  Quint  (Bruxelles,  1554),  torn.  i.  p.  76. 
from  Jarandilla  ut  this  time  show  the  embar- 


BIRTH  OF  PHILIP  THE  SECOND.  11 

rocky  sides  of  the  hills.  It  was  a  delicious  retreat,  and,  by  its  calm  seclusion 
and  the  character  of  its  scenery,  was  well  suited  to  withdraw  the  mind  from 
the  turmoil  of  the  world  and  dispose  it  to  serious  meditation.  Here  the 
monarch,  after  a  life  of  restless  ambition,  proposed  to  spend  the  brief  remainder 
of  his  days  and  dedicate  it  to  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  He  could  not,  how- 
ever, as  the  event  proved,  close  his  heart  against  all  sympathy  with  mankind, 
nor  refuse  to  take  some  part  in  the  great  questions  which  then  agitated  the 
world  Charles  was  not  master  of  that  ignoble  philosophy  which  enabled 
Diocletian  to  turn  with  contentment  from  the  cares  of  an  empire  to  those  of 
a  cabbage-garden.  In  this  retirement  we  must  now  leave  the  royal  recluse, 
while  we  follow  the  opening  career  of  the  prince  whose  reign  is  the  subject  of 
the  present  history. 


CHAPTER  II. 

EARLY   DATS  OP   PHILIP. 

Birth  of  Philip  the  Second— His  Education— Intrust^  with  the  Regency— Marries  Mary  of 
Portugal — Visit  to  Flanders — Public  Festivities — Ambitious  Schemes — Returns  to  Spain. 

1527-1551. 

PHILIP  THE  SECOND  was  born  at  Valladolid,  on  the  twenty-first  of  May,  1527. 
His  mother  was  the  Empress  Isabella,  daughter  of  Emanuel  the  Great  of 
Portugal.  By  his  father  he  was  descended  from  the  ducal  houses  of  Burgundy 
end  Austria.  By  both  father  and  mother  he  claimed  a  descent  from  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella  the  Catholic  of  Spain.  As  by  blood  he  was  half  a  Spaniard,  so 
by  temperament  and  character  he  proved  to  be  wholly  so. 

The  ceremony  of  his  baptism  was  performed  with  all  due  solemnity,  by 
Tavera,  archbishop  of  Toledo,  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  June,  when  the  royal 
infant  received  the  name  of  Philip,  after  his  paternal  grandfather,  Philip  the 
Handsome,  whose  brief  reign— for  which  he  was  indebted  to  his  union  with 
Joanna,  queen-proprietor  of  Castile — has  hardly  secured  him  a  place  in  the 
line  of  Castilian  sovereigns. 

The  birth  of  a  son— the  heir  of  so  maffnifirent  an  empire — was  hailed_gith 
^dTTjj^ilJZjJiijvJJtiai-k'saiid  hytlitTw  hole  nation,  who  prepared  to  celebrate  it  in 
arstyle  worthyoTlhe  event,  when  ndings  reached  them  of  the  capture  of  Pope 
Clement  the  Seventh  and  the  sack  of  Rome  by  the  Spanish  troops  under  the 
constable  de  Bourbon.  The  news  of  this  event,  and  the  cruelties  inflicted  by 
the  conquerors,  filled  all  Europe  with  consternation.  Even  the  Protestants, 
who  had  no  superfluous  sympathy  to  sjwire  for  the  sufferings  of  the  pope, 
were  shocked  by  the  perpetration  of  atrocities  compared  with  which  the  con- 
duct of  Attila  and  Alaric  might  almost  be  deemed  merciful.  Whatever 
responsibility  may  attach  to  Charles  on  the  score  of  the  expedition,  it  would 
be  injustice  to  him  to  suppose  that  he  did  not  share  in  the  general  indignation 
at  the  manner  in  which  it  was  conducted.  At  all  events,  he  could  hardly 
venture  to  outrage  the  feelings  of  Christendom  so  far  as  to  take  the  present 
moment  for  one  of  public  rejoicing.  Orders  were  instantly  issued  to  abandon 
tin-  intended  festivities,  greatly  to  the  discontent  of  the  people,  whose  sympathy 
for  the  i  ope  did  not  by  any  means  incline  them  to  put  this  restraint  on  the 
expression  of  their  loyalty ;  and  they  drew  from  the  disappointment  an 


12  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

uncomfortable  augury  that  the  reign  of  the  young  prince  boded  no  good  to  the 
Catholic  religion.1 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  people  of  Castile  had  an  opportunity 
for  the  full  display  of  their  enthusiasm,  on  the  occasion  of  Philip's  recognition 
as  rightful  heir  to  the  crown.  The  ceremony  was  conducted  with  great  pomp 
and  splendour  in  the  cortes  at  Madrid,  on  the  nineteenth  of  April,  1528,  when 
he  was  but  eleven  months  old.  The  prince  was  borne  in  the  arms  of  his 
mother,  who,  with  the  emperor,  was  present  on  the  occasion  ;  while  the  nobles, 
the  clergy,  and  the  commons  took  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  royal  infant, 
as  successor  to  the  crown  of  Castile.  The  act  of  homage  was  no  sooner 
published  than  the  nation,  as  if  by  way  of  compensation  for  the  past,  aban- 
doned itself  to  a  general  jubilee.  Illuminations  and  bonfires  were  lighted  up 
in  all  the  towns  and  villages ;  while  everywhere  were  to  be  seen  dancing, 
bull-fights,  tilts  of  reeds,  ana  the  other  national  games  of  tliat  chivalrous  and 
romantic  land. 

Soon  after  this,  Charles  was  called  by  his  affairs  to  other  parts  of  his  far- 
extended  empire,  and  he  left  his  infant  son  to  the  care  of  a  Portuguese  lady, 
l>oiia  Leonor  Mascareiias,  or  rather  to  that  of  the  Empress  Isabella,  in  whose 
prudence  and  maternal  watchfulness  he  could  safely  confide.  On  the  emperor's 
return  to  Spain,  when  his  son  was  hardly  seven  years  old,  he  formed  for  him 
a  separate  establishment,  and  selected  two  persons  for  the  responsible  office  of 
superintending  his  education.1 

One  of  these  personages  was  Juan  Martinez  Siliceo,  at  that  time  professor 
in  the  College  of  Salamanca.  He  was  a  man  of  piety  and  learning,  of  an 
accommodating  temper, — too  accommodating,  it  appears  from  some  of  Charles's 
letters,  for  the  good  of  his  pupil,  though  not,  as  it  would  seem,  for  his  own 
good,  since  he  found  such  favour  with  the  prince  that,  from  an  humble 
ecclesiastic,  he  was  subsequently  preferred  to  the  highest  dignities  of  the 
Church. 

Under  him,  Philip  was  instructed  in  the  ancient  classics,  and  made  such 
progress  in  Latin  that  he  could  write  it,  and  did  write  it  frequently  in  after- 
life, with  ease  and  correctness.  He  studied,  also,  Italian  and  French.  He 
seems  to  have  had  little  knowledge  of  the  former,  but  French  he  could  speak 
indifferently  well,  though  he  was  rarely  inclined  to  venture  beyond  his  own 
tongue.  He  showed  a  more  decided  taste  for  science,  especially  the  mathe- 
matics. He  made  a  careful  study  of  the  principles  of  architecture  ;  and  the 
fruits  of  this  study  are  to  be  seen  in  some  of  the  noblest  monuments  erected 
in  that  flourishing  period  of  the  arts.  In  sculpture  and  painting  he  also 
made  some  proficiency,  and  became  in  later  life  no  contemptible  critic, — at 
least  for  a  sovereign. 

The  other  functionary  charged  with  Philip's  education  was  Don  Juan  de 

1  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  i.  cap.  1. —  p.  73. 

A'anderhammen,    Don    Felipe    el     Prudente  a  Leti,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  74. — 

(Madrid,  1625),  p.  1. — Ureve  <  'onipendio  de  la  Noticla  de   \<>s  Ayos  y  Maestros  de  Felipe 

Vida  privada  del    Rey  P.   Felipe    Segundo  Segundo  y  Carlos  su  Hijo,  MS. — "  Kt  passo  i 

atribuido  a  Pedro  Mateo  Coronista  mayor  del  primi  anni  et  la  niaggior  parte  dell'  eta  sua  in 

Reyno  de  Francia,  MS. — Leti,  Vita  di  Filippo  quel  regno,  onde  per  usanza  del  paese,  et  per 

II.,  torn.  i.  p.  69  et  seq.— "  Andauano  sussu-  la  volenta  della  madre  che  era  di  Portogallo 

rando  per  le  strade,  cauando  da  questa  proibi-  fu  allevato  con  quella  riputatione  et  con  quel 

tione  disolenuitapronosticidi  cattiviaugurii;  rispetio  che  parea  convenirei  ad  un  figliuolo 

gli  vni  diceuano,  ehe  questo  Prencipe  doupua  del   maggior  Imperatore  che  fosse    mai  fra 

esser  causa  di  grand!  afflittione  alia  Chiesa;  Christian!."    Relations  di  Spagna  del  Cava- 

gii  altri;  Che  cominciando  a  nascere  colle  Ifr-re   Michele  Soriano,  Ambasciatore  al  Ke 

tencbre,   non   poteua  portar  che  ombra  alia  Filipo,  MS. 
Spagua."    Leti,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  i. 


HIS  EDUCATION.  13 

Zuniga,  comendador  mayor  of  Castile.  He  taught  his  pupil  to  fence,  to  ride, 
to  take  his  part  at  the  tilts  and  tourneys,  and,  in  short,  to  excel  in  the 
chivalrous  exercises  familiar  to  cavaliers  of  his  time.  He  encouraged  Philip 
to  invigorate  his  constitution  by  the  hardy  pleasures  of  the  chase,  to  which, 
however,  he  was  but  little  addicted  as  he  advanced  in  years. 

But,  besides  these  personal  accomplishments,  no  one  was  better  qualified 
than  Zuniga  to  instruct  his  pupil  in  the  duties  belonging  to  his  royal  station. 
He  was  a  man  of  ancient  family,  and  had  passed  much  of  his  life  in  courts. 
But  he  had  none  of  the  duplicity  or  of  the  suppleness  which  often  marks  the 
character  of  the  courtier.  He  possessed  too  nigh  a  sentiment  of  honour  to 
allow  him  to  trifle  with  truth.  He  spoke  his  mind  plainly,  too  plainly  some- 
times for  the  taste  of  his  pupil.  Charles,  who  understood  the  character  of 
Zuniga,  wrote  to  his  son  to  honour  and  to  cherish  him.  "  If  he  deals  plainly 
with  you,"  he  said,  "it  is  for  the  love  he  bears  you.  If  he  were  to  flatter  you, 
and  be  only  solicitous  of  ministering  to  your  wishes,  he  would  be  like  all  the 
rest  of  the  world,  and  you  would  have  no  one  near  to  tell  you  the  truth  ;— and 
a  worse  thing  cannot  happen  to  any  man,  old  or  young ;  but  most  of  all  to 
the  young,  from  their  want  of  experience  to  discern  truth  from  error."  The 
wise  emperor,  who  knew  how  rarely  it  is  that  truth  is  permitted  to  find  its 
way  to  royal  ears,  set  a  just  value  on  the  man  who  had  the  courage  to 
speak  it.* 

Under  the  influence  of  these  teachers,  and  still  more  of  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  was  placed, — the  most  potent  teachers  of  all, — Philip  grew  in 
years,  and  slowly  unfolded  the  peculiar  qualities  of  his  disposition.  He  seemed 
cautious  and  reserved  in  his  demeanour,  and  slow  of  speech  ;  yet  what  he  said 
had  a  character  of  thought  beyond  his  age.  At  no  time  did  ne  discover  that 
buoyancy  of  spirit  or  was  he  betrayed  into  those  sallies  of  temper  which 
belong  to  a  bold  and  adventurous  and  often  to  a  generous  nature.  His 
deportment  was  marked  by  a  seriousness  that  to  some  might  seem  to  savour 
of  melancholy.  He  was  self-possessed,  so  that  even  as  a  boy  he  was  rarely 
off  his  guard.4 

The  emperor,  whose  affairs  called  him  away  from  Spain  much  the  greater 
part  of  his  time,  had  not  the  power  of  personally  superintending  the  education 
of  his  son.  Unfortunately  for  the  latter,  his  excellent  mother  died  when  he 
was  but  twelve  years  old  Charles,  who  loved  his  wife  as  much  as  a  man  is 
capable  of  loving  whose  soul  is  filled  with  schemes  of  boundless  ambition,  was 
at  Madrid  when  he  received  tidings  of  her  illness.  He  posted  in  all  haste  to 
Toledo,  where  the  queen  then  was,  but  arrived  there  only  in  time  to  embrace 
her  cold  remains  before  they  were  consigned  to  the  sepulchre.  The  desolate 
monarch  abandoned  himself  to  an  agony  of  grief,  and  was  with  difficulty  with- 
drawn from  the  apartment  by  his  attendants,  to  indulge  his  solitary  regrets 
in  the  neighbouring  monastery  of  La  Sisla. 

Isabella  well  deserved  to  be  mourned  by  her  husband.  She  was  a  woman, 
from  all  accounts,  possessed  of  many  high  and  generous  qualities.  Such  was 
her  fortitude  that  at  the  time  of  her  confinement  she  was  never  heard  to  utter 
a  groan.  She  seemed  to  think  any  demonstration  of  suffering  a  weakness, 
and  had  the  chamber  darkened  that  her  attendants  might  not  see  the  distress 
painted  on  her  countenance.*  With  this  constancy  of  spirit  she  united  many 

•  Calm-iM,  Filip*  Segxindo,  lib.  I.  cap.  1. —  Somlnarlo  crudito  (Madrid,  1783),  tom.  xiv. 

Letl,  Vita  dl   Kil.ppu   II.,  torn.  t.  p.  87.—  p.  156,  etseq. 

Noticia  de  IOH  A  you.  MS.—  Relation?  di  Mi-  *  Cabrera,  Filipp  Srgundo.  lib.  I.  cap.  1. 

chele  Soriano.  MS.— Rdatione  di  Frdertco  Ra-  •  Florez,  Metnoriaade  lag  Reynaa  Catholicas 

dotro,  M.S.— Charted'!.  letter,  of  which  I  have  (Madrid,  1770),  torn.  li.  p.  869. 
a  manuscript  copy,  baa  been  published  in  the 


14  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

feminine  virtues.  The  palace,  under  her  rule,  became  a  school  of  industry. 
Instead  of  wasting  her  leisure  hours  in  frivolous  pleasures,  she  might  be  seen 
busily  occupied,  with  her  maidens,  in  the  elegant  labours  of  the  loom  ;  and, 
like  her  ancestor,  the  good  Queen  Isabella  the  Catholic,  she  sent  more  than 
one  piece  of  tapestry,  worked  by  her  own  hands,  to  adorn  the  altars  of 
Jerusalem.  These  excellent  qualities  were  enhanced  by  manners  so  attractive 
that  her  effigy  was  struck  on  a  medal,  with  a  device  of  the  three  Graces  on  the 
reverse  side,  bearing  the  motto,  Has  habet  et  superat* 

Isabella  was  but  thirty-six  years  old  at  the  time  of  her  death.  Charles  was 
not  forty.  He  never  married  again.  Yet  the  bereavement  seems  to  have  had 
little  power  to  soften  his  nature,  or  incline  him  to  charity  for  the  misconduct 
or  compassion  for  the  misfortunes  of  others.  It  was  but  a  few  months  after 
the  death  of  his  wife  that,  on  occasion  of  the  insurrection  of  Ghent,  he  sought 
a  passage  through  the  territory  of  his  ancient  enemy  of  France,  descended  on 
the  offending  city,  and  took  such  vengeance  on  its  wretched  inhabitants  as 
made  all  Europe  ring  with  his  cruelty.7 

Philip  was  too  young  at  this  time  to  take  part  in  the  administration  of  the 
kingdom  during  his  father's  absence.  But  he  was  surrounded  by  able  states- 
men, who  familiarized  him  with  ideas  of  government,  by  admitting  him  to  see 
the  workings  of  the  machinery  which  he  was  one  day  to  direct.  Charles  was 
desirous  that  the  attention  of  his  son,  even  in  boyhood,  should  be  turned  to 
those  affairs  which  were  to  form  the  great  business  of  his  future  life.  It  seems 
even  thus  early— at  this  period  of  mental  depression — the  emperor  cherished 
the  plan  of  anticipating  the  natural  consequence  of  his  decease,  by  resigning 
his  dominions  into  the  hands  of  Philip  so  soon  as  he  should  be  qualified  to 
rule  them. 

No  event  occurred  to  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  Spain  during  the  emperor's 
absence  from  that  country,  to  which  he  returned  in  the  winter  of  1541.  It 
was  after  his  disastrous  expedition  against  Algiers, — the  most  disastrous  of 
any  that  he  had  yet  undertaken.  He  there  saw  his  navy  sunk  or  scattered 
by  the  tempest,  and  was  fortunate  in  finding  a  shelter,  with  its  shattered 
remnants,  in  the  port  of  Carthagena.  Soon  after  landing,  he  received  a  letter 
from  Philip,  condoling  with  him  on  his  losses,  and  striving  to  cheer  him  with 
the  reflection  that  they  had  been  caused  by  the  elements,  not  by  his  enemies. 
With  this  tone  of  philosophy  were  mingled  expressions  of  sympathy ;  and 
Charles  may  have  been  gratified  with  the  epistle, — if  he  could  believe  it  the 
composition  of  his  son.*  Philip  soon  after  this  made  a  journey  to  the  south  ; 
and  in  the  society  of  one  who  was  now  the  chief  object  of  his  affections  the 
einperor  may  have  found  the  best  consolation  in  his  misfortunes. 

The  French  had  availed  themselves  of  the  troubled  state  of  Charles's  affairs 
.to  make  a  descent  upon  Roussillon  ;  and  the  dauphin  now  lay  in  some  strength 
l>efore  the  gates  of  Perpignan.  The  emperor  considered  this  a  favourable 
moment  for  Philip  to  take  his  first  lesson  in  war.  The  prince  accordingly 
posted  to  Valladolid.  A  considerable  force  was  quickly  mustered ;  and  Philip, 
taking  the  command,  and  supported  by  some  or  the  most  experienced  of  his 
father's  generals,  descended  rapidly  towards  the  coast.  But  the  dauphin  did 
not  care  to  wait  for  his  approach  ;  and,  breaking  up  his  camp,  he  retreated, 
without  striking  a  blow,  in  all  haste,  across  the  mountains.  Philip  entered 
the  town  in  triumph,  and  soon  after  returned,  with  the  unstained  laurels  of 
victory,  to  receive  his  father's  congratulations.  The  promptness  of  his  move- 

•  Florez,  Memorias  de  las  Rpynas  Catho-  torn.  ii.  p.  285. 
Hcas,  torn.  ii.  p.  877.  •  The  letter  is  given  by  Cabrera,  Filipe 

7  "Tomo  la  post  a  vpstido  en   Into  come  Segundo,  lib.  i.  cap.  2. 
vindo,"  says  Sandoval,  Hist,  de  Carlos  Quinto, 


HIS  EDUCATION.  15 

ments  on  this  occasion  gained  him  credit  with  the  Spaniards  ;  and  the  fortu- 
nate result  seemed  to  furnish  a  favourable  augury  for  the  future. 

On  his  return,  the  prince  was  called  to  preside  over  the  cortes  at  Monzon, — 
a  central  town,  where  the  deputies  of  Aragon,  Catalonia,  and  Valencia  con- 
tinued to  assemble  separately,  long  after  those  provinces  had  been  united  to 
Castile.  Philip,  with  all  the  forms  prescribed  by  the  constitution,  received  the 
homage  of  the  representatives  assembled,  as  successor  to  the  crown  of  Aragon. 

The  war  with  France,  which,  after  a  temporary  suspension,  had  broken  out 
with  greater  violence  than  ever,  did  not  permit  the  emperor  long  to  protract 
his  stay  in  the  Peninsula.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  his  Spanish  subjects  that  he 
rarely  visited  them  except  when  his  exchequer  required  to  be  replenished  for 
carrying  on  his  restless  enterprises,  and  that  he  stayed  no  longer  than  was 
necessary  to  effect  this  object.  On  leaving  the  country,  he  intrusted  the 
regency  to  Philip,  under  the  general  direction  of  a  council  consisting  of  the 
duke  of  Alva,  Cardinal  Tavera,  and  the  Comendador  Cobos.  Some  time  after 
this,  while  still  lingering  in  Catalonia,  previous  to  his  embarkation,  Charles 
addressed  a  letter  to  his  son,  advising  mm  as  to  his  political  course,  and  freely 
criticising  the  characters  of  the  great  lords  associated  with  him  in  the  govern- 
ment. The  letter,  which  "is  altogether  a  remarkable  document,  contains  also 
some  wholesome  admonitions  on  Philip's  private  conduct.  "The  duke  of 
Alva,"  the  emperor  emphatically  wrote,  "  is  the  ablest  statesman  and  the  best 
soldier  I  have  in  my  dominions.  Consult  him,  above  all,  in  military  affairs  ; 
but  do  not  depend  on  him  entirely  in  these  or  in  any  other  matters.  Depend 
on  no  one  but  yourself.  The  grandees  will  be  too  happy  to  secure  your  favour, 
and  through  you  to  govern  the  land.  But  if  you  are  thus  governed  it  will  be 
your  ruin.  The  mere  suspicion  of  it  will  do  you  infinite  prejudice.  Make  use 
of  all ;  but  lean  exclusively  on  none.  In  your  perplexities,  ever  trust  in  your 
Maker.  Have  no  care  but  for  him."  The  emperor  then  passes  some  strictures 
on  the  Comendador  Cobos,  as  too  much  inclined  to  pleasure,  at  the  same  time 
admonishing  Philip  of  the  consequences  of  a  libertine  career,  fatal  alike,  he 
tells  him,  to  both  soul  and  body.  There  seems  to  have  been  some  ground  for 
this  admonition,  as  the  young  prince  had  shown  a  disposition  to  gallantry, 
which  did  not  desert  him  in  later  life.  "  Yet,  on  the  whole,"  says  the  monarch, 
"  I  will  admit  I  have  much  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  your  behaviour.  But 
I  would  have  you  perfect ;  and,  to  speak  frankly,  whatever  other  persons  may 
tell  you,  you  have  some  things  to  mend  yet.  Your  confessor,"  he  continues, 
"  is  now  your  old  preceptor,  the  bishop  of  Carthagena," — to  which  see  the 
worthy  professor  had  been  recently  raised.  "He  is  a  good  man,  as  all  the 
world  knows  ;  but  I  hope  he  will  take  better  care  of  your  conscience  than  he 
did  of  your  studies,  and  that  he  will  not  show  quite  so  accommodating  a  temper 
in  regard  to  the  former  as  he  did  with  the  latter." 9 

On  the  cover  of  this  curious  epistle  the  emperor  endorsed  a  direction  to  his 
son  to  show  it  to  no  living  person,  but  if  he  found  himself  ill  at  any  time,  to 
destroy  the  letter  or  seal  it  up  under  cover  to  him.  It  would,  indeed,  have 
edified  those  courtiers,  who  fancied  they  stood  highest  in  the  royal  favour,  to 
see  how  to  their  very  depths  their  characters  were  sounded,  and  how  clearly 
their  schemes  of  ambition  were  revealed  to  the  eye  of  their  master.  It  was 
this  admirable  perceptidn  of  character  which  enabled  Charles  so  generally  to 
select  the  right  agent  for  the  execution  of  his  plans  and  thus  to  insure  their 
success. 

•  Cabrera,  Flllpe  Segundo,  lib.  I.  cap.  2.—  299  et  »eq.— Breve  Compendlo,  MR.— Charles'* 
Lett,  Vita  dt  Flllppo  I!.,  torn.  I.  p.  133.—  letter,  In  the  Semlnario  erodlto,  torn.  xlv.  p. 
Sandoval.  Hint,  de  Carlos  Quinto,  torn  II.  p.  156. 


16  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

The  letter  from  Palamos  is  one  among  many  similar  proofs  of  the  care  with 
which,  even  from  a  distance,  Charles  watched  over  his  son's  course  and  endea- 
voured to  form  his  character.  The  experienced  navigator  would  furnish  a 
chart  to  the  youthful  pilot  by  which,  without  other  aid,  he  might  securely  steer 
through  seas  strange  and  unknown  to  him.  Yet  there  was  little  danger  in  the 
navigation,  at  this  period  ;  for  Spain  lay  in  a  profound  tranquillity,  unruffled 
by  a  breath  from  the  rude  tempest  that  in  other  parts  of  Europe  was  unsettling 
princes  on  their  thrones. 

A  change  was  now  to  take  place  in  Philip's  domestic  relations.  His  magni- 
ficent expectations  made  him,  in  the  opinion  of  the  world,  the  best  match  in 
Europe.  His  father  had  long  contemplated  the  event  of  his  son's  marrying. 
He  had  first  meditated  an  alliance  for  him  with  Margaret,  daughter  of  Francis 
the  First,  by  which  means  the  feud  with  his  ancient  rival  might  be  per- 
manently healed.  But  Philip's  inclination  was  turned  to  an  alliance  with 
Portugal.  This  latter  was  finally  adopted  by  Charles  ;  and  in  December,  1542, 
Philip  was  betrotlied  to  the  Infanta  Mary,  daughter  of  John  the  Third  and  of 
Catharine,  the  emperor's  sister.  She  was,  consequently,  cousin-german  to 
Philip.  At  the  same  time,  Joanna,  Charles's  youngest  daughter,  was  affianced 
to  the  eldest  son  of  John  the  Third,  and  heir  to  his  crown.  The  intermarriages 
of  the  royal  houses  of  Castile  and  Portugal  were  so  frequent  that  the  several 
members  stood  in  multiplied  and  most  perplexing  degrees  of  affinity  with  one 
another. 

Joanna  was  eight  years  younger  than  her  brother.  Charles  had  one  other 
child,  Mary,  born  the  year  after  Philip.  She  was  destined  to  a  more  splendid 
fortune  than  her  sister,  as  bride  of  the  future  emperor  of  Germany.  Since 
Philip  and  the  Portuguese  princess  were  now  both  more  than  sixteen  years  old, 
being  nearly  of  the  same  age,  it  was  resolved  that  their  marriage  should  no 
longer  be  deferred.  The  place  appointed  for  the  ceremony  was  the  ancient 
city  of  Salamanca. 

In  October,  1543,  the  Portuguese  infanta  quitted  her  father's  palace  in 
Lisbon  and  set  out  for  Castile.  She  was  attended  by  a  numerous  train  of 
nobles,  with  the  archbishop  of  Lisbon  at  their  head.  A  splendid  embassy  was 
sent  to  meet  her  on  the  borders  and  conduct  her  to  Salamanca.  At  its  head 
was  the  duke  of  Medina  Sidonia,  chief  of  the  Guzmans,  the  wealthiest  and 
most  powerful  lord  in  Andalusia.  He  had  fitted  up  his  palace  at  Badajoz  in 
the  most  costly  and  sumptuous  style,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  princess. 
The  hangings  were  of  cloth  of  gold ;  the  couches,  the  sideboards,  and  some  of 
the  other  furniture,  of  burnished  silver.  The  duke  himself  rode  in  a  superb 
litter,  and  the  mules  which  carried  it  were  shod  with  gold.  The  members  of 
his  household  and  his  retainers  swelled  to  the  number  of  three  thousand,  well 
mounted,  wearing  the  liveries  and  cognizance  of  their  master.  Among  them 
was  the  duke's  private  band,  including  several  natives  of  the  Indies, — then 
not  a  familiar  sight  in  Spain, — displaying  on  their  breasts  broad  silver  escut- 
cheons, on  which  were  emblazoned  the  arms  of  the  Guzmans.  The  chronicler 
is  diffuse  in  his  account  of  the  infanta's  reception,  from  which  a  few  par- 
ticulars may  be  selected  for  such  as  take  an  interest  in  the  Spanish  costume 
and  manners  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  infanta  was  five  months  younger  than  Philip.  She  was  of  the  middle 
size,  with  a  good  figure,  though  somewhat  inclined  to  embonpoint,  and  was 
distinguished  by  a  graceful  carriage  and  a  pleasing  expression  of  countenance. 
Her  dress  was  of  cloth  of  silver,  embroidered  with  flowers  of  gold.  She  wore  a 
capa,  or  Castilian  mantle,  of  violet- coloured  velvet,  figured  with  gold,  and  a 
hat  of  the  same  materials,  surmounted  by  a  white  and  azure  plume.  The 


MARRIES  MARY  OF  PORTUGAL.  17 

housings  of  the  mule  were  of  rich  brocade,  and  Mary  rode  on  a  silver 
saddle. 

As  she  approached  Salamanca,  she  was  met  by  the  rector  and  professors  of 
the  university,  in  their  academic  gowns.  Next  followed  the  judges  and  regi- 
dores  of  the  city,  in  their  robes  of  office,  of  crimson  velvet,  with  hose  and 
shoes  of  spotless  white.  After  these  came  the  military,  —horse  and  foot, — in 
their  several  companies,  making  a  brilliant  show  with  their  gay  uniforms ; 
and,  after  going  through  their  various  evolutions,  they  formed  into  an  escort 
for  the  princess.  In  this  way,  amidst  the  sound  of  the  music  and  the  shouts 
of  the  multitude,  the  glittering  pageant  entered  the  gates  of  the  capital. 

The  infanta  was  there  received  under  a  superb  canopy,  supported  by  the 
magistrates  of  the  city.  The  late  ambassador  to  Portugal,  Don  Luis  Sar- 
miento,  who  had  negotiated  the  marriage-treaty,  held  the  oridle  of  her  mule ; 
and  in  this  state  she  arrived  at  the  palace  of  the  duke  of  Alva,  destined  for 
her  reception  in  Salamanca.  Here  she  was  received  with  all  honour  by  the 
duchess,  in  the  presence  of  a  brilliant  company  of  cavaliers  and  noble  ladies. 
Each  of  the  ladies  was  graciously  permitted  by  the  infanta  to  kiss  her  hand  ; 
but  the  duchess,  the  chronicler  is  careful  to  inform  us,  she  distinguished  by 
the  honour  of  an  embrace. 

All  the  while,  Philip  had  been  in  the  presence  of  the  infanta,  unknown  to 
herself.  Impatient  to  see  his  destined  bride,  the  young  prince  had  sallied 
out,  with  a  few  attendants,  to  the  distance  of  five  or  six  miles  from  the  city, 
all  in  the  disguise  of  huntsmen.  He  wore  a  slouched  velvet  hat  on  his  head, 
and  his  face  was  effectually  concealed  under  a  gauze  mask,  so  that  he  could 
mingle  in  the  crowd  by  the  side  of  the  infanta  and  make  his  own  scrutiny, 
unmarked  by  any  one.  In  this  way  he  accompanied  the  procession  during 
the  five  hours  which  it  lasted,  until  the  darkness  had  set  in  ;  "  if  darkness 
could  be  spoken  of,"  says  the  chronicler,  "  where  the  blaze  of  ten  thousand 
torches  shed  a  light  stronger  than  day." 

The  following  evening,  November  the  twelfth,  was  appointed  for  the  mar- 
riage. The  duke  and  duchess  of  Alva  stood  as  sponsors,  and  the  nuptial 
ceremony  was  performed  by  Tavera,  archbishop  of  Toledo.  The  festivities 
were  prolonged  through  another  week.  The  saloons  were  filled  with  the 
beauty  of  Castile.  The  proudest  aristocracy  in  Europe  vied  with  each  other 
in  the  display  of  magnificence  at  the  banquet  and  the  tourney  ;  and  sounds 
of  merriment  succeeded  to  the  tranquillity  which  had  so  long  reigned  in  the 
cloistered  shades  of  Salamanca. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  the  month  the  new-married  pair  transferred  their 
residence  to  Valladolid, — a  city  at  once  fortunate  and  fatal  to  the  princess. 
Well  might  the  chronicler  call  it  "fatal ; "  for  in  less  than  two  years,  July  8th, 
1545,  she  there  gave  birth  to  a  son,  the  celebrated  Don  Carlos,  whose  myste- 
rious fate  has  furnished  so  fruitful  a  theme  for  speculation.  Mary  survived 
the  birth  of  her  child  but  a  few  days.  Had  her  life  been  spared,  a  mother's 
care  might  perhaps  have  given  a  different  direction  to  his  character,  and, 
through  this,  to  his  fortunes.  The  remains  of  the  infanta,  first  deposited  in 
the  cathedral  of  Granada,  were  afterwards  removed  to  the  Escorial,  that  mag- 
nificent mausoleum  prepared  by  her  husband  for  the  royalty  of  Spain.1* 

In  the  following  year  died  Tavera,  archbishop  of  Toledo.  He  was  an  excel- 
lent man,  and  greatly  valued  by  the  emperor  ;  who  may  be  thought  to  have 

'•  Aorei.  Reynas  Catholicaa,  torn.  II.  pp.  MS.— For  the  particulars  relating  to  the  wed- 
8S3-889.  -Cabrera,  Fllipe  Segundo,  lib.  I.  cap.  ding  I  am  chiefly  Indebted  to  Florrz.  who  Is  ax 
2. — Letl,  Vita  dl  Filippo  II.,  torn.  I.  p.  142. —  minute  In  hia  account  of  court  pageants  as 
Breve  Compendio,  MS.— Kelazioue  anonlmo,  any  master  of  ceremonies. 

0 


18  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

passed  a  sufficient  encomium  on  his  worth  when  he  declared  that "  by  his 
death  Philip  had  suffered  a  greater  loss  than  by  that  of  Mary  ;  for  he  could 
get  another  wife,  but  not  another  Tavera."  His  place  was  filled  by  Siliceo, 
Philip's  early  preceptor,  who,  after  having  been  raised  to  the  archiepiscopal 
see  of  Toledo,  received  a  cardinal's  hat  from  Rome.  The  accommodating 
spirit  of  the  good  ecclesiastic  had  doubtless  some  influence  in  his  rapid 
advancement  from  the  condition  of  a  poor  teacher  of  Salamanca  to  the  highest 
post, — as  the  see  of  Toledo,  with  its  immense  revenues  and  authority,  might 
be  considered,—  next  to  the  papacy,  in  the  Christian  Church. 

For  some  years  no  event  of  importance  occurred  to  disturb  the  repose  of 
the  Peninsula.    But  the  emperor  was  engaged  in  a  stormy  career  abroad,  in 
\    which  his  arms  were  at  length  crowned  with  success  by  the  decisive  battle  of 
Muhlberg. 

This  victory,  which  secured  him  the  person  of  his  greatest  enemy,  placed 
him  in  a  position  for  dictating  terms  to  the  Protestant  princes  of  Germany. 
He  had  subsequently  withdrawn  to  Brussels,  where  he  received  an  embassy 
from  Philip  congratulating  him  on  the  success  of  his  arms.  Charles  was 
desirous  to  see  his  son,  from  whom  he  had  now  been  separated  nearly  six 
years.  He  wished,  moreover,  to  introduce  him  to  the  Netherlands  and  make 
him  personally  acquainted  with  the  people  over  whom  he  was  one  day  to  rule. 
He  sent  instructions,  accordingly,  to  Philip  to  repair  to  Flanders  so  soon 
as  the  person  appointed  to  relieve  him  in  the  government  should  arrive  in 
Castile. 

The  individual  selected  by  the  emperor  for  this  office  was  Maximilian,  the 
son  of  his  brother  Ferdinand.  Maximilian  was  a  young  man  of  good  parts, 
correct  judgment,  and  popular  manners, — well  qualified,  notwithstanding  his 
youth,  for  the  post  assigned  to  him.  He  was  betrothed,  as  already  mentioned, 
to  the  emperors  eldest  daughter,  his  cousin  Mary  ;  and  the  regency  was  to  be 
delivered  into  his  hands  on  the  marriage  of  the  parties. 

Philip  received  his  father's  commands  while  presiding  at  the  cortes  of 
Monzon.  He  found  the  Aragonese  legislature  by  no  means  so  tractable  as 
the  Castilian.  The  deputies  from  the  mountains  of  Aragon  and  from  the  sea- 
coast  of  Catalonia  were  alike  sturdy  in  their  refusal  to  furnish  further  supplies 
for  those  ambitious  enterprises  which,  whatever  glory  they  might  bring  to 
their  sovereign,  were  of  little  benefit  to  them.  The  independent  people  of 
these  provinces  urged  their  own  claims  with  a  pertinacity  and  criticised  the 
conduct  of  their  niters  with  a  bluntness  that  was  little  grateful  to  the  ear  of 
majesty.  The  convocation  of  the  Aragonese  cortes  was,  in  the  view  of  the 
king  of  Spain,  what  the  convocation  of  a  general  council  was  in  that  of  the 
pope,— a  measure  not  to  be  resorted  to  but  from  absolute  necessity. 

On  the  arrival  of  Maximilian  in  Castile,  his  marriage  with  the  Infanta 
Mary  was  immediately  celebrated.  The  ceremony  took  place,  with  all  the 
customary  pomp,  in  the  courtly  city  of  Valladolid.  Among  the  festivities  that 
followed  may  be  noticed  the  performance  of  a  comedy  of  Ariosto, — a  proof 
that  the  beautiful  Italian  literature,  which  had  exercised  a  visible  influence 
on  the  compositions  of  the  great  Castilian  poets  of  the  time,  had  now  com- 
mended itself  in  some  degree  to  the  popular  taste. 

Before  leaving  the  country,  Philip,  by  his  father's  orders,  made  a  change  in 
his  domestic  establishment,  which  he  formed  on  the  Burgundian  model.  This 
was  more  ceremonious,  and  far  more  costly,  than  the  primitive  usage  of  Castile. 
A  multitude  of  new  offices  was  created,  and  the  most  important  were  filled  by 
grandees  of  the  highest  class.  The  duke  of  Alva  was  made  mai/or-domo 
mayor;  Antonio  de  Toledo,  his  kinsman,  master  of  the  horse;  Figueroa, 


VISIT  TO  FLANDERS.  19 

count  of  Feria,  captain  of  the  body-guard.  Among  the  chamberlains  w;  s 
Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva,  prince  of  Eboli,  one  of  the  most  important  members  ui 
the  cabinet  under  Philip.  Even  the  menial  offices  connected  with  the  person 
and  table  of  the  prince  were  held  by  men  of  rank.  A  guard  was  lodged  in 
the  palace.  Philip  dined  in  public  in  great  state,  attended  by  his  kings-at- 
arrns  and  by  a  host  of  minstrels  and  musicians.  One  is  reminded  of  the 
pompous  etiquette  of  the  court  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth.  All  this,  however, 
was  distasteful  to  the  Spaniards,  who  did  not  comprehend  why  the  prince 
should  relinquish  the  simple  usages  of  his  own  land  for  the  fashions  of  Bur- 
gundy. Neither  was  it  to  the  taste  of  Philip  himself ;  but  it  suited  that  of 
his  father,  who  was  desirous  that  his  son  should  flatter  the  Flemings  by  the 
assumption  of  a  state  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed  in  their  Burgundian 
princes.11 

Philip,  having  now  completed  his  arrangements  and  surrendered  the  regenry 
into  the  hands  of  his  brother-in-law,  had  no  reason  longer  to  postpone  Lis 
journey.  He  was  accompanied  by  the  duke  of  Alva,  Enriquez,  high-admiral 
of  Castile,  Ruy  Gomez,  prince  of  Eboli,  and  a  long  train  of  persons  of  the 
highest  rank.  There  was,  besides,  a  multitude  of  younger  cavaliers  of  family. 
The  proudest  nobles  of  the  land  contended  for  the  honour  of  having  their 
sons  take  part  in  the  expedition.  The  number  was  still  further  augmented 
by  a  body  of  artists  and  men  of  science.  The  emperor  was  desirous  that 
Philip  should  make  an  appearance  that  would  dazzle  the  imaginations  of  the 
people  among  whom  he  passed. 

With  this  brilliant  company,  Philip  began  his  journey  in  the  autumn  of 
1548.  He  took  the  road  to  Saragossa,  made  an  excursion  to  inspect  the 
fortifications  of  Perpignan,  offered  up  his  prayers  at  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady 
of  Montserrat,  passed  a  day  or  two  at  Barcelona,  enjoying  the  fete  prepared 
for  him  in  the  pleasant  citron-gardens  of  the  cardinal  of  Trent,  and  thence 
proceeded  to  the  port  of  Rosas,  where  a  Genoese  fleet,  over  which  proudly 
waved  the  imperial  banner,  was  riding  at  anchor  and  awaiting  his  arrival. 
It  consisted  of  fifty-eight  vessels,  furnished  by  Genoa,  Sicily,  ana  Naples,  and 
commanded  by  the  veteran  of  a  hundred  battles,  the  famous  Andrew  Doria. 

Philip  encountered  some  rough  weather  on  his  passage  to  Genoa.  The 
doge  and  the  principal  senators  came  out  of  port  in  a  magnificent  galley  to 
receive  him.  The  prince  landed,  amidst  the  roar  of  cannon  from  the  walls 
and  the  adjacent  fortifications,  and  was  forthwith  conducted  to  the  mansion 
of  the  Dorias,  pre-eminent,  even  in  this  city  of  palaces,  for  its  architectural 
splendour. 

During  his  stay  in  Genoa,  Philip  received  all  the  attentions  which  an 
elegant  hospitality  could  devise.  But  his  hours  were  not  wholly  resigned  to 
pleasure.  He  received,  every  day,  embassies  from  the  different  Italian  states, 
one  of  which  came  from  the  pope,  Paul  the  Third,  with  his  nephew,  Ottavio 
Farnese,  at  its  head.  Its  especial  object  was  to  solicit  the  prince's  interest 
with  his  father  for  the  restitution  of  Parma  and  Placentia  to  the  Holy  8ee. 
Philip  answered  in  terms  complimentary,  indeed,  says  the  historian,  "  but 
sufficiently  ambiguous  as  to  the  essential."  '*  He  had  already  learned  his 
first  lesson  in  kingcraft.  Not  long  after,  the  pope  sent  him  a  consecrated 
sword,  and  the  hat  worn  by  his  holiness  on  Christmas  eve,  accompanied  by  an 
autograph  letter,  in  which,  after  expatiating  on  the  mystic  import  of  his  gift, 

"  Cabrera,  Fllipe  Setrundo,  lib.  I.  cap.  2. —  al  punto  ewrnziale,  ma  molto  arnpt  ne'  com- 

Leti,  Vita  di  Killppo  II.,  torn.  1.  pp.  166,  '*:>,  pllmenti."  Leti,  Viu  di  Filippo  11.,  torn.  i. 

et  seq — Sepulvedae  Opera,  vol.  II.  p.  346.,  p.  1«9. 

l*  "  Nun  rtepoee  cbe  in  sens!  ambigui  circa 


20  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

he  expressed  his  confidence  that  in  Philip  he  was  one  day  to  find  the  true 
champion  of  the  Church. 

At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  the  royal  traveller  resumed  his  journey.  He 
crossed  the  famous  battle-field  of  Pavia,  and  was  shown  the  place  where 
Francis  the  First  surrendered  himself  a  prisoner,  and  where  the  Spanish 
ambuscade  sallied  out  and  decided  the  fortune  of  the  day.  His  bosom  swelled 
with  exultation  as  he  rode  over  the  ground  made  memorable  by  the  most 
brilliant  victory  achieved  by  his  father,— a  victory  which  opened  the  way  to 
the  implacable  hatred  of  his  vanquished  rival,  and  to  oceans  of  blood. 

From  Pavia  he  passed  on  to  Milan,  the  flourishing  capital  of  Lombardy, — 
the  fairest  portion  of  the  Spanish  dominions  in  Italy.  Milan  was  at  that 
time  second  only  to  Naples  in  population.  It  was  second  to  no  city  in  the 
elegance  of  its  buildings,  the  splendour  of  its  aristocracy,  the  opulence  and 
mechanical  ingenuity  of  its  burghers.  It  was  renowned,  at  the  same  time, 
for  its  delicate  fabrics  of  silk,  and  its  armour,  curiously  wrought  and  inlaid 
with  gold  and  silver.  In  all  the  arts  of  luxury  and  material  civilization  it 
was  unsurpassed  by  any  of  the  capitals  of  Christendom. 

As  the  prince  approached  the  suburbs,  a  countless  throng  of  people  came 
forth  to  greet  him.  For  fifteen  miles  before  he  entered  the  city,  the  road 
was  spanned  by  triumphal  arches,  garlanded  with  flowers  and  fruits,  and 
bearing  inscriptions,  both  in  Latin  and  Italian,  filled  with  praises  of  th.e 
father  and  prognostics  of  the  future  glory  of  the  son.  Amidst  the  concourse 
were  to  be  seen  the  noble  ladies  of  Milan,  in  gay,  fantastic  cars,  shining  in 
silk  brocade,  and  with  sumptuous  caparisons  for  their  horses.  As  he  drew 
near  the  town,  two  hundred  mounted  gentlemen  came  out  to  escort  him  into 
the  place.  They  were  clothed  in  complete  mail  of  the  fine  Milanese  work- 
manship, and  were  succeeded  by  fifty  pages,  in  gaudy  livery,  devoted  to 
especial  attendance  on  the  prince's  person  during  his  residence  in  Milan. 

Philip  entered  the  gates  under  a  canopy  of  state,  with  the  cardinal  of 
Trent  on  his  right  hand,  and  Philibert,  prince  of  Piedmont,  on  his  left.  He 
was  received  at  the  entrance  by  the  governor  of  the  place,  attended  by  the 
members  of  the  senate,  in  their  robes  of  office.  The  houses  which  lineo  the 
long  street  through  which  the  procession  passed  were  hung  with  tapestries, 
and  with  paintings  of  the  great  Italian  masters.  The  balconies  and  verandas 
were  crowded  with  spectators,  eager  to  behold  their  future  sovereign,  and 
rending  the  air  with  their  acclamations.  The  ceremony  of  reception  was 
closed,  in  the  evening,  by  a  brilliant  display  of  fireworks — in  which  the 
Milanese  excelled— and  by  a  general  illumination  of  the  city. 

Philip's  time  glided  away,  during  his  residence  at  Milan,  in  a  succession  of 
banquets,  fetes,  and  spectacles  of  every  description  which  the  taste  and 
ingenuity  of  the  people  could  devise  for  the  amusement  of  their  illustrious 
guest.  With  none  was  he  more  pleased  than  with  the  theatrical  entertain- 
ments, conducted  with  greater  elegance  and  refinement  in  Italy  than  in  any 
of  the  countries  beyond  the  Alps.  Nor  was  he  always  a  passive  spectator  at 
these  festivities.  He  was  especially  fond  of  dancing,  in  which  his  light  and 
agile  figure  fitted  him  to  excel.  In  the  society  of  ladies  he  lost  much  of  his 
habitual  reserve  ;  and  the  dignified  courtesy  of  his  manners  seems  to  have 
made  a  favourable  impression  on  the  fair  dames  of  Italy,  who  were  probably 
not  less  pleased  by  the  display  of  his  munificence.  To  the  governor's  wife, 
who  had  entertained  him  at  a  splendid  ball,  he  presented  a  diamond  ring 
worth  five  thousand  ducats ;  and  to  her  daughter  he  gave  a  necklace  of 
rubies  worth  three  thousand.  Similar  presents,  of  less  value,  he  bestowed  on 
others  of  the  court,  extending  his  liberality  even  to  the  musicians  and  inferior 


VISIT  TO  FLANDERS.  21 

persons  who  had  contributed  to  his  entertainment.  To  the  churches  he  rave 
still  more  substantial  proofs  of  his  generosity.  In  short,  he  showed  on  all 
occasions  a  munificent  spirit  worthy  of  his  royal  station. 

He  took  some  pains,  moreover,  to  reciprocate  the  civilities  he  had  received, 
by  entertaining  nis  hosts  in  return.  He  was  particularly  fortunate  in  ex- 
hibiting to  them  a  curious  spectacle,  which,  even  with  this  pleasure-loving 
people,  had  the  rare  merit  of  novelty.  This  was  the  graceful  tourney  intro- 
duced into  Castile  from  the  Spanish  Arabs.  The  highest  nobles  in  his  suite 
took  the  lead  in  it.  The  cavaliers  were  arranged  in  six  quadrilles,  or  factions, 
each  wearing  its  distinctive  livery  and  badges,  with  their  heads  protected  by 
shawls,  or  turbans,  wreathed  around  them  m  the  Moorish  fashion.  They 
were  mounted  d  la  gineta,  that  is,  on  the  light  jennet  of  Andalusia, — a  cross 
of  the  Arabian.  In  their  hands  they  brandished  their  slender  lances,  with 
long  streamers  attached  to  them,  of  some  gay  colour,  that  denoted  the 
particular  faction  of  the  cavalier.  Thus  lightly  equipped  and  mounted,  the 
Spanish  knights  went  through  the  delicate  manoeuvres  of  the  Moorish  tilt 
or  reeds,  showing  an  easy  horsemanship  and  performing  feats  of  agility  and 
grace  which  delighted  the  Italians,  keenly  alive  to  the  beautiful,  but  hitherto 
accustomed  only  to  the  more  ponderous  and  clumsy  exercises  of  the  European 
tourney.11 

•After  some  weeks,  Prince  Philip  quitted  the  hospitable  walls  of  Milan  and 
set  out  for  the  north.  Before  leaving  the  place,  he  was  joined  by  a  body  of 
two  hundred  mounted  arquebusiers,  wearing  his  own  yellow  uniform  and 
commanded  by  the  duke  of  Aerschot.  They  had  been  sent  to  him  as  an 
escort  by  his  father.  He  crossed  the  Tyrol,  then  took  the  road  by  the  way 
of  Munich,  Trent,  and  Heidelberg,  and  so  on  towards  Flanders.  On  all  the 
route  the  royal  party  was  beset  by  multitudes  of  both  sexes,  pressing  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  young  prince  who  was  one  day  to  sway  the  mightiest  sceptre 
in  Europe.  The  magistrates  of  the  cities  through  which  he  passed  welcomed 
him  with  complimentary  addresses,  and  with  presents,  frequently  in  the  form 
of  silver  urns,  or  goblets,  filled  with  golden  ducats.  Philip  received  the 
donatives  with  a  gracions  condescension ;  and,  in  truth,  they  did  not  come 
amiss  in  this  season  of  lavish  expenditure.  To  the  addresses  the  duke  of 
Alva,  who  rode  by  the  prince's  side,  usually  responded.  The  whole  of  the 
long  journey  was  performed  on  horseback, — the  only  sure  mode  of  conveyance 
in  a  country  where  the  roads  were  seldom  practicable  for  carriages. 

At  length,  after  a  journey  of  four  months,  the  royal  cavalcade  drew  near  the 
city  of  Brussels.  Their  approach  to  a  great  town  was  intimated  by  the  crowds 
who  came  out  to  welcome  them  ;  ana  Philip  was  greeted  with  a  tumultuous 
enthusiasm  which  made  him  feel  that  he  was  now  indeed  in  the  midst  of  his 
own  people.  The  throng  was  soon  swelled  by  bodies  of  the  military ;  and 
with  this  loyal  escort,  amidst  the  roar  of  artillery  and  the  ringing  of  bells, 
which  sent  forth  a  merry  peal  from  every  tower  and  steeple,  Philip  made  his 
fir.4  entrance  into  the  capital  of  Belgium. 

The  Regent  Mary  held  her  court  there,  and  her  brother,  the  emperor,  was 
occupying  the  palace  with  her.  It  was  not  long  before  the  father  had  again 
the  satisfaction  of  embracing  his  son,  from  whom  he  had  been  separated  so 
many  years.  He  must  have  been  pleased  with  the  alteration  which  time  had 
wrought  in  Philip's  appearance.  He  was  now  twenty-one  years  of  age,  and 
was  distinguished  by  a  comeliness  of  person  remarked  upon  by  more  than  one 

"  EntrelU,  El  felicimfmo  Viajedel  Principe        —Lett,  Vita  di  Klllppo  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  189.— 
n<>n  Phelipe  «le*le  Espafta  4  sun  Items  <!••  la        Breve  Cumpeixiio,  MS. 
U*x*  Al.-mmla  ( Anveres,  1562),  pp.  1-21,  32. 


22  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

who  had  access  to  his  presence.  Their  report  is  confirmed  by  the  portraits  of 
him  from  the  pencil  of  Titian,— taken  before  the  freshness  of  youth  had  faded 
into  the  sallow  hue  of  disease,  and  when  care  and  anxiety  had  not  yet  given  a 
sombre,  perhaps  sullen,  expression  to  his  features. 

He  had  a  fair,  and  even  delicate,  complexion.  His  hair  and  beard  were  of 
a  light  yellow.  His  eyes  were  blue,  with  the  eyebrows  somewhat  too  closely 
knit  together.  His  no>e  was  thin  and  aquiline.  The  principal  blemish  in  his 
countenance  was  his  thick  Austrian  lip.  His  lower  jaw  protruded  even  more 
than  that  of  his  father.  To  his  father,  indeed,  he  bore  a  great  resemblance  in 
his  lineaments,  though  those  of  Philip  were  of  a  less  intellectual  cast.  In 
stature  he  was  somewhat  below  the  middle  height,  with  a  slight,  symmetrical 
figure  and  well-made  limbs.  He  was  attentive  to  his  dress,  which  was  rich 
and  elegant,  but  without  any  artectation  of  ornament.  His  demeanour  was 
grave,  with  that  ceremonious  observance  which  marked  the  old  Castilian,  and 
which  may  be  thought  the  natural  expression  of  Philip's  slow  and  phlegmatic 
temperament.14 

During  his  long  stay  in  Brussels.  Charles  had  the  opportunity  of  superin- 
tending his  son's  education  in  one  department  in  which  it  was  deficient, — the 
science  of  government.  And  surely  no  instructor  could  have  been  found  with 
larger  experience  than  the  man  who  had  been  at  the  head  of  all  the  great 
political  movements  in  Europe  for  the  last  quarter  of  a  century.  Philip 
passed  some  time  every  day  in  his  father's  cabinet,  conversing  with  him  on 
public  affairs,  or  attending  the  sessions  of  the  council  of  state.  It  can  hardly 
be  doubted  that  Charles,  in  his  private  instruction,  inculcated  on  his  son  two 
principles  so  prominent  throughout  Philip's  administration, — to  maintain  the 
royal  authority  in  its  full  extent,  and  to  enforce  a  strict  conformity  to  the 
itoman  Catholic  communion.  It  is  probable  that  he  found  his  son  an  apt  and 
docile  scholar.  Philip  acquired,  at  least,  such  habits  of  patient  application, 
and  of  watching  over  the  execution  of  his  own  plans,  as  have  been  possessed 
by  few  princes. 

The  great  object  of  Philip's  visit  to  the  Low  Countries  had  been,  to  present 
himself  to  the  people  of  the  diiierent  provinces,  to  study  their  peculiar  charac- 
ters on  their  own  soil,  and  to  obtain  their  recognition  as  their  future  sovereign. 
After  a  long  residence  at  Brussels,  he  set  out  on  a  tour  through  the  provinces. 
He  was  accompanied  by  the  queen-regent,  and  by  the  same  splendid  retinue 
as  on  his  entrance  into  the  country,  with  the  addition  of  a  large  number  of 
the  Flemish  nobles. 

The  Netherlands  had  ever  been  treated  by  Charles  with  particular  favour, 
and  under  this  royal  patronage,  although  the  country  did  not  develop  its 
resources  as  under  its  own  free  institutions  of  a  later  period,  it  had  greatly 
prospered.  It  was  more  thickly  studded  with  trading  towns  than  any  country 

14  "Sua  altezza  B\  trova  bora  in  XXIII.  imperial  court,  who  states  the  facts  mentioned 
anni,  di  complessione  delicatissima  e  di  sta-  in  the  text,  expresses  a  reasonable  doubt 
tura  minore  che  mediocre,  nella  faccia  i<inii-  whether  Philip,  with  all  his  training,  would 
glia  ass.ii  al  1'adre  e  uel  memo."  Relation*  ever  equal  his  father :  "  Nelle  cose  d'  impor- 
del  ClansMino  Motlsig.  Marino  Cavulli  tomato  tanza,  facendolo  andare  1'  imperatore  ogni 
Ambasciatorc  del  imperat  re  Carlo  Quinto  giorno  per  due  o  tre  hore  nella  sna  camera, 
1'aiiiio  1551,  MS. — "  Kt  benche  siu  picciolo  di  parte  in  Consiglio  et  parte  per  ammaeKtrarlo 
persona,  e  pero  cosi  ben  fatto  et  con  ogni  parte  da  solo  a  colo,  dicesi  che  fin  h<  fa,  a  latto  pro- 
del  corpo  cosi  ben  proportionata  et  corrispon-  titto  assai,  et  da  -peran/a  di  proceder  pin  oltre ; 
dente  al  tutto,  et  veste  con  tanta  politezza  et  ma  la  grandezza  di  suo  padre  et  1*  esser  nato 
COM  tanto  giudicio  che  uon  si  puo  vederc  cosa  grande  et  non  have r  tin  qui  provato  truvaglio 

e'u  perfelta."    Uelatione  di  Miclie'.e  Soriano,  alcuuo,  non  lo  tarii  mai  coniparir  u  gran  giunta 

S.  ffruulv  all'  Iniperutore."    Ueialionu  diMariuo 

''  Mariuo  Cuvalli.  the  ambassador  at  the  Cavalli,  MS. 


PUBLIC  FESTIVITIES.  23 

of  similar  extent  in  Europe ;  and  its  flourishing  communities  held  the  first 
rank  in  wealth,  industry,  and  commercial  enterprise,  as  well  as  in  the  splendid 
way  of  living  maintained  by  the  aristocracy.  On  the  present  occasion  these 
communities  vied  with  one  another  in  their  loyal  demonstrations  towards  the 
prince  and  in  the  splendour  of  the  reception  which  they  gave  him.  A  work 
was  compiled  by  one  of  the  royal  suite,  setting  forth  the  manifold  honours 
paid  to  Philip  through  the  whole  of  the  tour,  which  even  more  than  his  former 
lourney  had  the  aspect  of  a  triumphal  progress.  The  book  grew,  under  the 
hands  of  its  patriotic  author,  to  the  size  of  a  bulky  folio,  which,  however  inte- 
resting to  his  contemporaries,  would  have  but  slender  attraction  for  the  present 
generation."  The  mere  inscriptions  emblazoned  on  the  triumphal  arches  and 
on  the  public  buildings  spread  over  a  multitude  of  pages.  They  were  both  in 
Latin  and  in  the  language  of  the  country,  and  they  augured  the  happy  days 
in  store  for  the  nation  when,  under  the  benignant  sceptre  of  Philip,  it  should 
enjoy  the  sweets  of  tranquillity  and  freedom.  Happy  auguries  !  which  showed 
that  the  prophet  was  not  gifted  with  the  spirit  of  prophecy." 

In  these  solemnities,  Antwerp  alone  expended  fifty  thousand  pistoles.  But 
no  place  compared  with  Brussels  in  the  costliness  and  splendour  of  its  festivi- 
ties, the  most  remarkable  of  which  was  a  tournament.  Under  their  Burgun- 
dian  princes  the  Flemings  had  been  familiar  with  these  chivalrous  pageants. 
The  age  of  chivalry  was,  indeed,  fast  fading  away  before  the  use  of  gunpowder 
and  other  improvements  in  military  science.  But  it  was  admitted  that  no 
tourney  had  been  maintained  with  so  much  magnificence  and  knightly  prowess 
since  the  days  of  Charles  the  Bold.  The  old  chronicler's  narrative  of  the 
event,  like  the  pages  of  Froissart,  seems  instinct  with  the  spirit  of  a  feudal 
age.  I  will  give  a  few  details,  at  the  hazard  of  appearing  trivial  to  those  who 
may  think  we  have  dwelt  long  enough  on  the  pageants  of  the  courts  of  Castile 
and  Burgundy.  But  such  pageants  form  part  of  the  natural  accompaniment 
of  a  picturesque  age,  and  the  illustrations  they  afford  of  the  manners  of  the 
time  may  have  an  interest  for  the  student  of  history. 

The  tourney  was  held  in  a  spacious  square,  enclosed  for  the  purpose,  in 
front  of  the  great  palace  of  Brussels.  Four  knights  were  prepared  to  main- 
tain the  field  against  all  comers,  and  jewels  of  price  were  to  oe  awarded  as  the 
prize  of  the  victors.  The  four  challengers  were  Count  Mansfeldt,  Count 
Hoorne,  Count  Aremberg,  and  the  Sieur  de  Hubennont ;  among  the  judges 
was  the  duke  of  Alva ;  and  in  the  list  of  successful  antagonists  we  find  the 
names  of  Prince  Philip  of  Spain,  Emanuel  Philibert,  duke  of  Savoy,  and 
Count  Egmont.  These  are  names  famous  in  history.  It  is  curious  to  observe 
how  the  men  who  were  soon  to  be  at  deadly  feud  with  one  another  were  thus 
sportively  met  to  celebrate  the  pastimes  of  chivalry. 

The  day  was  an  auspicious  one,  and  the  lists  were  crowded  with  the  burghers 
of  Brussels  and  the  people  of  the  surrounding  country.  The  galleries  which 
encompassed  the  area  were  graced  with  the  rank  and  beauty  of  the  capital. 
A  canopy,  embroidered  with  the  imperial  arms  in  crimson  and  gold,  indicated 
the  place  occupied  by  Charles  the  Fifth  and  his  sisters,  the  regent  of  the 
Motherlands  and  the  dowager  queen  of  France. 

For  several  hours  the  field  was  gallantly  maintained  by  the  four  challengers 
against  every  knight  who  was  ambitious  to  prove  his  prowess  in  the  presence 

"  This   Is  the  work   by  Entrella  already  "  Take  the  following  namplpR,  the  former 

(|iiot«'ii  (E   frliriwlmo  Viagedel  Prindi*  Don  being  one  of  the  Inwrlptions  at   Arras,  the 

Ph.  II !•<•),  — the  bent  authority  lor  thin  royal  latter,  one  over  the  gaU-  at  I  tordrecht: 

jim^n-KM.     'ITie   work,  which   wan  never  re-  "dementia  flrniabitur  throiius  eJiM." 

prim. . I,  bait  uow  become  extremely  rare.  "Te  duce  llbertas  tranmiillo  pace  beablt." 


24  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

of  so  illustrious  an  assembly.  At  length  the  trumpets  sounded,  and  announced 
the  entrance  of  four  cavaliers,  whose  brilliant  train  of  followers  intimated 
them  to  be  persons  of  high  degree.  The  four  knights  were  Prince  Philip,  the 
duke  of  Savoy,  Count  Egmont,  and  Juan  Manriquez  de  Lara,  major-domo  of 
the  emperor.  They  were  clothed  in  complete  mail,  over  which  they  wore 
surcoats  of  violet-coloured  velvet,  while  the  caparisons  of  their  horses  were  of 
cloth  of  gold. 

Philip  ran  the  first  course.  His  antagonist  was  the  Count  Mansfeldt,  a 
Flemish  captain  of  great  renown.  At  the  appointed  signal,  the  two  knights 
spurred  against  each  other,  and  met  in  the  centre  of  the  lists,  with  a  shock 
that  shivered  their  lances  to  the  very  grasp.  Both  knights  reeled  in  their 
saddles,  but  neither  lost  his  seat.  The  arena  resounded  with  the  plaudits  of 
the  spectators,  not  the  less  hearty  that  one  of  the  combatants  was  the  heir 
apparent. 

The  other  cavaliers  then  tilted,  with  various  success.  A  general  tourna- 
ment followed,  in  which  every  knight  eager  to  break  a  lance  on  this  fair 
occasion  took  part ;  and  many  a  feat  of  arms  was  performed,  doubtless  long 
remembered  by  the  citizens  of  Brussels.  At  the  end  of  the  seventh  hour,  a 
flourish  of  trumpets  announced  the  conclusion  of  the  contest ;  and  the  assembly 
broke  up  in  admirable  order,  the  knights  retiring  to  exchange  their  heavy 
panoplies  for  the  lighter  vestments  of  the  ball-room.  A  banquet  was  prepared 
by  the  municipality,  in  a  style  of  magnificence  worthy  of  their  royal  guests. 
The  emperor  and  has  sisters  honoured  it  with  their  presence,  ana  witnessed 
the  distribution  of  the  prizes.  Among  these,  a  brilliant  ruby,  the  prize 
awarded  for  the  lanfa  de  las  damas, — the  "  ladies'  lance"  in  the  language  of 
chivalry, — was  assigned  by  the  loyal  judges  to  Prince  Philip  of  Spain. 

Dancing  succeeded  to  the  banquet ;  and  the  high-bred  courtesy  of  the 
prince  was  as  much  commended  in  the  ball-room  as  his  prowess  had  been  in 
the  lists.  Maskers  mingled  with  the  dancers,  in  Oriental  costume,  some  in 
the  Turkish,  others  in  the  Albanian  fashion.  The  merry  revels  were  not  pro- 
longed beyond  the  hour  of  midnight,  when  the  company  broke  up,  loudly 
commending,  as  they  withdrew,  the  good  cheer  afforded  them  by  the  hospitable 
burghers  of  Brussels.18 

Philip  won  the  prize  on  another  occasion,  when  he  tilted  against  a  valiant 
knight  named  Quifiones.  He  was  not  so  fortunate  in  an  encounter  with  the 
son  of  his  old  preceptor,  Zuniga,  in  which  he  was  struck  with  such  force  on 
the  head  that,  after  being  carried  some  distance  by  his  horse,  he  fell  senseless 
from  the  saddle.  The  alarm  was  great,  but  the  accident  passed  away  without 
serious  consequences.19 

There  were  those  who  denied  him  skill  in  the  management  of  his  lance. 
Marillac,  the  French  ambassador  at  the  imperial  court,  speaking  of  a  tourney 
given  by  Philip  in  honour  of  the  princess  of  Lorraine,  at  Augsburg,  says  he 
never  saw  worse  lance-playing  in  his  life.  At  another  time,  he  remarks  that 
the  Spanish  prince  could  not  even  hit  his  antagonist.20  It  must  have  been  a 
very  palpable  hit  to  be  noticed  by  a  Frenchman.  The  French  regarded  the 

'"  "Asai  fueron  a  palacio  siendo  ya  casi  la  animis  pulvere  spiiitntn  intercltulente  jacuit, 

media  noche,  quando  se  vuieron  apeado  muy  donee    a   suis    sublevatus    est."    SepulveUas 

contentos  de  la  fiesta  y  Vanquete,  que  la  villa  Opera,  vol.  ii.  p.  381. 

lea  hiziera."     Estrella,    Viage  del   Principe  *°  Rauraer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 

Phelipe,  p.  73.  turies,  vol.  i.  p.  24.— Von  Rauiner's  abstract 

'"  "  Ictum  acceplt  in  eapite  galeaque'tam  of  the  MSS.  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Paris  con- 

vehementein,  ut  vecors  ac  dormitnto  similis  tains  some  very  curious  particulars  for  the 

pammper  invectus  ephippio  delaberetur,  et  illustration  of  the  reigus  both  of  Charles  the 

in  capnt  armis  supprior.-ni  corf*>ris  partem  Fiilh  and  of  Philip. 
gruvius  d(priuientibus  cadertt.    Itaque  semi- 


PUBLIC  FESTIVITIES.  25 

Spaniards  of  that  day  in  much  the  same  manner  as  they  regarded  the  English 
at  an  earlier  period,  or  as  they  have  continued  to  regard  them  at  a  later.  The- 
long  rivalry  of  the  French  and  Spanish  monarchs  had  infused  into  the  breasts 
of  their  subjects  such  feelings  of  mutual  aversion  that  the  opinions  of  either 
nation  in  reference  to  the  other  in  the  sixteenth  century,  must  be  received 
with  the  greatest  distrust. 

But  whatever  may  have  been  Philip's  success  in  these  chivalrous  displays,  it  is 
quite  certain  they  were  not  to  his  taste.  He  took  part  in  them  only  to  conform 
to  his  father's  wishes  and  to  the  humour  of  the  age.  Though  in  his  youth 
he  sometimes  hunted,  he  was  neither  fond  of  field-sports  nor  of  the  athletic 
exercises  of  chivalry.  His  constitution  was  far  from  robust.  He  sought  to 
invigorate  it  less  by  exercise  than  by  diet.  He  confined  himself  almost  wholly 
to  meat,  as  the  most  nutritious  food ;  abstaining  even  from  fish,  as  well  as 
from  fruit.*1  Besides  his  indisposition  to  active  exercises,  he  had  no  relish 
for  the  gaudy  spectacles  so  fashionable  in  that  romantic  age.  The  part  he 
had  played  in  the  pageants,  during  his  long  tour,  had  not  been  of  his  own 
seeking.  Though  ceremonious,  and  exacting  deference  from  all  who  approached 
him,  he  was  not  fond  of  the  pomp  and  parade  of  a  court  life.  He  preferred 
to  pass  his  hours  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  apartment,  where  he  took  pleasure 
in  the  conversation  of  a  few  whom  he  honoured  with  his  regard.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  the  emperor  could  induce  him  to  leave  his  retirement  and 
present  himself  in  the  audience-chamber  or  accompany  him  on  visits  of  cere- 
mony.** 

These  reserved  and  quiet  tastes  of  Philip  by  no  means  recommended  him  to 
the  Flemings,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  the  pomp  and  profuse  magnificence 
of  the  Burgundian  court.  Their  free  and  social  tempers  were  chilled  by  his 
austere  demeanour.  They  contrasted  it  with  the  affable  deportment  of  his 
father,  who  could  so  well  conform  to  the  customs  of  the  different  nations 
under  his  sceptre,  and  who  seemed  perfectly  to  comprehend  their  characters, 
— the  astute  policy  of  the  Italian,  the  homebred  simplicity  of  the  German,  and 
the  Castilian  propriety  and  point  of  honour.**  With  the  latter  only  of  these 
had  Philip  anything  in  common.  He  was  in  everything  a  Spaniard.  He 
talked  of  nothing,  seemed  to  think  of  nothing,  but  Spain.24  The  Netherlands 
were  to  him  a  foreign  land,  with  which  he  had  little  sympathy.  His  coun- 
sellors and  companions  were  wholly  Spanish.  The  people  of  Flanders  felt  that 
under  his  sway  little  favour  was  to  be  shown  to  them  ;  and  they  looked  for- 
ward to  the  time  when  all  the  offices  of  trust  in  their  own  country  would  be 

"  "  E  8.  M.  dl  complessione  tnolto  delicata,  Imperatore  lo  manda  in  visita,*  si  ncusa  per 

et  per  questo  vive  sempre  con  regola,  u&undo  godere  la  solita  quiete."    Relationede  Marino 

per  1*  ordinarlo  cibl  di  gran  nodrimento,  Usci-  Cavalli,  MS. 

ando  1  pesci.  frutti  et  slmili  cose  che  generano  "  "  Pare  che  la  n. it  lira  1'  habbi*  fatto  at  to 

cattivi  huuiori ;  dorme  molto,  fa  poco  esser-  con  la  familiarltaedomegtlcbez7.aagratificare 

citio,  et  1  suoi  trattfniint  nti  domestic!  sono  a  Fiammenghi  et  Borgognoni,  am  1'  Ingegno 

tutti  quletl;  et  bencbe  nell'  essorcitio  babbia.  et  prudcntia  a  gl'  Italian!,  con  la  riputatione 

mo€trato  un  poco  piu  dl  prontezza  et  di  viva-  et  aeverita  alii  Spagnuoli ;   vedendo  bora  in 

cita,  per5  »i  vede  che  ba  sforzato  la  Bua  na-  «uo  figliulo  aluimente  sentono  non  picclulo 

turn,  la  qnale  inclina  piu  alia  quiete  cbe  all'  dispiacere  di  qurato  cambio."    Ibid..  MS. 

ewrcitlo,  piu  al  ripooo  che  al  travaglio."  -'  "Phllippusipt-e  Hi»pania>  deeiderio  mag- 

Kelatlune  di  Micbele  Soriano,  MS.  nopere  aratuabat.,  nee  aliud  quani  Hispanlam 

**  "  RarUalrae  volte  va  fuora  in  Campagna,  loquebatur."    Sepulveda:  Opera,  vol.   11.   p. 

ha  piacrrp  dl  stars!  In  Camera,  co  suol  favoriti,  4U1. 
•  ragionare  dl  cose  private ;  et  Be  tall'  bora  1' 


*  [In  the  copy  edited  by  Albert  the  reading       clearly  what  la  probably  the  real  meaning.— 
i  ••  manda  a  cblaniare,"  which  expresses  more        ED.  J 


26  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

given  to  Castilians,  in  the  same  manner  as  those  of  Castile,  in  the  early  days 
of  Charles  the  Fifth,  had  been  given  to  Flemings.2* 

Yet  the  emperor  seemed  so  little  aware  of  his  son's  unpopularity  that  he 
was  at  this  very  time  making  arrangements  for  securing  to  him  the  imperial 
crown.  He  had  summoned  a  meeting  of  the  electors  and  great  lords  of  the 
empire,  to  be  held  at  Augsburg,  in  August,  1550.  There  he  proposed  to  secure 
Philip's  election  as  King  of  the  Romans,  so  soon  as  he  had  obtained  his  brother 
Ferdinand's  surrender  of  that  dignity.  But  Charles  did  not  show,  in  all  this, 
his  usual  knowledge  of  human  nature.  The  lust  of  power  on  his  son's  account 
— ineffectual  for  happiness  as  he  had  found  the  possession  of  it  in  his  own 
ca  ;e — seems  to  have  entirely  blinded  him. 

He  repaired  with  Philip  to  Augsburg,  where  they  were  met  by  Ferdinand 
and  the  members  of  the  German  diet.  But  it  was  in  vain  that  Charles  solicited 
his  brother  to  waive  his  claim  to  the  imperial  succession  in  favour  of  his 
nephew.  Neither  solicitations  nor  arguments,  backed  by  the  entreaties,  even 
the  tears,  it  is  said,  of  their  common  sister,  the  Regent  Mary,  could  move 
Ferdinand  to  forego  the  splendid  inheritance.  Charles  was  not  more  suc- 
cessful when  he  changed  his  ground  and  urged  his  brother  to  acquiesce  in 
Philip's  election  as  his  successor  in  the  dignity  of  King  of  the  Romans,  or,  at 
least,  in  his  being  associated  in  that  dignity — a  thing  unprecedented — with 
his  cousin  Maximilian,  Ferdinand's  son,  who,  it  was  understood,  was  destined 
by  the  electors  to  succeed  his  father. 

This  young  prince,  who  meanwhile  had  been  summoned  to  Augsburg,  was 
as  little  disposed  as  Ferdinand  had  been  to  accede  to  the  proposals  of  his  too 
grasping  father-in-law ;  though  he  courteously  alleged,  as  the  ground  of  his 
refusa1,  that  he  had  no  right  to  interfere  with  the  decision  of  the  electors.  He 
might  safely  rest  his  cause  on  their  decision.  They  had  no  desire  to  per- 
petuate the  imperial  sceptre  in  the  line  of  Castilian  monarchs.  They  had 
suffered  enough  from  the  despotic  temper  of  Charles  the  Fifth  ;  and  this 
temper  they  had  no  reason  to  think  would  be  mitigated  in  the  person  of 
Philip.  They  desired  a  German  to  rule  over  them, — one  who  would  under- 
stand the  German  character  and  enter  heartily  into  the  feelings  of  the  people. 
MaxiniiHan's  directness  of  purpose  and  kindly  nature  had  won  largely  on  the 
affections  of  his  countrymen,  and  proved  him,  in  their  judgment,  worthy  of 
the  throne.*' 

Philip,  on  the  other  hand,  was  even  more  distasteful  to  the  Germans  than 
he  was  to  the  Flemings.  It  was  in  vain  that  at  their  banquets  he  drank  twice 
or  thrice  as  much  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do,  until  the  cardinal  of  Trent 
assured  him  that  he  was  fast  gaining  in  the  good  graces  of  the  people.27  The 
natural  haughtiness  of  his  temper  snowed  itself  on  too  many  occasions  to  be 
mistaken.  When  Charles  returned  to  his  palace,  escorted,  as  he  usually  was, 
by  a  train  of  nobles  and  princes  of  the  empire,  he  would  courteously  take  them 
by  the  hand,  and  raise  his  hat,  as  he  parted  from  them.  But  Philip,  it  was 
observed,  on  like  occasions  walked  directly  into  the  palace,  without  so  much 
a:5  turning  round  or  condescending  in  any  way  to  notice  the  courtiers  who  had 
accompanied  him.  This  was  taking  higher  ground  even  than  his  father  had 
done.  In  fact,  it  was  said  of  him  that  he  considered  himself  greater  than 

"  "Si  fa  giudicio,  che  quando  egli  succe-  Let!.  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  i.  pp.  195-198. 

dera  al  g.iverno  delli  stati  Mini  debba  servirsi  — Sepulveda?  Opera,  vol.   ii.  pp.  399-401. — 

in  tutto  tt  per  tutto  delli  ministri  Spagnuoli,  Marillac.  ap.  Raumer.  Sixteenth  and  Seven- 

alla  qual  natione  e  inclinato  piu  di  quellu  che  teeuth  Centuries,  vol.  i.  p.  28  et  seq. 
el  cunvenga  a  prenci|>e  che  vuglia  dominare  a  •'  Marillac,    ap.    Raumer,    Sixteenth    and 

diversi."    Relaiione  di  Marino  Cavalli,  MS.  Seventeenth  Centuries,  vol.  i.  p.  30. 

™  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  i.  cap.  3. — 


AMBITIOUS  SCHEMES.  27 

his  father,  inasmuch  as  the  son  of  an  emperor  was  greater  than  the  son 
oi  a  king  ! 2* — a  foolish  vaunt,  not  the  less  indicative  of  his  character  that  it 
was  made  for  him,  probably,  by  the  Germans.  In  short,  Philip's  manners, 
which,  in  the  language  of  a  contemporary,  had  been  little  pleasing  to  the 
Italians  and  positively  displeasing  to  the  Hemings,  were  altogether  odious  to 
the  Germans.28 

Nor  was  the  idea  of  Philip's  election  at  all  more  acceptable  to  the  Spaniards 
themselves.  That  nation  had  been  long  enough  regarded  as  an  appendage  to 
the  empire.  Their  pride  had  been  wounded  by  the  light  in  which  they  were 
held  by  Charles,  who  seemed  to  look  on  Spain  as  a  royal  domain,  valuable 
chiefly  for  the  means  it  afforded  him  for  playing  his  part  on  the  great  theatre 
of  Europe.  The  haughty  Castilian  of  the  sixteenth  century,  conscious  of  his 
superior  pretensions,  could  ill  brook  this  abasement  He  sighed  for  a  prince 
born  and  bred  in  Spain,  who  would  be  content  to  pass  his  life  in  Spain,  and 
would  have  no  ambition  unconnected  with  her  prosperity  and  glory.  The 
Spaniards  were  even  more  tenacious  on  this  head  than  the  Germans.  Their 
remote  situation  made  them  more  exclusive,  more  strictly  national,  and  less 
tolerant  of  foreign  influence.  They  required  a  Spaniard  to  rule  over  them. 
Such  was  Philip ;  and  they  anticipated  the  hour  when  Spain  should  be 
divorced  from  the  empire  and,  under  the  sway  of  a  patriotic  prince,  rise  to 
her  just  pre-eminence  among  the  nations. 

Yet  Charles,  far  from  yielding,  continued  to  press  the  point  with  such 
pertinacity  that  it  seemed  likely  to  lead  to  an  open  rupture  between  the 
different  branches  of  his  family.  For  a  tune  Ferdinand  kept  his  apartment, 
and  liad  no  intercourse  with  Charles  or  his  sister.*0  Yet  in  the  end  the  genius 
or  the  obstinacy  of  Charles  so  far  prevailed  over  his  brother  that  he  acquiesced 
in  a  private  compact,  by  which,  while  he  was  to  retain  possession  of  the 
imperial  crown,  it  was  agreed  that  Philip  should  succeed  him  as  King  of  the 
Romans,  and  that  Maximilian  should  succeed  Philip.11  Ferdinand  hazarded 
little  by  concessions  which  could  never  be  sanctioned  by  the  electoral  college. 
The  reverses  which  befell  the  emperor's  arms  in  the  course  of  the  following 
year  destroyed  whatever  influence  he  might  have  possessed  in  that  body  ;  and 
he  seems  never  to  have  revived  his  schemes  for  aggrandizing  his  son  by  securing 
to  him  the  succession  to  the  empire. 

Philip  had  now  accomplished  the  great  object  of  his  visit.  He  had  pre- 
sented himself  to  the  people  of  the  Netherlands,  and  had  received  tneir 
homage  as  heir  to  the  realm.  His  tour  had  been  in  some  respects  a  profitable 
one.  It  was  scarcely  possible  that  a  young  man  whose  days  had  hitherto 
been  passed  within  the  narrow  limits  of  his  own  country,  for  ever  under  the 
same  local  influences,  should  not  have  his  ideas  greatly  en'arged  by  going 
abroad  and  mingling  with  different  nations.  It  was  especially  important  to 
Philip  to  make  himself  familiar,  as  none  but  a  resident  can  be,  with  the 

"  Ilanke,  Ottoman  and  Spanish  Empires  in  the  cliarict.  ri.-tir  letter  of  Charles  to  his  slst.  r, 

the  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Outlines  (Eng.  the  regMit  of  the  Ncthcrlan< :»  (  December  1 6th, 

trans.,  l/ondon,  1843),  p.  31.  1550).  full  of  uncry  expressions  against  Kerdl- 

-'•  ••  I  >.iri  wl  futtaediieat lone  neiv'Kiii  qnandn  nat  <l  lor  his  ingratitude  and  treachery.     The 

S.  M.  um-i  la  prims  volta  da  Spagna,  et  1*806  m-lu-me,  according  to  Charles's  view  of  it,  was 

per  Italia  et  per  GermanU  In  Ktaiidra.  Uscl6  calculated  for  the  benefit  of  both  parties, — "re 

impreftslone  da  per  tutto  cbe  fotwed'animo  i*e-  vue  conn-noit  pour  ettalilir  nut  mainmi." 

vero  et  intrattabile;  et  poro  fu  poco  grato  a  Lnnz,  C'orrespondenx  des    KaUers    Karl   V. 

Italian),  lngratls*lmo  a  Klamengnl  et  a  Tede-  (Leipzig.  1*46),  B.  lil.  K.  IS. 
schi  odioeo."     Relation?  di  Michele  Suriano,  "  A  copy  of  the  inotniment  containing  this 

MS.  agreement,  dated  March  9th,  1551.  Ix  preserved 

•""  Mnrillar,   ap.    Ranmer,    Sixteenth    and  In   the  archives    of    Hclghim.     See   Mignet, 

Seventeenth  Centurie-,  vol.  i.  p.  32— See  also  Cbarlcu-^uint.  p.  4'A  note. 


28  EARLY  DAYS  OF  PHILIP. 

character  and  institutions  of  those  nations  over  whom  he  was  one  day  to 
preside.  Yet  his  visit  to  the  Netherlands  had  not  been  attended  with  the 
happiest  results.  He  evidently  did  not  make  a  favourable  impression  on  the 
people.  The  more  they  saw  of  him  the  less  they  appeared  to  like  him.  Such 
impressions  are  usually  reciprocal ;  and  Philip  seems  to  have  parted  from  the 
country  with  little  regret.  Thus,  in  the  first  interview  between  the  future 
sovereign  and  his  subjects  the  symptoms  might  already  be  discerned  of  that 
alienation  which  was  afterwards  to  widen  into  a  permanent  and  irreparable 
breach. 

Philip,  anxious  to  reach  Castile,  pushed  forward  his  journey,  without  halting 
to  receive  the  civilities  that  were  everywhere  tendered  to  him  on  his  route. 
He  made  one  exception,  at  Trent,  where  the  ecclesiastical  council  was  holding 
the  memorable  session  that  occupies  so  large  a  share  in  Church  annals.  On 
his  approach  to  the  city,  the  cardinal  legate,  attended  by  the  mitred  prelates 
and  other  dignitaries  of  the  council,  came  out  in  a  body  to  receive  him. 
During  his  stay  there  he  was  entertained  with  masks,  dancing,  theatrical 
exhibitions,  and  jousts,  contrived  to  represent  scenes  in  Ariosto."  These 
diversions  of  the  reverend  fathers  formed  a  whimsical  contrast,  perhaps  a 
welcome  relief ,  to  their  solemn  occupation  of  digesting  a  creed  for  the  Christian 
world. 

From  Trent  Philip  pursued  his  way,  with  all  expedition,  to  Genoa,  where 
he  embarked,  under  the  flag  of  the  veteran  Doria,  who  had  brought  him  from 
Spain.  He  landed  at  Barcelona  on  the  twelfth  day  of  July,  1551,  and  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  Valladolid,  where  he  resumed  the  government  of  the 
kingdom.  He  was  fortified  by  a  letter  from  his  father,  dated  at  Augsburg, 
which  contained  ample  instructions  as  to  the  policy  he  was  to  pursue,  and 
freely  discussed  both  the  foreign  and  domestic  relations  of  the  country.  The 
letter,  which  is  very  long,  shows  that  the  capacious  mind  of  Charles,  however 
little  time  he  could  personally  give  to  the  attairs  of  the  monarchy,  fully  com- 
prehended its  internal  condition  and  the  extent  of  its  resources.33 

The  following  years  were  years  of  humiliation  to  Charles ;  years  marked  by 
the  flight  from  Innsbruck,  and  the  disastrous  siege  of  Metz, — when,  beaten  by 
the  Protestants,  foiled  by  the  French,  the  reverses  of  the  emperor  pressed 
heavily  on  his  proud  heart,  and  did  more,  probably,  than  all  the  homilies  of 
his  ghostly  teacners  to  disgust  him  with  the  world  and  its  vanities. 

Yet  these  reverses  made  little  impression  on  Spain.  The  sounds  of  war 
died  away  before  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  Pyrenees.  Spain,  it  is  true, 
sent  forth  her  sons,  from  time  to  time,  to  serve  under  the  banners  of  Charles  ; 
and  it  was  in  that  school  that  was  perfected  the  admirable  system  of  discipline 
and  tactics  which,  begun  by  the  Great  Captain,  made  the  Spanish  infantry  the 
most  redoubtable  in  Europe.  But  the  great  body  of  the  people  felt  little 
interest  in  the  success  of  these  distant  enterprises,  where  success  brought  them 
no  good.  Not  that  the  mind  of  Spain  was  inactive,  or  oppressed  with  the 
lethargy  which  stole  over  it  in  a  later  age.  There  was,  on  the  contrary,  great 
intellectual  activity.  She  was  excluded  by  an  arbitrary  government  from 
pushing  her  speculations  in  the  regions  of  theological  or  political  science.  But 
this,  to  a  considerable  extent,  was  the  case  with  most  of  the  neighbouring 
nations ;  and  she  indemnified  herself  for  this  exclusion  by  a  more  diligent 

'"  Leti,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  199. —  copy,  taken  from  one  in  the  rich  collection  of 

Memorial  et  Recueil  des  Voyages  du  Roi  des  Sir  Thomas  Phillips,  is  published  at  length  by 

Kspajrnes,  escript  par  le  Controleur  de  Sa  Ma-  Sandoval,  in  his  Hist.  <ie  Carlos  V.,  where  it 

jeste.  MS.  occupies  twelve  pages  folio.  Tom.  ii.  p.  475 

"  The  letter,  of  which  I  have  a  manuscript  et  seq. 


CONDITION  OF  SPAIN.  29 

cultivation  of  elegant  literature.  The  constellation  of  genius  had  already 
begun  to  show  itself  above  the  horizon,  which  was  to  shed  a  glory  over  the 
meridian  and  the  close  of  Philip's  reign.  The  courtly  poets  in  the  reign  of 
his  father  had  confessed  the  influence  of  Italian  models,  derived  through  the 
recent  territorial  acquisitions  in  Italy.  But  the  national  taste  was  again 
asserting  its  supremacy ;  and  the  fashionable  tone  of  composition  was  becoming 
more  and  more  accommodated  to  the  old  Castilian  standard. 

It  would  be  impossible  that  any  departure  from  a  national  standard  should 
be  long  tolerated  in  Spain,  where  the  language,  the  manners,  the  dress,  the 
usages  of  the  country  were  much  the  same  as  they  had  been  for  generations, 
— as  they  continued  to  be  for  generations,  long  after  Cervantes  held  up  the 
mirror  of  fiction  to  reflect  the  traits  of  tne  national  existence  more  vividly 
than  is  permitted  to  the  page  of  the  chronicler.  In  the  rude  romances  of  the 
fourteenth  and  the  fifteenth  century  the  Castilian  of  the  sixteenth  might  see 
his  way  of  life  depicted  with  tolerable  accuracy.  The  amorous  cavalier  still 
thrummed  his  guitar  by  moonlight  under  the  balcony  of  his  mistress,  or  wore 
her  favours  at  the  Moorish  tilt  of  reeds.  The  common  people  still  sung  their 
lively  seyuidillas,  or  crowded  to  the  fiestas  de  toros, — the  cruel  bull-fights, — 
or  to  the  more  cruel  autos  defi.  This  last  spectacle,  of  comparatively  recent 
origin, — in  the  time  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, — was  the  legitimate  conse- 
quence of  the  long  wars  with  the  Moslems,  which  made  the  Spaniard  intolerant 
of  religious  infidelity.  Atrocious  as  it  seems  in  a  more  humane  and  enlightened 
age,  it  was  regarded  by  the  ancient  Spaniard  as  a  sacrifice  grateful  to  Heaven, 
at  which  he  was  to  rekindle  the  dormant  embers  of  his  own  religious 
sensibilities. 

The  cessation  of  the  long  Moorish  wars,  by  the  fall  of  Granada,  made  the 
most  important  change  in  the  condition  of  the  Spaniards.  They,  however, 
found  a  vent  for  their  chivalrous  fanaticism  in  a  crusade  against  the  heathen 
of  the  New  World.  Those  who  returned  from  their  wanderings  brought  back 
to  Spain  little  of  foreign  usages  and  manners  ;  for  the  Spaniard  was  the  only 
civilized  man  whom  they  found  in  the  wilds  of  America. 

Thus  passed  the  domestic  life  of  the  Spaniard,  in  the  same  unvaried  circle 
of  habits,  opinions,  and  prejudices,  to  the  exclusion,  and  probably  contempt,  of 
everything  foreign.  Not  that  these  habits  did  not  differ  in  the  different  pro- 
vinces, where  their  distinctive  peculiarities  were  handed  down,  with  traditional 
precision,  from  father  to  son.  But  beneath  these  there  was  one  common  basis 
of  the  national  character.  Never  was  there  a  people,  probably,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Jews,  distinguished  by  so  intense  a  nationality.  It  was 
among  such  a  people,  and  under  such  influences,  that  Philip  was  born  and 
educated.  His  temperament  and  his  constitution  of  mind  peculiarly  fitted 
him  for  the  reception  of  these  influences  ;  and  the  Spaniards,  as  he  grew  in 
years,  beheld,  with  pride  and  satisfaction,  in  their  future  sovereign,  the  most 
perfect  type  of  the  national  character. 


30  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

Condition  of  England — Character  of  Mary  Tudor— Philip's  Proposals  of  Marriage — Marriage- 
Articles— Insurrection  in  England. 

1553,  1554. 

IN  the  summer  of  1553,  three  years  after  Philip's  return  to  Spain,  occurred  an 
event  which  was  to  exercise  a  considerable  influence  on  his  fortunes.  This 
was  the  death  of  Edward  the  Sixth  of  England,— after  a  brief  but  important 
reign.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  sister  Mary,  that  unfortunate  princess,  whose 
sobriquet  of  "  Bloody  "  gives  her  a  melancholy  distinction  among  the  sovereigns 
of  the  house  of  Tudor. 

The  reign  of  her  father,  Henry  the  Eighth,  had  opened  the  way  to  the  great 
revolution  in  religion,  the  effects  of  which  were  destined  to  be  permanent. 
Yet  Henry  himself  showed  his  strength  rather  in  unsettling  ancient  institutions 
than  in  establishing  new  ones.  By  the  abolition  of  the  monasteries  he  broke 
up  that  spiritual  militia  which  was  a  most  efficacious  instrument  for  maintain- 
ing the  authority  of  Rome  ;  and  he  completed  the  work  of  independence  by 
seating  himself  boldly  in  the  chair  of  St.  Peter  and  assuming  the  authority  of 
head  of  the  Church.  Thus,  while  the  supremacy  of  the  pope  was  rejected,  the 
Roman  Catholic  religion  was  maintained  in  its  essential  principles  unimpaired. 
In  other  words,  the  nation  reftiained  Catholics,  but  not  Papists. 

The  impulse  thus  given  under  Henry  was  followed  up  to  more  important 
consequences  under  his  son,  Edward  the  Sixth.  The  opinions  of  the  German 
Reformers,  considerably  modified,  especially  in  regard  to  the  exterior  forms 
and  discipline  of  worship,  met  with  a  cordial  welcome  from  the  ministers  of  the 
young  monarch.  Protestantism  became  the  religion  of  the  land ;  and  the 
Church  of  England  received,  to  a  great  extent,  the  peculiar  organization  which 
it  has  preserved  to  the  present  day.  But  Edward's  reign  was  too  brief  to  allow 
the  new  opinions  to  take  deep  root  in  the  hearts  of  the  people.  The  greater 
part  of  the  aristocracy  soon  showed  that,  whatever  religious  zeal  they  had 
affected,  they  were  not  prepared  to  make  any  sacrifice  of  their  temporal 
interests.  On  the  accession  of  a  Catholic  queen  to  the  throne,  a  reaction  soon 
became  visible.  Some  embarrassment  to  a  return  to  the  former  faith  was 
found  in  the  restitution  which  it  might  naturally  involve  of  the  confiscated 
property  of  the  monastic  orders.  But  the  politic  concessions  of  Rome  dis- 
pensed with  this  severe  trial  of  the  sincerity  of  its  new  proselytes  ;  and  England, 
after  repudiating  her  heresies,  was  received  into  the  fold  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic Church  and  placed  once  more  under  the  jurisdiction  of  its  pontiff. 

After  the  specimens  given  of  the  ready  ductility  with  which  the  English  of 
that  day  accommodated  their  religious  creeds  to  the  creed  of  their  sovereign, 
we  shall  hardly  wonder  at  the  caustic  criticism  of  the  Venetian  ambassador 
resident  at  the  court  of  London  in  Queen  Mary's  time.  "  The  example  and 
authority  of  the  sovereign,"  he  says,  "  are  everything  with  the  people  of  this 
country,  in  matters  of  faith.  As  he  believes,  they  believe ;  Judaism  or 
Mahometanism, — it  is  all  one  to  them.  They  conform  themselves  easily  to  his 


CONDITION  OF  ENGLAND.  31 

will,  at  least  so  far  as  the  outward  show  is  concerned ;  and  most  easily  of  all 
where  it  concurs  with  their  own  pleasure  and  profit."  ' 

The  ambassador,  Giovanni  Alicheli,  was  one  of  that  order  of  merchant- 
princes  employed  by  Venice  in  her  foreign  missions, — men  whose  acquaintance 
with  affairs  enabled,  them  to  comprehend  the  resources  of  the  country  to  which 
they  Avere  sent,  as  well  as  the  intrigues  of  its  court.  Their  observations  were 
digested  into  elaborate  reports,  which  on  their  return  to  Venice  were  publicly 
read  before  the  doge  and  the  senate.  The  documents  thus  prepared  form  some 
of  the  most  valuable  and  authentic  materials  for  the  history  of  Europe  in  the 
sixteenth  century.  Micheli's  report  is  diffuse  on  the  condition  of  England 
under  the  reign  of  Queen  Mary  ;  and  some  of  his  remarks  will  have  interest 
for  the  reader  of  the  present  day,  as  affording  a  standard  of  comparison  with 
the  past.* 

London  he  eulogizes  as  one  of  the  noblest  capitals  in  Europe,  containing, 
with  its  suburbs,  about  a  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  souls.3  The  great 
lords,  as  in  France  and  Germany,  passed  most  of  their  time  on  their  estates  in 
the  country. 

The  kingdom  was  strong  enough,  if  united,  to  defy  any  invasion  from 
abroad.  Yet  its  navy  was  small,  having  dwindled,  from  neglect  and  an  ill- 
judged  economy,  to  not  more  than  forty  vessels  of  war.  But  the  mercantile 
marine  could  furnish  two  thousand  more,  which  at  a  short  notice  could  be  well 
equipped  and  got  ready  for  sea.  The  army  was  particularly  strong  in  artillery, 
and  provided  with  all  the  munitions  of  war.  The  weapon  chiefly  in  repute 
was  the  bow,  to  which  the  English  people  were  trained  from  early  youth.  In 
their  cavalry  they  were  most  defective.  Horses  were  abundant,  but  wanted 
bottom.  They  were  for  the  most  part  light,  weak,  and  grass-fed.4  The  nation 
was,  above  all,  to  be  envied  for  the  lightness  of  the  public  burdens.  There 
were  no  taxes  on  wine,  beer,  salt,  cloth,  nor,  indeed,  on  any  of  the  articles  that 
in  other  countries  furnished  the  greatest  sources  of  revenue.4  The  whole 
revenue  did  not  usually  exceed  two  hundred  thousand  pounds.  Parliaments 
were  rarely  summoned,  except  to  save  the  king  trouble  or  to  afford  a  cloak  to 

1  "Quanto  alia  religione,  eia    certa   V'ra  public  libraries  of  Europe;  among  others,  In 

Sent*  cbe  ogni  cosa  puo  in  loro  1*  essempio  et  the  collection  of  the  Cottonian  .MSS.,  and  of 

1'  autorita  del  Principe,  cbe  in  tauto  gl'  In-  tbe  I>ansdowne  MSS.,  in  the  British  Museum  ; 

gl'-si  stiniano  la  religione,  et  si  muovono  per  and  in  the  Barberini  Library,  at  Rome.     The 

essa.  In  quanto  sodigfanno  all'  obllgo  de'  8tid-  copy  in  my  possession  is  fn>m  theducal  library 

dill  verso  il  Principe,  vivendo  com*  ei  vive,  at  Gotba.     ST  Henry  Ellis,  in  the  Second 

cred'-ndocioche  el  crede,  et  flnalmente  facendo  Series  of  his  "Original  Letters,"   bas  given 

tutto  quel  che  comanda  conservirsene,  pift  per  an  abstract  of  the  Cottonian  MS. 

mostra  esteriore,  per  non  incorrere  in  suu  dis-  •'  This  agrees  with  the  Lansdowne  MS.   The 

gratia,  che  por  zelo  interiore ;  perche  11  mede-  Cottonian,  as  given  by  Sir  Henry  Ellis,  puts 

HIIIIO  facianodflla M:iumettanaodellaGiudea,  tbe  population  at  K.0,000. 

pur  che  '1  Re  mostrasse  di  credere,  et  volesse  *  "E-Heiulo  cavalli  deboll,  et  dl  po<a  lena, 

COM;  et  H'   accommodariano  a  tutte,   ma  a  nntrit  solo  <!'  ciba,  vivendo  como  la  p"c<-ro, 

quella  piu  farilm-  nte  dalla  quale  sperassero  o  et  tutti  gli  nltri  animali,  per  la  temperic  dell 

ver'  ni;iggior  licentia  et  liberta  dl  vivere,  o  aere  da  tuttl  I  tctupi  ne  i  paxcoli  a  la  cam- 

vero  qu.ilrlic  utlle."    Relationedel  Clarissimo  pagra,  non  posttoiio  far"  gran'  pruove,  ne  sono 

M.  <ii»vanni  Micheli,  ri tomato  Amba.«datore  tenuti  in  stlina."     Relaiione  di  Gio.  Micbeli, 

allft  Ki-gina  d'  Ingbllterra  1'  anno  1557,  M.S.  MS. 

•'  Soriano  notices  the  courteous  bearing  and  *  "  Non  solo  non  sono  in  essere,  111.1  non  pur 

address  of  his  countryman  Micbeli,  as  render-  si  considerano  gravezze  <li  sorte  alcuna,  non 

ing  him   universally  popular  at  the  courts  di  sale,  non  di  vino  o  de  Mia,  non  di  maclnn, 

where  he  resided:  "11  Michlel  e  gratlwtimo  a  non  di  came,  non  dl  far  pane,  et  cow  stmili 

tutti  flno  al  minore,  per  la  domestidiezza  cbe  neces.«arie  al   vivere,  che   in   tutti   pli  altri 

haven  con  i  grandi,  et  per  la  dolrezzaet  corte-  luoghi  d'  Italia  speclalmente,  el  In  Kiandra, 

sin  che  usava  con  gl'  altri.  et  per  il  giudiclo  «>no  di  tanto  maggt»r  utlle,  quanto  fe   pifi 

che  mortrava  con  tutti."     Relatlone  di  Ml-  granite  II  numero  del  sudditi  che  le  oonsu- 

chele  Soriano,  MS.— Copies  of  Micheli's  in-  uiano."    Ibid.,  MS. 
teresting  Relation  are  to  be  found  in  different 


32  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

his  designs.  No  one  ventured  to  resist  the  royal  will :  servile  the  members 
came  there,  and  servile  they  remained.'  An  Englishman  of  the  nineteenth 
century  may  smile  at  the  contrast  presented  by  some  of  these  remarks  to  the 
condition  of  the  nation  at  the  present  day  ;  though  in  the  item  of  taxation  the 
contrast  may  be  rather  fitted  to  provoke  a  sigh. 

The  portrait  of  Queen  Mary  is  given  by  the  Venetian  minister  with  a 
colouring  somewhat  different  from  that  in  which  she  is  commonly  depicted  by 
English  historians.  She  was  about  thirty-six  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  her 
accession.  In  stature  she  was  of  rather  less  than  the  middle  size, — not  large, 
as  was  the  case  with  both  her  father  and  mother, — and  exceedingly  well  made. 
"  The  portraits  of  her,"  says  Micheli,  "  show  that  in  her  youth  she  must  have 
been  not  only  good-looking,  but  even  handsome ; "  though  her  countenance, 
when  he  saw  her,  exhibited  traces  of  early  trouble  and  disease.7  But  what- 
ever she  had  lost  in  personal  attractions  was  fully  made  up  by  those  of  the 
mind.  She  was  quick  of  apprehension,  and,  like  her  younger  sister,  Elizabeth, 
was  mistress  of  several  languages,  three  of  which,  the  French,  Spanish,  and 
Latin,  she  could  speak, — the  last  with  fluency.8  But  in  these  accomplishments 
she  was  surpassed  by  her  sister,  who  knew  the  Greek  well,  and  could  speak 
Italian  with  ease  and  elegance.  Mary,  however,  both  spoke  and  wrote  her 
own  language  in  a  plain,  straightforward  manner,  that  forms  a  contrast  to  the 
ambiguous  phrase  and  cold  conceits  in  which  Elizabeth  usually  conveyed,  or 
rather  concealed,  her  sentiments. 

Mary  had  the  misfortune  to  labour  under  a  chronic  infirmity  which  con- 
fined her  for  weeks,  and  indeed  months,  of  every  year  to  her  chamber,  and 
which,  with  her  domestic  troubles,  gave  her  an  air  of  melancholy  that  in  later 
years  settled  into  a  repulsive  austerity.  The  tones  of  her  voice  were  mascu- 
line, says  the  Venetian,  and  her  eyes  inspired  a  feeling  not  merely  of  rever- 
ence, but  of  fear,  wherever  she  turned  them.  Her  spirit,  he  adds,  was  lofty 
and  magnanimous,  never  discomposed  by  danger,  snowing  in  ah1  things  a 
blood  truly  royal.9 

Her  piety, 'he  continues,  and  her  patience  under  affliction,  cannot  be  too 
greatly  admired.  Sustained  as  she  was  by  a  lively  faith  and  conscious  inno- 
cence, he  compares  her  to  a  light  which  the  fierce  winds  have  no  power  to 
extinguish,  but  which  still  shines  on  with  increasing  lustre.10  She  waited  her 

8  "  Si  come  servi  et  sudditi  son  quelli  che  v*  di  cinque  lingue,  le  quali  non  solo  intende, 

intervengono,    CORI    servi  et  sudditi    son   1"  ma  quattro  ne  parla  speditamente ;    qui-sti 

attlone  che  si  trattano  in  essi."    Kelatione  di  sono  oltre  la  sua  materna  et  naturale  inglese, 

Gio.  Micheli,  MS.  la  frauzese,  la  spagnola,  et  1'  italiana."    Ibid., 

7  "  E  donna  di  rtatura  pircola,  piu  presta  MS.     . 

che  mediocre ;  e  di  persona  magra  et  delicata,  9  "  E  in  tutto  coragiosa,  et  cosi  resoluta. 

dissimile  in  tutto  al  padre,  che  fu  grande  et  che  per  nessuna  adversita,   ne  per  nessun 

grosso ;  et  alia  madre,  che  se  non  era  grande  pericolo  nel  qual  si  sia  i  itrovata,  non  ha  mai 

era  pero  massiccia;  et  ben  format  a  di  faccia,  pur  mostrato,  non  che  coinmesso  atto  alcuno 

perquel  che  mostrnno  le  f:\ttezze  et  li  linea-  di  viltanedi  pusillanimita;  hasempre  tenuta 

menti  che  si  veggono  da  i  ritratti,  quando  era  una  grandezza  et  dignita  mirabile,  cosi  ben 

piu  giovane,  non  pur'  tenuta  honesta,  ma  piu  conusccndo  quel  che  si  convenga  al  decorodel 

che  mediocremento  bella;  al   presente  se  li  Re,  come  il  piu  consummate  consigliero  che 

scoprono  qualche  cre-pe,  causate  piu  da  gli  ella  habbia;    in  tanto  che  dal  procedere,  et 

afTanni  che  dall'  eta.  che  la  mostrano  attem-  dulle  m^niereche  ha  tenuto,  et  tiene  tuttavia, 

pata  di  qualche  anni  di  piu."     Ibid.,  MS.  non  si  puo  negare,  che  non  mostri  d'  esser  nata 

•  "Quanto  seli  potesse  levaredellebellezze  di  sangue  veram-nte  real."     Ibid.,  MS. 

del  corpo,  tanto  con  verita,  et  senza  adula-  '°  "  Delia  qual  humilita,  pieta,  et  religion 

tione,   se   li   puo    agginnger'    di  quelle  del  sua,  non  occorre  ragionare,  ne  rendeme  testi- 

animo,  perche  oltra  la  felicita  et  accortezza  monio,  percheson  datutti  non  solo  con osciute, 

del  ingegno,  atto  in  capir  tutto  quel  che  possa  ma  sommamente  predicate  con  le  prove.  .  .  . 

ciascun  altro,  <lico  fuor  del  sesso  suo  quel  che  Fosse  rome   un    debol    lurne  combattuto  da 

in  una  donna  parera  inaraviglioso,  e  instrutta  gran  vcnti  per  estinguerlo  d  .1  tutto,  ma  sem- 


CHARACTER  OF  MARY.  33 

time,  and  was  plainly  reserved  by  Providence  for  a  great  destiny.  We  are 
reading  the  language  of  the  loyal  Catholic,  grateful  for  the  services  which 
Mary  had  rendered  to  the  faith. 

Yet  it  would  be  uncharitable  not  to  believe  that  Mary  was  devout,  and 
most  earnest  in  her  devotion.  The  daughter  of  Katharine  of  Aragon,  the 
granddaughter  of  Isabella  of  Castile,  could  hardly  have  been  otherwise.  The 
women  of  that  royal  line  were  uniformly  conspicuous  for  their  piety,  though 
this  was  top  often  tinctured  with  bigotry.  In  Mary,  bigotry  degenerated 
into  fanaticism,  and  fanaticism  into  the  spirit  of  persecution.  The  worst 
evils  are  probably  those  that  have  flowed  from  fanaticism.  Yet  the  amount 
of  the  mischief  does  not  necessarily  furnish  us  with  the  measure  of  guilt  in 
the  author  of  it.  The  introduction  of  the  Inquisition  into  Spain  must  be 
mainly  charged  on  Isabella.  Yet  the  student  of  her  reign  will  not  refuse  to 
this  great  queen  the  praise  of  tenderness  of  conscience  and  a  sincere  desire 
to  do  the  right.  Unhappily,  the  faith  in  which  she,  as  well  as  her  royal 
granddaughter,  was  nurtured,  taught  her  to  place  her  conscience  in  the  keep- 
ing of  ministers  less  scrupulous  than  herself ;  and  on  those  ministers  may 
fairly  rest  much  of  the  responsibility  of  measures  on  which  they  only  were 
deemed  competent  to  determine. 

Mary's  sincerity  in  her  religious  professions  was  placed  beyond  a  doubt 
by  the  readiness  with  which  she  submitted  to  the  sacrifice  of  her  personal 
interests  whenever  the  interests  of  religion  seemed  to  demand  it.  She  burned 
her  translation  of  a  portion  of  Erasmus,  prepared  with  great  labour,  at  the 
suggestion  of  her  confessor.  An  author  will  readily  estimate  the  value  of 
such  a  sacrifice.  One  more  important,  and  intelligible  to  all,  was  the  resolute 
manner  in  which  she  persisted  in  restoring  the  Church  property  which  had 
been  confiscated  to  the  use  of  the  crown.  "The  crown  is  too  much  im- 
poverished to  admit  of  it,"  remonstrated  her  ministers.  "  I  would  rather  lose 
ten  crowns,"  replied  the  high-minded  queen,  "  than  place  my  soul  in  peril."  " 

Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  Mary  nad  inherited  in  full  measure  some  of 
the  sterner  qualities  of  her  father,  and  that  she  was  wanting  in  that  sympathy 
for  human  suffering  which  is  so  graceful  in  a  woman.  After  a  rebellion,  the 
reprisals  were  terrible.  London  was  converted  into  a  charnel-house ;  and 
the  squares  and  principal  streets  were  garnished  with  the  unsightly  trophies 
of  the  heads  and  limbs  of  numerous  victims  who  had  fallen  by  the  hand  of 
the  executioner.12  This  was  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  age.  But 
the  execution  of  the  unfortunate  Lady  Jane  Grey — the  young,  the  beautiful, 
and  the  good— leaves  a  blot  on  the  fame  of  Mary  which  finds  no  parallel  but 
in  the  treatment  of  the  ill-fated  queen  of  Scots  by  Elizabeth. 

Mary's  treatment  of  Elizabeth  has  formed  another  subject  of  reproach, 
though  the  grounds  of  it  are  not  sufficiently  made  out ;  and.  at  all  events, 
many  circumstances  may  be  alleged  in  extenuation  of  her  conduct.  She  had 
seen  her  mother,  the  noble-minded  Katharine,  exposed  to  the  most  cruel 
indignities  and  compelled  to  surrender  her  bed  and  her  throne  to  an  artful 
rival,  the  mother  of  Elizabeth.  She  had  heard  herself  declared  illegitimate, 
ami  her  right  to  the  succession  set  aside  in  favour  of  her  younger  sister. 
Even  after  her  intrepid  conduct  had  secured  to  her  the  crown,  she  was  still 
haunted  by  the  same  gloomy  apparition.  Elizabeth's  pretensions  were  con- 
stantly brought  before  the  public  ;  and  Mary  might  well  be  alarmed  by  the 

pre  tcnuto  vivo,  et  difeso  dellaRua  Innooentla  "    Burnct,    History    of   the    Reformation 

et  viva  Cede,  accloche  havetwe  a  rUplender  uel        (Oxford,  1S16).  vol.  II.  part  II.  p.  657. 
tn.-l'i    cbe    bora    fa."      Itelatiuue    di    Uio.  "  Slrype,  Memorials  (.London,  1721),  vol. 

Micueli,  MS.  lit.  p.  03. 

D 


34  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

disclosure  of  conspiracy  after  conspiracy,  the  object  of  which,  it  was  rumoured, 
was  to  seat  her  sister  on  the  throne.  As  she  advanced  in  years,  Mary  had 
the  further  mortification  of  seeing  her  rival  gain  on  those  affections  of  the 

Eeople  which  had  grown  cool  to  her.  Was  it  wonderful  that  she  should  regard 
er  sister,  under  these  circumstances,  with  feelings  of  distrust  and  aversion  ? 
That  she  did  so  regard  her  is  asserted  by  the  Venetian  minister ;  and  it  is 
plain  that  during  the  first  years  of  Mary  s  reign  Elizabeth's  life  hung  upon 
a  thread.  Yet  Mary  had  strength  of  principle  sufficient  to  resist  the  im- 
portunities of  Charles  the  Fifth  and  his  ambassador  to  take  the  life  of  Eliza- 
beth, as  a  thing  indispensable  to  her  own  safety  and  that  of  Philip.  Although 
her  sister  was  shown  to  be  privy,  though  not  openly  accessory,  to  the  rebellion 
under  Wyatt,  Mary  would  not  constrain  the  law  from  its  course  to  do  her 
violence.  This  was  something,  under  the  existing  circumstances,  in  an  age 
so  unscrupulous.  After  this  storm  had  passed  over,  Mary,  whatever  restraint 
she  imposed  on  her  real  feelings,  treated  Elizabeth,  for  the  most  part,  with 
a  show  of  kindness,  though  her  name  still  continued  to  be  mingled,  whether 
with  or  without  cause,  with  more  than  one  treasonable  plot.1*  Mary's  last 
act— perhaps  the  only  one  in  which  she  openly  resisted  the  will  of  her  hus- 
band— was  to  refuse  to  compel  her  sister  to  accept  the  hand  of  Philibert  of 
Savoy.  Yet  this  act  would  have  relieved  her  of  the  presence  of  her  rival ; 
and  by  it  Elizabeth  would  have  forfeited  her  independent  possession  of  the 
crown, — perhaps  the  possession  of  it  altogether.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
Elizabeth,  under  similar  circumstances,  would  have  shown  the  like  tenderness 
to  the  interests  of  her  successor. 

But,  however  we  may  be  disposed  to  extenuate  the  conduct  of  Mary,  and 
in  spiritual  matters,  more  especially,  to  transfer  the  responsibility  of  her  acts 
from  herself  to  her  advisers,  it  is  not  possible  to  dwell  on  this  reign  of  religious 
persecution  without  feelings  of  profound  sadness.  Not  that  the  number  of 
victims  compares  with  what  is  recorded  of  many  similar  periods  of  persecution. 
The  whole  amount,  falling  probably  short  of  three  hundred  who  perished  at 
the  stake,  was  less  than  the  number  who  fell  by  the  hand  of  the  executioner, 
or  by  violence,  during  the  same  length  of  time  under  Henry  the  Eighth.  It 
was  not  much  greater  than  might  be  sometimes  found  at  a  single  Spanish 
auto  defe.  But  Spain  was  the  land  in  which  this  might  be  regarded  as  the 
national  spectacle, — as  much  so  as  the  fiesta  de  toros,  or  any  other  of  the 
popular  exhibitions  of  the  country.  In  England,  a  few  examples  had  not 
sufficed  to  steel  the  hearts  of  men  against  these  horrors.  The  heroic  company 
of  martyrs,  condemned  to  the  most  agonizing  of  deaths  for  asserting  the 
rights  of  conscience,  was  a  sight  strange  and  shocking  to  Englishmen.  The 
feelings  of  that  day  have  been  perpetuated  to  the  present.  The  reign  of 
religious  persecution  stands  out  by  itself,  as  something  distinct  from  the 
natural  course  of  events ;  and  the  fires  of  Smithfield  shed  a  melancholy 
radiance  over  this  page  of  the  national  history,  from  which  the  eye  of  hu- 
manity turns  away  in  pity  and  disgust.  But  it  is  time  to  take  up  the  narra- 
tive of  events  which  connected  for  a  brief  space  the  political  interests  of  Spain 
with  those  of  England. 

Charles  the  Fifth  had  always  taken  a  lively  interest  in  the  fortunes  of  his 
royal  kinswoman.  When  a  young  man,  he  had  paid  a  visit  to  England,  and 
while  there  had  been  induced  by  his  aunt,  Queen  Katharine,  to  contract  a 

"  "  Nun  si  scopri   mal   congiura  alcuna,  sorte  d'  humanitii  et  d'  honore,  ne  mai  pli 

nella  quale,  o  giusta  o  ingiustamente,  ella  non  parla,  se  noil  di  cose  piacevole."    Relatione  di 

t-i.i  nominata.  .  .  .  Ma  la  KeginaHlbrzuquando  Uio.  Miclic-li,  M.S. 
•ono  insieroe  di  riceverla  in  publico  con  ogni 


PHILIP'S  PROPOSALS  OF  MARRIAGE.  35 

marriage  with  the  Princess  Mary, — then  only  six  years  old, — to  be  solemnized 
on  her  arriving  at  the  suitable  age.  But  the  term  was  too  remote  for  the 
constancy  of  Charles,  or,  as  it  is  said,  for  the  patience  of  his  subjects,  who 
earnestly  wished  to  see  their  sovereign  wedded  to  a  princess  who  might  present 
him  with  an  heir  to  the  monarchy.  The  English  match  was,  accordingly, 
broken  off,  and  the  young  emperor  gave  his  hand  to  Isabella  of  Portugal.11 

Mary,  who,  since  her  betrothal,  had  been  taught  to  consider  herself  as  the 
future  bride  of  the  emperor,  was  at  the  time  but  eleven  years  old.  She  was 
old  enough,  however,  to  feel  something  like  jealousy,  it  is  said,  and  to  show 
some  pique  at  this  desertion  by  her  imperial  lover.  Yet  this  circumstance 
did  not  prevent  the  most  friendly  relations  from  subsisting  between  the  parties 
in  after-years  ;  and  Charles  continued  to  watch  over  the  interests  of  his  kins- 
woman, and  interposed  with  good  effect  in  her  behalf  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion, both  during  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth  and  of  his  son,  Edward  the 
Sixth.  On  the  death  of  the  latter  monarch  he  declared  himself  ready  to  assist 
Mary  in  maintaining  her  right  to  the  succession  ; "  and  when  this  was  finally 
established  the  wary  emperor  took  the  necessary  measures  for  turning  it  to 
his  own  account." 

He  formed  a  scheme  for  uniting  Philip  with  Mary,  and  thus  securing  to  his 
son  the  possession  of  the  English  crown,  in  the  same  manner  as  that  of  Scot- 
land had  been  secured  by  marriage  to  the  son  of  his  rival,  Henry  the  Second 
of  France.  It  was,  doubtless,  a  great  error  to  attempt  to  bring  under  one 
rule  nations  so  dissimilar  in  every  particular  and  having  interests  so  incom- 
patible as  the  Spaniards  and  the  English.  Historians  have  regarded  it  as 
passing  strange  that  a  prince  who  had  had  such  large  experience  of  the  diffi- 
culties attending  the  government  of  kingdoms  remote  from  each  other  should 
seek  so  to  multiply  these  difficulties  on  the  head  of  his  inexperienced  son. 
But  the  love  of  acquisition  is  a  universal  principle ;  nor  is  it  often  found  that 
the  appetite  for  more  is  abated  by  the  consideration  that  the  party  is  already 
possessed  of  more  than  he  can  manage. 

It  was  a  common  opinion  that  Mary  intended  to  bestow  her  hand  on  her 
young  and  handsome  kinsman,  Courtenay,  earl  of  Devonshire,  whom  she  had 
withdrawn  from  the  prison  in  which  he  had  languished  for  many  years, 
and  afterwards  treated  with  distinguished  favour.  Charles,  aware  of  this, 
instructed  Renard,  his  minister  at  the  court  of  London,  a  crafty,  intriguing 

14  Hall,  Chronicle  (London,  1809),  pp.  692,  the  emperor's  name,  respecting  the  govern- 

Tll. — Sepulvedse  Opera,  vol.   11.   pp.   46-4H.  mentofher  kingdom,  directs  him  to  hint  to 

— Sepulveda's  account  of  the  reign  of  Mary  her  that  the  time  had  come  when  it  would  be 

becomes  of  the  more  authority  from  the  fact  well  for  the  queen  to  provide  herself  with  a 

that  he  submitted  thin  portion  of  his  history  husband,  and  if  bis  advice  could  be  of  any  use 

to  the  revision  of  Cardinal  Pole,  aa  we  learn  in  the  affair,  she  was  entirely  welcome  to  it : 

from   one  of  bis   ep.stUs   to   that  prelate.  "  Kt  aussy  lui  dlrez-vous  qu'il  sera  besoin  qnc 

Opera,  torn.  iii.  p.  30;i.  pour  etre  soustenue  audit  royaulme,  euiparee 

"  Yet  the  emperor  seems  to  have  written  ct  deffendue,  mesmes  en  choices  que  ne  sont 

In  a  somewhat  diffeient  style  to  hla  auibansa-  dc  la  profession  de  dames,  II  sera  tres-requis 

dor  at  the  English  court:  ••Dcsfalliant  la  force  que  tort  rile  prcime  party  de  marialge  avec 

pour  donner  assistance  a  no«trc-di<-te  contine  qul  II  luy  semblcra  estrc  plus  convenablr, 

comme   aussy  vous    server,  qu'elle  deffault  tenant  regard  a  ce  que  densus ;  et  que  x'il  lui 

pour  Onipeochement  que  Ton  nous  doune  du  platt  nous  falre  part  avant  que  t«'y  determiner, 

omsiel   de   France,   noun    ne  veons  aulcun  nous   IP   fauldrons  de  avec   la  sincerite  de 

apparent  moyeii  |>our  asshrurer  In  personne  raRertion  <iue  lui  portons,  luy  falre  entendre 

de  n»Htre-dicU>  cousin*."     1/Krapereur  a  sea  liberalement,  snr  cc  qu'elle  voudra  roettre  en 

Aint>.m*«<i.'urs  en  Anglelerre,  11  juillet.  1553,  nvant,  nostre  advU,  et  de  1'ayder  et  favorlwr 

I'api-T-  d'P/at  de  Oranvelle,  torn.  iv.  p.  25.  en  ce  qu'elle  se  determine™.       L'I'Jnpereura 

'"  Charles,  In  a  letter  to  his  aml«a>*ador  In  scs  Ambawadenrs  en  Anglrterre,  22  Juillrt, 

L"inlmi.dat«Uuly  2211-1. 1553,  after  much  g"o.l  1553,  I'apicrs  d'fitat  de  Orauvelle,.  torn.  Iv. 
counsel  which  he  was  to  give  Queen  Mary,  in 


36  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

politician,17  to  sound  the  queen's  inclinations  on  the  subject,  but  so  as  not  to 
alarm  her.  He  was  to  dwell  particularly  on  the  advantages  Mary  would 
derive  from  a  connection  with  some  powerful  foreign  prince,  and  to  offer  his 
master's  counsel  in  this  or  any  other  matter  in  which  she  might  desire  it.  The 
minister  was  to  approach  the  subject  of  the  earl  of  Devonshire  with  the 
greatest  caution  ;  remembering  that  if  the  queen  had  a  fancy  for  her  cousin, 
and  was  like  other  women,  she  would  not  be  turned  from  it  by  anything  that 
he  might  say,  nor  would  she  readily  forgive  any  reflection  upon  it"  Charles 
seems  to  have  been  as  well  read  in  the  characters  of  women  as  of  men,  and, 
as  a  natural  consequence,  it  may  be  added,  had  formed  a  high  estimate  of  the 
capacity  of  the  sex.  In  proof  of  which,  he  not  only  repeatedly  committed  the 
government  of  his  states  to  women,  but  intrusted  them  with  some  of  his  most 
delicate  political  negotiations. 

Mary,  if  she  had  ever  entertained  the  views  imputed  to  her  in  respect  to 
Courtenay,  must  have  soon  been  convinced  that  his  frivolous  disposition 
would  ill  suit  the  seriousness  of  hers.  However  this  may  be,  she  was  greatly 
pleased  when  Renard  hinted  at  her  marriage, — "  laughing,"  says  the  envoy, 
"  not  once,  but  several  times,  and  giving  me  a  significant  look,  which  showed 
that  the  idea  was  very  agreeable  to  her,  plainly  intimating  at  the  same  time 
that  she  had  no  desire  to  marry  an  Englishman."  "  In  a  subsequent  con- 
versation, when  Renard  ventured  to  suggest  that  the  prince  of  Spain  was  a 
suitable  match,  Mary  broke  in  upon  him,  saying  that  "  she  had  never  felt  the 
smart  of  what  people  called  love,  nor  had  ever  so  much  as  thought  of  being 
married,  until  Providence  had  raised  her  to  the  throne,  and  that,  if  she  now 
consented  to  it,  it  would  be  in  opposition  to  her  own  feelings,  from  a  regard  to 
the  public  good ; "  but  she  begged  the  envoy  to  assure  the  emperor  of  her  wish 
to  obey  and  to  please  him  in  everything,  as  she  would  her  own  father  ;  inti- 
mating, however,  that  she  could  not  broach  the  subject  of  her  marriage  to 
her  council :  the  question  could  only  be  opened  by  a  communication  from 
him." 

Charles,  who  readily  saw  through  Mary's  coquetry,  no  longer  hesitated  to 
prefer  the  suit  of  Philip.  After  commending  the  queen's  course  in  regard  to 
Courtenay,  he  presented  to  her  the  advantages  that  must  arise  from  such  a 
foreign  alliance  as  would  strengthen  her  on  the  throne.  He  declared,  in  a 
tone  of  gallantry  rather  amusing,  that  if  it  were  not  for  his  age  and  increasing 

"  Granvelle,  who  owed  no  good  will  to  the  sieurs  foys,  me  regardant  d'un  ceil  slgnifiant 
minister  for  the  part  which  be  afterwards  took  1'ouverture  luy  estre  fort  aggreable,  me  don- 
in  the  troubles  of  Flanders,  frequently  puns  nant  asse/  a  cognoistre  qu'elle  ne  taicboit  ou 
on  Renard's  name,  wnich  he  seems  to  have  deslroit  mariaigc  d'Anglc-terre."  Uenard  a 
thought  altogether  significant  of  his  character.  I'JSvOque  d'Airas,  15  aoiit,  1553,  Ibid.,  p.  7H. 

"  "Quant  a  Cortenay,  vous  ponrriez  bien  '•""  "Et,  sans  attendre  la  fin  de  ces  propoz. 

dire,  pour  eviter  au  propoz  mencionne  en  voz  ella  jura  quo  jamais  elle  n'avoit  senti  esguil  Ion 

lettres,  que  Ton  en  parle,  pour  veoir  ce  quVlle  de  o-  que  Ton  appelle  amor,  ny  entre  en  pense- 

dira;  mais  gardez-vous  de  luy  tout  desfaire  et  ment  de  vohipte,  et  qu'elle  n'avoit  jiimais 

mesnips  qu'elle  n'aye  descouvert  plus  avaut  pcnse  a  marialge  sinon  depuys  que  a  pleu  a 

son  intention  ;  car  si  elle  y  avoit  fantasie,  elle  Dieu  la  promovoira  lacouronne,  et  quecclluy 

ne  layroit  (si  elle  est  du  naturel  des  anltres  qu'elle  fera  sera  coi  tre  sa  propre  affection, 

femmes)  de  passer  oultre,  et  si  se  ressentiroit  pour  le  respect  do  la  chose  publicque;  qu'elle 

a  jamais  de  ce  que  vous  luy  en  pounce's  avoir  se  tient  toute  assuree  sa  majeste  aura  con- 

dit.  Bien  luy  pourries-vous  toucher  d<-s  com-  sideration  a  ce  qu'elle  m'a  diet  et  qu'elle 

moditez  plus  grandes  que  pourroit  recepvoir  desire  1'obeir  et  coinplaire  en  tout  et  par  tout 

de  mariaige  estrangier,  sans  trop  toucher  a  la  comme  eon  propre  pere ;  qu'elle  n'oseroit 

personne  on  elle  pourroit  avoir  affection."  entrer  en  propoz  de  mariaige  avec  ceulx  de 

L'fiveque  d'Arras  a  Renard,  14  aout,  1553,  son  conseil,  que  fault,  le  cas  advenant,  quo 

Papiers  d'fitai  de  Granvelle,  torn.  iv.  p.  77.  vienne  de  la  meute  de  sa  majeste."  Re- 

'*  "Quant  je  luy  fiz  1'ouverture  de  mariaige,  nard  a  1'Eveque  d'Arras,  8  septemlre,  1553, 

elle  se  priut  a  rire,  non  une  foys  aius  plu-  Ibid.,  p.  98. 


PHILIP'S  PROPOSALS  OF  MARRIAGE. 


infirmities  he  should  not  hesitate  to  propose  himself  as  her  suitor.*1  The 
next  best  thing  was  to  offer  her  the  person  dearest  to  his  heart, — his  son,  the 
prince  of  Asturias.  He  concluded  by  deprecating  the  idea  that  any  recom- 
mendation of  his  should  interfere  in  the  least  degree  with  the  exercise  of  her 
better  judgment.*1 

Renard  was  further  to  intimate  to  the  queen  the  importance  of  secrecy  in 
regard  to  this  negotiation.  If  she  were  disinclined  to  the  proposed  match,  it 
would  be  obviously  of  no  advantage  to  give  it  publicity.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  as  the  emperor  had  little  doubt,  she  looked  on  it  favourably,  but  desired 
to  advise  with  her  council  before  deciding,  Renard  was  to  dissuade  her  from 
the  latter  step  and  advise  her  to  confide  in  him.**  The  wary  emperor  had  a 
twofold  motive  for  these  instructions.  There  was  a  negotiation  on  foot  at  this 
very  time  for  a  marriage  of  Philip  to  the  infanta  of  Portugal,  and  Charles 
wished  to  be  entirely  assured  of  Mary's  acquiescence  before  giving  such  publi- 
city to  the  affair  as  might  defeat  the  Portuguese  match,  which  would  still 
remain  for  Philip  should  he  not  succeed  with  the  English  queen.24  In  case 
Mary  proved  favourable  to  his  son's  suit,  Charles,  who  knew  the  abhorrence  in 
which  foreigners  were  held  by  the  English  beyond  all  other  nations,*4  wished 
to  gain  time  before  communicating  with  Mary's  council.  With  some  delay, 
he  had  no  doubt  that  he  had  the  means  of  winning  over  a  sufficient  number  of 
that  body  to  support  Philip's  pretensions.*' 


»'  "  Vous  la  pourrer  asseurer  que,  si  nous 
estions  en  eaige  et  disposition  telle  qu'il  con- 
viendroit,  et  que  jugissions  que  de  ce  pout 
redonder  le  foien  de  ses  affaires,  nous  ne  voul- 
drions  clioysir  aultre  party  en  ce  monde  plug 
tost  que  de  nous  alier  nous-inosmes  avec  elle, 
et  scroll  bien  celle  que  nous  pourroit  donner 
anrtant  de  satisfaction."  L'Empereur  a  Re- 
nard, 20  septembre,  1553,  Papiers  d'Etat  de 
Ornnvelle,  torn.  iv.  p.  112. 

"  Ibid.,  pp.  108-116.— Simon  ttenard,  the 
imperial  ambassador  at  this  time  at  the 
English  court,  waft  a  native  of  Franche- 
Cointe.  and  hold  the  oflice  of  mailre  aux 
reqiuUM  in  the  household  of  the  enipiTor. 
Kenard,  though  a  man  of  a  factious  turn,  was 
what  Granvelle's  correspondent,  Morillon, 
calls  "  «n  Inn  politique,"  and  in  many 
respects  well  suited  to  the  mission  on  which 
be  was  employed.  His  correspondence  i -  of 
infinite  value,  as  showing  the  Spanish  moves 
in  this  complicated  game,  which  ended  in  the 
marriage  of  Mary  with  the  h  ir  ..f  the  Oa-tlllan 
monarchy.  I(  is  preserved  in  the  archives  of 
P.nn-i.-N.  Copies  of  these  M-iS..  amounting 
to  flve  volumes  folio  wen-  to  be  found  in  the 
collection  of  Cardinal  Granvelle  at  liesancon. 
A  part  nf  them  was  lent  to  (JrilM  for  the 
compilation  of  his  "  Nouveanx  fi  laircisse- 
in. -us  «ur  I'Hi-tolre  de  Marie  R  -Ine  d'Angle- 
terre."  Unfortunately,  Griffct  omitted  to 
restore  tli  •  M.SS. ;  and  an  hiatus  is  thus 
occasioned  In  the  series  of  the  Renard  corre- 
spondence embraced  in  the  Granvelle  |capiTs 
now  in  process  of  puMicaMon  by  the  French 
government.  It  were  to  lie  wished  that  this 
hiatii^  had  been  supplied  from  the  original*, 
in  Uie  archives  of  Brussels.  Mr.  Tytlcr  has 
done  good  service  by  giving  to  the  world  a 
•election  from  the  latter  part  of  Kenard's 


correspondence,  which  had  been  transcribed 
by  order  of  the  Recor.l  Commission  from  the 
MSS.  in  Brussels. 

"  •'  Car  si,  quant  a  soy,  il  luy  semble  estre 
cbose  que  ne  luy  convtut  ou  ne  filt  fjjsable, 
il  ne  seroit  a  pmpoz,  comme  elle  1'eutend 
tres-bien,  d'en  faire  declaracion  a  qui  que  ce 
eoit ;  mats,  en  cas  aussi  qu'elle  jugea  le  party 
luy  estre  convenable  et  qu'elle  y  print  incli- 
naclon,  si,  a  son  advis,  la  difficulte  tuinlia 
Bur  les  moyens,  et  que  en  iceulx  elle  ne  se 
pent  rdsoldre  ,-ans  la  participation  d'aulcuns 
de  son  consoil,  vous  la  ponrriez  en  ce  cas 
requerir  qu'elle  voulsit  prendre  de  vous  con- 
fiance  pour  vous  declairer  a  qui  elle  en 
vouldroit  tenir  propoz,  et  ce  qu'elle  en  voul- 
droit  communicquer  et  par  quelz  moyens." 
L'Kmpereur  a  Renard,  20  septembre,  1553, 
Papiers  d'EUt  de  Granvelle,  torn.  iv.  p. 
114. 

"  The  Spanish  match  seems  to  have  been 
as  distasteful  to  the  Portuguese  as  it  was  to  the 
English,  and  probably  for  much  the  same 
reasons.  See  the  letter  of  Granvelle,  of 
August  14th,  1553,  Ibid.,  p.  77. 

•^  "  Les  estrangiers,  qu'ilz  abhorrissent 
plus  que  nulle  aultre  nacion."  L'Empereur 
a  Renard.  20  septembre,  1553,  Ibid.,  p.  113. 

••  "Et  si  la  difficult^  se  trcuvoit  aux  d>n- 
selllers  pour  leur  Inte'reU  particulier,  comme 
plus  il/.  H..nt  int'-resse/,  il  pourroit  e.-tre  que 
I'tin  auroit  meilleur  moyen  de  les  gaitnier, 
Ansbfurant  ceulx  par  le  moyeti  denquelz  la 
chose  se  pourroit  conduyre,  des  principaulx 
offices  et  charges  dudlct  royaulme,  voyre  ct 
1  in  ofTrant  appartsommesnoiablesdedenleis 
on  accroissance  de  renU's.  privilege*  et  prero- 
gatives." L'Knipen-ur  a  Renard,  20  septem- 
bre, 16(3,  Ibid.,  toe.  clt. 


38  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

These  communications  could  not  be  carried  on  so  secretly  but  that  some 
rumour  of  them  reached  the  ears  of  Mary's  ministers,  and  of  Noailles,  the 
French  ambassador  at  the  court  of  London.27  This  person  was  a  busy  and 
unscrupulous  politician,  who  saw  with  alarm  the  prospect  of  Spain  strengthen- 
ing herself  by  this  alliance  with  England,  and  determined,  accordingly,  in 
obedience  to  instructions  from  home,  to  use  every  effort  to  defeat  it.  The 
queen's  ministers,  with  the  chancellor,  Gardiner,  bishop  of  Winchester,  at 
their  head,  felt  a  similar  repugnance  to  the  Spanish  match.  The  name  of  the 
Spaniards  had  become  terrible  from  the  remorseless  manner  in  which  their 
wars  had  been  conducted  during  the  present  reign,  especially  in  the  New 
World.  The  ambition  and  the  widely-extended  dominions  of  Charles  the 
Fifth  made  him  the  most  formidable  sovereign  in  Europe.  The  English 
looked  with  apprehension  on  so  close  an  alliance  with  a  prince  who  had  shown 
too  little  regard  for  the  liberties  of  his  own  land  to  make  it  probable  that  he 
or  his  son  would  respect  those  of  another.  Above  all,  they  dreaded  the  fana- 
ticism of  the  Spaniards  ;  and  the  gloomy  spectre  of  the  Inquisition  moving  in 
their  train  made  even  the  good  Catholic  shudder  at  the  thought  of  the  miseries 
that  might  ensue  from  this  ill-omened  union. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Noailles  and  the  chancellor  to  communicate  their  own 
distrust  to  the  members  of  the  parliament,  then  in  session.  A  petition  to  the 
queen  was  voted  in  the  lower  house,  in  which  the  commons  preferred  an 
humble  request  that  she  would  marry  for  the  good  of  the  realm,  but  besought 
her,  at  the  same  time,  not  to  go  abroad  for  her  husband,  but  to  select  him 
among  her  own  subjects.28 

Mary's  ministers  did  not  understand  her  character  so  well  as  Charles  the 
Fifth  did  when  he  cautioned  his  agent  not  openly  to  thwart  her.  Opposition 
only  fixed  her  more  strongly  in  her  original  purpose.  In  a  private  interview 
with  Renard,  she  told  him  that  she  was  apprised  of  Gardiner's  intrigues,  and 
that  Noailles,  too,  was  doing  the  impossible  to  prevent  her  union  with  Pnilip. 
"  But  I  will  be  a  match  for  them,"  she  added.  Soon  after,  taking  the  ambas- 
sador, at  midnight,  into  her  oratory,  she  knelt  before  the  host,  and,  having 
repeated  the  hymn  Veni  Creator,  solemnly  pledged  herself  to  take  no  other 
man  for  her  husband  than  the  prince  of  Spam.** 

This  proceeding  took  place  on  the  thirtieth  of  October.  On  the  seventeenth 
of  the  month  following,  the  commons  waited  on  the  queen  at  her  palace  of 
Whitehall,  to  which  she  was  confined  by  indisposition,  and  presented  their 
address.  Mary,  instead  of  replying  by  her  chancellor,  as  was  usual,  answered 

"  In  order  to  carry  on  the  negotiation  with  "  "  Pour  la  reqnerir  et  supplier  d'esllre  ting 
greater  secrecy,  Renard's  colleagues  at  the  seigneur  de  son  pays  pour  estre  POM  mary,  et 
English  court,  who  were  found  to  intermeddle  ne  vouloir  prendre  personnaige  en  mariaige, 
somewhat  unnecessarily  with  the  business,  ny  leur  donner  prince  qui  leur  puisse  corn- 
were  recalled;  and  the  whole  affair  was  in-  mander  aultre  que  de  sa  nation."  Ambas- 
trusted  exclusively  to  that  envoy,  and  to  sades  de  Nouilles  (Leyde,  1763),  torn.  ii.  p. 
(iranvelle,  the  bishop  of  Arras,  who  com-  234. 

municated  to  him  the  views  of  the  emperor  w  "  Le  soir  du  30  octobre,  la  reine  fit  venlr 

from   Brussels:    "  Et  s'est  resolu  tant  plus  en  sa  chambre,  ou  etoit  expose  le  saint  sacre- 

1'empereur  rapprler  voz  collegues,  afln  que  ment,  1'ambassadeur  de  I'empereur,  et,  apres 

aulcung  d'icenlx  ne  vous  y  traversa  ou  bien  avoir  dit  le   Veni  creator,  lui  dit  qu'elle  lui 

einppscha,  s'y  estans  montrez  peu  affection-  donnoit  en  face  tludit  sacrement  sa  promesse 

nez  et  pour  non  si  bien  entendre  le  cours  de  d'epouser  le  prince  d'Espagne,  laquelle  elle 

ces'e  n^gociation,   et  pour   aussi   que    vous  ne   changeroit  jam  us ;    qu'elle   avoit    feint 

gardereu  raieulx  le  secret  qu'est  tant  requis  d'etre  mahde  les  deux  jours  precedents,  mais 

et  ne  se  pourroit  faire,  passant  ceste  negocia-  que  sa  maladie  avoit  ete  causee  par  le  travail 

tion  par  i<lusieiirs  mains."     L'fivPqued'Arras  qu'elle  avoit  eu  p"ur  prendre  cetie resolution." 

a  Uenard   13  septembre,  1553,  1'upiere  d'Ktut  MS.  in  tiie  Belgian  archives,  cited  by  Miguel, 

de  Granvelle.  torn.  iv.  p.  103.  Charles-Quint,  p.  78,  note. 


PHILIP'S  PROPOSALS  OF  MARRIAGE.  39 

them  in  person.  She  told  them  that  from  God  she  held  her  crown,  and  that 
to  him  aione  should  she  turn  for  counsel  in  a  matter  so  important ; 30  she  had 
not  yet  made  up  her  mind  to  marry ;  but,  since  they  considered  it  so  necessary 
for  the  weal  of  the  kingdom,  she  would  take  it  into  consideration.  It  was  a 
matter  in  which  no  one  was  so  much  interested  as  herself.  But  they  might 
be  assured  that  in  her  choice  she  would  have  regard  to  the  happiness  of  her 
people  full  as  much  as  to  her  own.  The  commons,  who  had  rarely  the  courage 
to  withstand  the  frown  of  their  Tudor  princes,  professed  themselves  contented 
with  this  assurance ;  and  from  this  moment  opposition  ceased  from  that 
quarter. 

Mary's  arguments  were  reinforced  by  more  conciliatory  but  not  less  effica- 
cious persuasives,  in  the  form  of  gold  crowns,  gold  chains,  and  other  compli- 
ments of  the  like  nature,  which  were  distributed  pretty  liberally  by  the  Spanish 
ambassador  among  the  members  of  her  council* 

In  the  following  December  a  solemn  embassy  left  Brussels  to  wait  on  Mary 
and  tender  her  the  hand  of  Philip.  It  was  headed  by  Lamoial,  Count  Egmont, 
the  Flemish  noble  so  distinguished  in  later  years  by  his  military  achievements, 
and  still  more  by  his  misfortunes.  He  was  attended  by  a  number  of  Flemish 
lords  and  a  splendid  body  of  retainers.  He  landed  in  Kent,  where  the  rumour 
went  abroad  that  it  was  Philip  himself ;  and  so  general  was  the  detestation  of 
the  Spanish  match  among  the  people  that  it  might  have  gone  hard  with  the 
envoy  had  the  mistake  not  been  discovered.  Egmont  sailed  up  the  Thames, 
and  went  ashore  at  Tower  Wharf  on  the  second  of  January,  1554.  He  was 
received  with  all  honour  by  Lord  William  Howard  and  several  of  the  great 
English  nobles,  and  escorted  in  much  state  to  Westminster,  where  his  table 
was  supplied  at  the  charge  of  the  city.  Gardiner  entertained  the  embassy  at 
a  sumptuous  banquet ;  and  the  next  day  Egmont  and  his  retinue  proceeded 
to  Hampton  Court.  "  where  they  had  great  cheer,"  savs  an  old  chronicler, 
"and  hunted  the  deer,  and  were  so  greedy  of  their  destruction  that  they 
gave  them  not  fair  play  for  their  lives  ;  for,"  as  he  peevishly  complains,  "  they 
killed  rag  and  tag,  with  hands  and  swords.  ** 

On  the  twelfth,  the  Flemish  count  was  presented  to  the  queen,  and  tendered 
her  proposals  of  marriage  in  behalf  of  Prince  Philip.  Mary,  who  probably 
thought  she  had  made  advances  enough,  now  assumed  a  more  reserved  air. 
a  It  was  not  for  a  maiden  queen,"  she  said,  "  thus  publicly  to  enter  on  so 
delicate  a  subject  as  her  own  marriage.  This  would  be  better  done  by  her 
ministers,  to  whom  she  would  refer  him.  But  this  she  would  have  him  under- 
stand," she  added,  as  she  cast  her  eyes  on  the  ring  on  her  finger,  "  her  realm 
was  her  first  husband,  and  none  other  should  induce  her  to  violate  the  oath 
which  she  had  pledged  at  her  coronation." 

Notwithstanding  this  prudery  of  Mary,  she  had  already  manifested  such  a 
prepossession  for  her  intended  lord  as  to  attract  the  notice  of  her  courtiers, 
one  of  whom  refers  it  to  the  influence  of  a  portrait  of  Philip,  of  which  she  had 
become  "greatly  enamoured." M  That  such  a  picture  was  sent  to  her  appears 
from  a  letter  of  Philip's  aunt,  the  regent  of  the  Netherlands,  in  which  she 
tells  the  English  queen  that  she  has  sent  her  a  portrait  of  the  prince,  from 

*•  "Qu'elle  tenolt  de  dleu  la  couronnc  de  ward  VI.  and  Mary,  vol.  II.  p.  325. 
eon  royaulme.  et  que  en  luy  seul  esperoit  se  •'•  Strypp,  Memorials,  vol.  ill.  pp.  68,  59. — 

con*eiller  de  chose  si  Important.'."     Ambos-  Hollnshed,  Chronicles  (London,  1808),  vol.  iv. 

a*des  de  Noatllett,  turn.  II.  p.  269.  pp.  10.  34,  41. 

11  "  \jt  dlt  Lieutenant  a  fait  fondre  quatre  •"  Slrype  (Memorial*,  vol.  III.  p.  196),  who 

mil   eacnz  pour  chainee,  et  lea   autrot   mil  quou-s  a  pannage  from  a  MS  of  Sir  Thomas 

•e  repartironten  argent,  comme  I'on  trouvora  Smith,  the  application  of  which,  though  the 

nii.'ulx  convenlr."    Renard,  up.  Tytlcr,  Kl-  queen's  tuunu  la  omitted, canuot  be  mistaken. 


40  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

the  pencil  of  Titian,  which  she  was  to  return  so  soon  as  she  was  in  possession 
of  the  living  original.  It  had  been  taken  some  three  years  before,  she  said, 
and  was  esteemed  a  good  likeness,  though  it  would  be  necessary,  as  in  the 
case  of  other  portraits  by  this  master,  to  look  at  it  from  a  distance  in  order  to 
see  the  resemblance.34 

The  marriage-treaty  was  drawn  up  with  great  circumspection,  under  the 
chancellor's  direction.  It  will  be  necessary  to  notice  only  the  most  important 
provisions.  It  was  stipulated  that  Philip  should  respect  the  laws  of  England, 
and  leave  every  man  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  his  rights  and  immunities.  The 
power  of  conferring  titles,  honours,  emoluments,  and  offices  of  every  descrip- 
tion was  to  be  reserved  to  the  queen.  Foreigners  were  to  be  excluded  from 
office.  The  issue  of  the  marriage,  if  a  son,  was  to  succeed  to  the  English 
crown  and  to  the  Spanish  possessions  in  Burgundy  and  the  Low  Countries. 
But  in  case  of  the  death  of  Don  Carlos,  Philip  s  son,  the  issue  of  the  present 
marriage  was  to  receive,  in  addition  to  the  former  inheritance,  Spain  and  her 
dependencies.  The  queen  was  never  to  leave  her  own  kingdom  without  her 
express  desira  Her  children  were  not  to  be  taken  out  of  it  without  the 
consent  of  the  nobles.  In  case  of  Mary's  death,  Philip  was  not  to  claim  the 
right  of  taking  part  in  the  government  of  the  country.  Further,  it  was  pro- 
vided that  Philip  should  not  entangle  the  nation  in  his  wars  with  France,  but 
should  strive  to  maintain  the  same  amicable  relations  that  now  subsisted 
between  the  two  countries.35 

Such  were  the  cautious  stipulations  of  this  treaty,  which  had  more  the 
aspect  of  a  treaty  for  defence  against  an  enemy  than  a  marriage-contract 
The  instrument  was  worded  with  a  care  that  reflected  credit  on  the  sagacity 
of  its  framers.  All  was  done  that  parchment  could  do  to  secure  the  indepen- 
dence of  the  crown,  as  well  as  the  liberties  of  the  people.  "  But  if  the  bond 
be  violated,"  asked  one  of  the  parliamentary  speakers  on  the  occasion,  "who 
is  there  to  sue  the  bond  ?  "  Every  reflecting  Englishman  must  have  felt  the 
inefficacy  of  any  guarantee  that  could  be  extorted  from  Philip,  who,  once 
united  to  Mary,  would  find  little  difficulty  in  persuading  a  fond  and  obedient 
wife  to  sanction  his  own  policy,  prejudicial  though  it  might  be  to  the  true 
interests  of  the  kingdom. 

No  sooner  was  the  marriage-treaty  made  public  than  the  popular  discontent, 
before  partially  disclosed,  showed  itself  openly  throughout  the  country. 
Placards  were  put  up,  lampoons  were  written,  reviling  the  queen's  ministers 
and  ridiculing  the  Spaniards ;  ominous  voices  were  heard  from  old,  dilapidated 
buildings,  boding  the  ruin  of  the  monarchy.  Even  the  children  became 
infected  with  the  passions  of  their  fathers.  Games  were  played  in  which  the 
English  were  represented  contending  with  the  Spaniards  ;  and  in  one  of  these 
an  unlucky  urchin,  who  played  the  part  of  Phiiip,  narrowly  escaped  with  his 
life  from  the  hands  of  his  exasperated  comrades.38 

But  soniething  more  serious  than  child's  play  showed  itself,  in  three  several 
insurrections  which  broke  out  in  different  quarters  of  the  kingdom.  The  most 
formidable  of  them  was  the  one  led  by  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt,  son  of  the  celebrated 
poet  of  that  name.  It  soon  gathered  head,  and  the  number  of  the  insurgents 
was  greatly  augmented  by  the  accession  of  a  considerable  body  of  the  royal 

*•  "Si  est-ce  qu'elle  verra  assez  par  icelle  "  See  the  treaty  in  Rymer,  Feeder*,  vol. 

sa  ressemblance,  la  voyant  a  son  jour  et  de  xv.  p.  377. 

loing,  comme  sont  toutes  poinctures  dudict  M  "  Par  la,"  adds  Noailles,  who  tells  the 

Titian  que  de  pres  ne  se  vecongnoissent."  rtory,  "vous  ponvez  veoir  comine  le  prince 

Marie.  Heine  de  Hongrie,  a  i'Anibassadeur  d'Espngne  sera  le  bien  venu  en  ce  pays,  puis- 

K'-uard.  novembre  19,  1553,  I'apiers  d'Etat  de  que  les  enfans  le  logent  an  gibet."     Ambas- 

Granvelle,  torn.  iv.  p.  150.  sades  de  No.iilles,  torn.  iii.  p.  130. 


INSURRECTION  IN  ENGLAND.  41 

forces,  who  deserted  their  colours  and  joined  the  very  men  against  whom  they 
had  been  sent.  Thus  strengthened,  Wyatt  marched  on  London.  All  there 
were  filled  with  consternation, — all  but  their  intrepid  queen,  who  showed  as 
much  self-possession  and  indifference  to  danger  as  if  it  were  only  an  ordinary 
riot. 

Proceeding  at  once  into  the  city,  she  met  the  people  at  Guildhall,  and  made 
them  a  spirited  address,  which  has  been  preserved  in  the  pages  of  Holinshed. 
It  concludes  in  the  following  bold  strain,  containing  an  allusion  to  the  cause 
of  the  difficulties :  "  And  certainly,  if  I  did  either  know  or  think  that  this 
marriage  should  either  turn  to  the  danger  or  loss  of  any  of  yon,  my  loving 
subjects,  or  to  the  detriment  or  impairing  of  any  part  or  parcel  of  the  royal 
estate  of  this  realm  of  England,  I  would  never  consent  thereunto,  neither 
would  I  ever  marry  while  I  lived.  And  on  the  word  of  a  queen,  I  promise  and 
assure  you  that,  if  it  shall  not  probably  appear  before  the  nobility  and 
commons,  in  the  high  court  of  parliament,  that  this  marriage  shall  be  for  the 
singular  benefit  and  commodity  of  all  the  whole  realm,  that  then  I  will  abstain 
not  only  from  this  marriage,  but  also  from  any  other  whereof  peril  may  ensue 
to  this  most  noble  realm.  Wherefore  now  as  good  and  faithful  subjects  pluck 
up  your  hearts,  and  like  true  men  stand  fast  with  your  lawful  prince  against 
these  rebels,  both  our  enemies  and  yours,  and  fear  them  not ;  for  I  assure  you 
that  I  fear  them  nothing  at  all !  *'  The  courageous  spirit  of  their  queen 
communicated  itself  to  her  audience,  and  in  a  few  hours  twenty  thousand 
citizens  enrolled  themselves  under  the  royal  banner. 

Meanwhile,  the  rebel  force  continued  its  march,  and  reports  soon  came  that 
Wyatt  was  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  Thames  ;  then,  that  he  had  crossed 
the  river.  Soon  his  presence  was  announced  by  the  flight  of  a  good  number 
of  the  royalists,  among  whom  was  Courtenay,  who  rode  oft"  before  the  enemy 
at  a  speed  that  did  little  credit  to  his  valour.  All  was  now  confusion  again. 
The  lords  and  ladies  in  attendance  gathered  round  the  queen  at  Whitehall,  as 
if  to  seek  support  from  her  more  masculine  nature.  Her  ministers  went  down 
on  their  knees  to  implore  her  to  take  refuge  in  the  Tower,  as  the  only  place 
of  safety.  Mary  smiled  with  contempt  at  the  pusillanimous  proposal,  and 
resolved  to  remain  where  she  was  and  abide  the  issue. 

It  was  not  long  in  coming.  Wyatt  penetrated  as  far  as  Ludgate,  with 
desperate  courage,  but  was  not  well  seconded  by  his  followers.  The  few  who 
proved  faithful  were  surrounded  and  overwhelmed  by  numbers.  Wyatt  was 
made  prisoner,  and  the  whole  rebel  rout  discomfited  and  dispersed.  By  this 
triumpn  over  her  enemies,  Mary  was  seated  more  strongly  than  ever  on  the 
throne.  Henceforward  the  Spanish  match  did  not  meet  with  opposition  from 
the  people,  any  more  than  from  the  parliament. 

Still,  the  emperor,  after  this  serious  demonstration  of  hostility  to  his  son, 
felt  a  natural  disquietude  in  regard  to  his  personal  safety,  which  made  him 
desirous  of  obtaining  some  positive  guarantee  before  trusting  him  among  the 
turbulent  islanders.  He  wrote  to  his  ambassador  to  require  such  security 
from  the  government  But  no  better  could  be  given  than  the  royal  promise 
that  everything  should  be  done  to  insure  the  prince's  safety,  llenard  was 
mii'-h  perplexed.  He  felt  the  resix>nsihility  of  his  own  position.  He  declined 
to  pledge  himself  for  the  quiet  deportment  of  the  English  ;  but  he  thought 
matters  had  already  gone  too  far  to  leave  it  in  the  power  of  Spain  to  recede. 
He  wrote,  moreover,  lx>th  to  Charles  and  to  Philip,  recommending  that  the 
prince  should  not  bring  over  with  him  a  larger  retinue  of  Spaniards  than  was 

"  HollnBhed.  vol.  Iv.  p.  16.— The  accounts  mul  r,  as  Riven,  at  more  or  le*s  length.  In 
of  tbU  iiimin  iriion  are  familiar  to  the  EuglUb  every  history  of  the  period. 


42  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

necessary,  and  that  the  wives  of  his  nobles — for  he  seems  to  have  regarded  the 
sex  as  the  source  of  evil — should  not  accompany  them.*8  Above  all,  he  urged 
Philip  and  his  followers  to  lay  aside  the  Castihan  hauteur,  and  to  substitute 
the  conciliatory  manners  which  might  disarm  the  jealousy  of  the  English." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

Mary's  Betrothal— Joanna  Regent  of  Castile— Philip  embarks  for  England — His  splendid 
Reception — Marriage  of  Philip  and  Mary— Royal  Entertainments— Philip's  Influence— 
The  Catholic  Church  restored— I 'hilip's  Departure. 

1554,  1555. 

IN  the  month  of  March,  1554,  Count  Egmont  arrived  in  England,  on  a  second 
embassy,  for  the  purpose  of  exchanging  the  ratifications  of  the  marriage- 
treaty.  He  came  in  the  same  state  as  before,  and  was  received  by  the  queen 
in  the  presence  of  her  council.  The  ceremony  was  conducted  with  great 
solemnity.  Mary,  kneeling  down,  called  God  to  witness  that  in  contracting 
this  marriage  she  had  been  influenced  by  no  motive  of  a  carnal  or  worldly 
nature,  but  by  the  desire  of  securing  the  welfare  and  tranquillity  of  the 
kingdom.  To  her  kingdom  her  faith  had  first  been  plighted  ;  and  she  hoped 
that  Heaven  would  give  her  strength  to  maintain  inviolate  the  oath  she  had 
taken  at  her  coronation. 

This  she  said  with  so  much  grace  that  the  bystanders,  says  Renard, — who 
was  one  of  them, — were  all  moved  to  tears.  The  ratifications  were  then 
exchanged,  and  the  oaths  taken,  in  presence  of  the  host,  by  the  representa- 
tives of  Spain  and  England ;  when  Mary,  again  kneeling,  called  on  those 
present  to  unite  with  her  in  prayer  to  the  Almighty  that  he  would  enable  her 
faithfully  to  keep  the  articles  of  the  treaty  and  would  make  her  marriage  a 
happy  one. 

Count  Egrnont  then  presented  to  the  queen  a  diamond  ring,  which  the 
emperor  had  sent  her.  Mary,  putting  it  on  her  finger,  showed  it  to  the 
company  ;  "and  assuredly,"  exclaims  the  Spanish  minister,  "the  jewel  was  a 
precious"  one,  and  well  worthy  of  admiration."  Egmont,  before  departing  for 
Spain,  inquired  of  Mary  whether  she  would  intrust  him  with  any  message  to 
Prince  Philip.  The  queen  replied  that  "  he  might  tender  to  the  prince  her 
most  affectionate  regards,  and  assure  him  that  she  should  be  always  ready  to 
vie  with  him  in  such  offices  of  kindness  as  became  a  loving  arid  obedient  wife." 
When  asked  if  she  would  write  to  him,  she  answered,  "  ftot  till  he  had  begun 
the  correspondence." ' 

This  lets  us  into  the  knowledge  of  a  little  fact,  very  significant.    Up  to  this 

"  "l/on  aescriptd'Espaignequeplusieurs  nard,  ap.  Tytler,  Edward  VI.  and  Mary,  vol- 

sieurs  deliberoient  amener  leurs  temmes  avcc  ii.  p.  335. 

eulx  pardeca.    SI  ainsi  est,  vostre  Majeste  '  The  particulars  of  this  interview  are  taken 

pourra  preveoir  un  grand  desordre  en  oste  from  one  of  Renard's  despatches  to  the  em- 

court."     Renard,  ap.  Tytler,  Edward  VI.  and  peror,  dated   March    8tb,   1554,   ap.   Tytler, 

Mary,  vol.  ii.  p.  351.  Knglund  under  the  reigns  of  Edward  VI.  and 

"  "  Seullement  sera  requis  qne  les  Espai-  Mary  (vol.  ii.  pp.  326-329). — a  work  in  which 

gnolez  qul  suyvront  vostn?  Alt"ze  comporti-nt  the  author,   by   the  publication  of  original 

les  facjons  de  faire  des   Angloys,  et  soient  documents,  anil  his  own  sagacious  commen- 

modestes,  confians  que  vostre  A Itezc  les  aica-  tary,  has  don  •  much  for  the  illustration  of 

rassera  par  son  huuianite  costuuiiere."    Re-  this  portion  of  English  history. 


MARY'S  BETROTHAL.  43 

time  Philip  had  neither  written  nor  so  much  as  sent  a  single  token  of  regard 
to  his  mistress.  All  this  had  been  left  to  his  father.  Charles  had  arranged 
the  marriage,  had  wooed  the  bride,  had  won  over  her  principal  advisers, — in 
short,  had  done  all  the  courtship.  Indeed,  the  inclinations  of  Philip,  it  is 
said,  had  taken  another  direction,  and  he  would  have  preferred  the  hand  of 
his  royal  kinswoman,  Mary  of  Portugal.2  However  this  may  be,  it  is  not 
probable  that  he  felt  any  great  satisfaction  in  the  prospect  of  being  united  to 
a  woman  who  was  eleven  years  older  than  himself,  and  whose  personal  charms, 
whatever  they  might  once  have  been,  had  long  since  faded,  under  the  effects 
of  disease  and  a  constitutional  melancholy.  But  he  loved  power ;  and  what- 
ever scruples  he  might  have  entertained  on  his  own  account  were  silenced 
before  the  wishes  of  uis  father.3  "  Like  another  Isaac,"  exclaims  Sandoval, 
in  admiration  of  his  conduct,  "  he  sacrificed  himself  on  the  altar  of  filial  duty."  * 
The  same  implicit  deference  which  Philip  showed  his  father  in  this  delicate 
matter  he  afterwards,  under  similar  circumstances,  received  from  his  own 
so 

After  the  marriage-articles  had  been  ratified,  Philip  sent  a  present  of  a 
magnificent  jewel  to  the  English  queen,  by  a  Spanish  noble  of  high  rank,  the 
Marquis  de  las  Navas.*  The  marquis,  who  crossed  from  Biscay  with  a 
squadron  of  four  ships,  landed  at  Plymouth,  and,  as  he  journeyed  towards 
London,  was  met  by  the  young  Lord  Herbert,  son  of  the  earl  of  Pembroke, 
who  conducted  him,  with  an  escort  of  four  hundred  mounted  gentlemen,  to  his 
family  seat  in  Wiltshire.  "  And  as  they  rode  together  to  Wilton,"  says  Lord 
Edmund  Dudley,  one  of  the  party,  "  there  were  certain  courses  at  the  hare, 
which  was  so  pleasant  that  the  marquis  much  delighted  in  finding  the  course 
so  readily  appointed.  As  for  the  marquis's  great  cheer,  as  well  that  night  at 
supper  as  otherwise  at  his  breakfast  the  next  day,  surely  it  was  so  abundant, 
that  it  was  not  a  little  marvel  to  consider  that  so  great  a  preparation  could  be 
made  in  so  small  a  warning.  .  .  .  Surely  it  was  not  a  little  comfort  to  my 
heart  to  see  all  things  so  honourably  used  for  the  honour  and  service  of  the 
queen's  majesty."  * 

Meanwhile,  Philip  was  making  his  arrangements  for  leaving  Spain  and 
providing  a  government  for  the  country  during  his  absence.  It  was  decided 
by  the  emperor  to  intrust  the  regency  to  his  daughter,  the  Princess  Joanna. 

•  Florei,  Keynas  CathoUcas.  torn.  ii.  p.  »90.        sacriflcar  por  bazer  la  voluntad  de  su  padre,  y 
'  Philip  would  have  preferred  that  Charles        por  et  bien  de  la  Iglesia."    Sandoval,  Hint,  de 

should  carry  out  his  original  design  by  taking  Carlos  V.,  torn,  il.  p.  5  7. 
Mary  for  his  own  wife.     But  he  acquiesced,  *  A  single  diamond  in  the  ornament  which 

without  a  murmur,  in  the  choice  his  f.ither  Philip  Rent  his  queen  was  valued  at  eighty 

made  fur  him.     Allgnet  quotes  a  passage  fiotu  tlioui-and  crowns :  "  Una  joya  que  don  Kilipe 

•  letter  of   I'hilip  to  the  emperor  on   this  le  enbiaba.  en  que  avia  un  diamante  de  valor 
subject,  which  shows  him   to   have  been  *  de  ochenta  mil  escudos."     Cabrera,    Kilipe 
pattern  of   tilial  obedience.      The  letter   is  Segundo,  lib.  i.  cap.  4. 

copied  by  Oonzales  in  his  unpublished  work,  '    Letter  of  Ix>rd  Edmund   Dudley  to  the 

Ketiro  y  Kstaiiria  de  Carlos  (Juinto:  "  Y  que  Lords  of  the  Council.  MS.    This  document, 

pues  piensan  proponer  HU  inatrinionlo  con  with  other  MSS.  relating  to  this  period,  « as 

Vuestra  Magentad,  ballandoae  en  disposition  kindly  furnished  to  me  by  the  late  lamented 

para  ello,  erto  serin  lo  max  acertado.     Pero  en  Mr.  I'ytlcr,  who  copied  them  from  the  origl- 

c:iao  que  Vueflra  Magestad  ewta  CM  lo  que  me  nals  In  the  State  Paper  Office. — The  young 

evciibe  y  le  paieciere  tratar  de  lo  que  a  mi  L<>rd  Herbert  mentioned  In  the  text  became 

toca,  ya   Vuentra  M  agent  »d  sabe  que.  como  a;terward«    that    earl     of     Pembroke    who 

tan  obudiente  hijo,  no  be  tener  mas  voluntad  married,  for  his  second  wife,  the  celebrated 

3ue  la  suya ;  cuanto  mas  sleixio  e>te  neguclo  sister   of   Sir    Philip   Sidney,  to    whom   he 

e  ImporUncia  y  calidad  que  es.     Y  an!  me  ha  dedicated  the   "Arcadia," —  less  celebrated, 

paiecido  n-mitirlo  &  VueMra  Mugextad  par*  perhapH,  from  this  dedication  than  from  the 

que  en  todo  baya  lo  que  le  parecleiii,  y  Inert-  epitaph  on  her  monument,  by  Ben  Jonson, 

*  r\  i.l..."     Mtgnet,  Charles-yulnt,  p.  76  in  Salisbury  Cathedral. 

*  '•  Higo  ea  esto  lo  que  un  Isaac  dexandose 


44  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

She  was  eight  years  younger  than  Philip.  About  eighteen  months  before,  she 
had  gone  to  Portugal  as  the  bride  of  the  heir  of  that  kingdom.  But  the  fair 
promise  afforded  by  this  union  was  blasted  by  the  untimely  death  of  her 
consort,  which  took  place  on  the  second  of  January,  1554.  Three  weeks  after- 
wards, the  unhappy  widow  gave  birth  to  a  son,  the  famous  Don  Sebastian, 
whose  Quixotic  adventures  have  given  him  a  wider  celebrity  than  is  enjoyed 
by  many  a  wiser  sovereign.  After  the  cruel  calamity  which  had  befallen  her, 
it  was  not  without  an  effort  that  Joanna  resigned  herself  to  her  father's  wishes 
and  consented  to  enter  on  the  duties  of  public  life.  In  July  she  quitted  Lihbon, 
— the  scene  of  early  joys,  and  of  hopes  for  ever  blighted, — and,  amidst  the 
regrets  of  the  whole  court,  returned,  under  a  princely  escort,  to  Castile.  She 
was  received  on  the  borders  by  the  king,  her  brother,  who  conducted  her  to 
Valladolid.  Here  she  was  installed,  with  due  solemnity,  in  her  office  of  regent. 
A  council  of  state  was  associated  with  her  in  the  government.  It  consisted  of 
persons  of  the  highest  consideration,  with  the  archbishop  of  Seville  at  their 
head.  By  this  body  Joanna  was  to  be  advised,  and  indeed  to  be  guided  in  all 
matters  of  moment.  Philip,  on  his  departure,  left  his  sister  an  ample  letter  of 
instructions  as  to  the  policy  to  be  pursued  by  the  administration,  especially  in 
affairs  of  religion.* 

Joanna  seems  to  have  been  a  woman  of  discretion  and  virtue, — qualities 
which  belonged  to  the  females  of  her  line.  She  was  liberal  in  her  benefactions 
to  convents  and  colleges  ;  and  their  cloistered  inmates  showed  their  gratitude 
by  the  most  lavish  testimony  to  her  deserts.  She  had  one  rather  singular 

Eractice.  She  was  in  the  habit  of  dropping  her  veil  when  giving  audience  to 
)reign  ambassadors.  To  prevent  all  doubts  as  to  her  personal  identity,  she 
began  the  audience  by  raising  her  veil,  saying,  "  Am  I  not  the  princess  ? " 
She  then  again  covered  her  face,  and  the  conference  was  continued  without 
her  further  exposing  her  features.  ' '  It  was  not  necessary,"  says  her  biographer, 
in  an  accommodating  spirit,  "  to  have  the  face  uncovered  in  order  to  hear."  • 
Perhaps  Joanna  considered  this  reserve  as  suited  to  the  season  of  her  mourn- 
ing, intending  it  as  a  mark  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  her  deceased  lord.  In 
any  other  view,  we  might  suspect  that  there  entered  into  her  constitution  a 
vein  of  the  same  madness  which  darkened  so  large  a  part  of  the  life  of  her 
grandmother  and  namesake,  Joanna  of  Castile. 

Before  leaving  Valladolid,  Philip  formed  a  separate  establishment  for  his 
son,  Don  Carlos,  and  placed  his  education  under  the  care  of  a  preceptor,  Luis 
de  Vives,  a  scholar  not  to  be  confounded  with  his  namesake,  the  learned  tutor 
of  Mary  of  England.  Having  completed  his  arrangements,  Philip  set  out  for 
the  place  of  his  embarkation  in  the  north.  At  Cpmpostella  he  passed  some 
days,  offering  up  his  devotions  to  the  tutelar  saint  of  Spain,  whose  shrine 
throughout  the  Middle  Ages  had  been  the  most  popular  resort  of  pilgrims 
from  the  western  parts  of  Christendom. 

While  at  Compostella,  Philip  subscribed  the  marriage-treaty,  which  had 
been  brought  over  from  England  by  the  earl  of  Bedford.  He  then  proceeded 
to  Corunna,  where  a  fleet  of  more  than  a  hundred  sail  was  riding  at  anchor, 
in  readiness  to  receive  him.  It  was  commanded  by  the  admiral  of  Castile, 
and  had  on  board,  besides  its  complement  of  seamen,  four  thousand  of  the 

'  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  1.  cap.  4. —  PHncesaf   y  en  oypndo  responder  que  ei, 

Flprez,  Reynas  Cat  holloas,  torn.  ii.  p.  873. —  volvia  a  echarse  el  velo,  como  que  ya  cessaba 

Memorial  des  Voyages  du  Roi,  MS.  el  inconveniente  de  ignorar  con  quien  hubla- 

8  "  Y  preveniila  de  que  los  Kmbajadores  se  ban,  y  que  para  ver  no  necessitaba  tener  la 

ouejaban,  pretextando  qne  no  sabian  si  b;i-  caradescubierta,"     Florez,  Reyuas  Oatholicas, 

blaban  con  la  IVincea.i ;  levantaba el  manto  al  torn.  ii.  p.  873. 
eiupezar  la  Audiencia,  preguutando  j  Soy  la 


PHILIP'S  SPLENDID  RECEPTION.  45 

best  troops  of  Spain.  On  the  eleventh  of  July,  Philip  embarked,  with  his 
numerous  retinue,  in  which,  together  with  the  Flemish  Counts  Egmont  and 
Hoorne,  were  to  be  seen  the  dukes  of  Alva  and  Medina  Celi,  the  prince  of 
Eboli,— in  short,  the  flower  of  the  Castilian  nobility.  They  came  attended  by 
their  wives  and  vassals,  minstrels  and  mummers,  and  a  host  of  idle  followers, 
to  add  to  the  splendour  of  the  pageant  and  do  honour  to  their  royal  master. 
Yet  the  Spanish  ambassador  at  London  had  expressly  recommended  to  Philip 
that  his  courtiers  should  leave  their  ladies  at  home,  and  should  come  in  as 
simple  guise  as  possible,  so  as  not  to  arouse  the  jealousy  of  the  English.9 

After  a  pleasant  run  of  a  few  days,  the  Spanish  squadron  came  in  sight  of 
the  combined  fleets  of  England  and  Flanders,  under  the  command  of  the  Lord 
Admiral  Howard,  who  was  cruising  in  the  channel  in  order  to  meet  the  prince 
and  convoy  him  to  the  English  shore.  The  admiral  seems  to  have  been  a 
blunt  sort  of  man,  who  spoke  his  mind  with  more  candour  than  courtesy.  He 
greatly  offended  the  Flemings  by  comparing  their  ships  to  muscle-shells." 
He  is  even  said  to  have  fired  a  gun  as  he  approached  Philip's  squadron,  in 
order  to  compel  it  to  lower  its  topsails  in  acknowledgment  of  the  supremacy  of 
the  English  in  the  "  narrow  seas."  But  this  is  probably  the  patriotic  vaunt 
of  an  English  writer,  since  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  the  haughty  Spaniard  of 
that  day  would  have  made  such  a  concession,  and  still  less  so  that  the  British 
commander  would  have  been  so  discourteous  as  to  exact  it  on  this  occasion. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  July  the  Meets  came  to  anchor  in  the  port  of  South- 
ampton. A  number  of  barges  were  soon  seen  pushing  oft'  from  the  shore ;  one 
of  which,  protected  by  a  rich  awning  and  superbly  lined  with  cloth  of  gold, 
was  manned  by  sailors  whose  dress  of  white  and  green  intimated  the  royal 
livery.  It  was  the  queen's  barge,  intended  for  Philip  ;  while  the  other  boats, 
all  gaily  ornamented,  received  his  nobles  and  their  retinues. 

The  Spanish  prince  was  welcomed,  on  landing,  by  a  goodly  company  of 
English  lords,  assembled  to  pay  him  their  obeisance.  The  earl  of  Arundel 
presented  him,  in  the  queen's  name,  with  the  splendid  insignia  of  the  order  of 
the  Garter.11  Philip's  dress,  as  usual,  was  of  plain  black  velvet,  with  a  berret 
cap,  ornamented,  after  the  fashion  of  the  time,  with  gold  chains.  By  Mary's 
orders,  a  spirited  Andalusian  jennet  had  been  provided  for  him,  which  the 
prince  instantly  mounted.  He  was  a  good  rider,  and  pleased  the  people  by  his 
co  irteous  bearing  and  the  graceful  manner  in  which  he  managed  his  horse. 

The  royal  procession  then  moved  forward  to  the  ancient  church  of  the  Holy 
Rood,  where  mass  was  said,  and  thanks  were  offered  up  for  their  prosperous 
voyage.  Philip,  after  this,  repaired  to  the  quarters  assigned  to  him  during 
his  stay  in  the  town.  They  were  sumptuously  tilted  up,  and  the  walls  of  the 


Faith,"— words  which,  as  they  were  probably  in  Latin,  could  not  have  been 
lost  on  the  Spaniards.1* 

•  Letter  of  Bedford  and  Fltzwaters  to  the  et  lea  Chevaliers  ont  concludz  lay  donner ;  et 

Council,  ap.  Tytlcr,  Edward  VI.  and  Mary,  en  a  fait  falre  une  la  Koyne,  qu'etit  estimee 

vol.  11.  pp.  4)0.— Cabrera,  Filipc  Segundo,  lib.  wpt  ou  liuict  mil  escuz,  et  jolnctement  fait 

I.  cap.  4,   5.— Sepulveda?  Opera,  vol.  II.   pp.  fairo  plusleure  riches  habillemens  pour  son 

496,497.  Altese."    Letter  of  Renard,  ap.  Tytler,  Ed- 

'•  "  II  appelle  led  navlres  de  la  flottc  de  ward  VI.  and  Mary,  vol.  11.  p.  416. 

vo»tre  Mojefllc  coqulll'fi    de  monies,  et  plu-  "  SaUiutr  de  Memloza,  Nlonarquia  de  Es- 

•i'-urs  aetnblablea  partlcnlaritez."    letter  of  pafia  (Madrid,  1770),  torn.  H.  p.  118. — Ambas- 

K'-nard,  ap.  Tytler,   Edward  VI.  and  Mtiry,  mules  <le   Noailles,  torn.   ill.  pp.   2H3-2H8.— 

vol.  II.  p.  414.  Sy-piilvedic  Opera,  vol.  II.  p.   498.— Cabrera. 

"  "L'ordre  de  la  Jaretlcre,  que  la  Royne  Fillpe  Seguudo,  lib.  I.  cap.  V— Letl,  Vita  dl 


46  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

The  news  of  Philip's  landing  was  received  in  London  with  every  demonstra- 
tion of  joy.  Guns  were  fired,  bells  were  rung,  processions  were  made  to  the 
churches,  bonfires  were  lighted  in  all  the  principal  streets,  tables  were  spread 
in  the  squares,  laden  with  good  cheer,  and  wine  and  ale  flowed  freely  as  water 
for  all  comers.1*  In  short,  the  city  gave  itself  up  to  a  general  jubilee,  as  if  it 
were  celebrating  some  victorious  monarch  returned  to  his  dominions,  and  not 
the  man  whose  name  had  lately  been  the  object  of  such  general  execration. 
Mary  gave  instant  orders  that  the  nobles  of  her  court  should  hold  themselves 
in  readiness  to  accompany  her  to  Winchester,  where  she  was  to  receive  the 
prince ;  and  on  the  twenty-first  of  July  she  made  her  entry,  in  great  state, 
into  that  capital,  and  established  her  residence  at  the  episcopal  palace. 

During  the  few  days  that  Philip  stayed  at  Southampton  he  rode  constantly 
abroad,  and  showed  himself  frequently  to  the  people.  The  information  he  had 
received,  before  his  voyage,  of  the  state  of  public  feeling,  had  suggested  to  him 
some  natural  apprehensions  for  his  safety.  He  seems  to  have  resolved  from 
the  first,  therefore,  to  adopt  such  a  condescending  and  indeed  affable  demeanour 
as  would  disarm  the  jealousy  of  the  English  and,  if  possible,  conciliate  their 
good  will  In  this  he  appears  to  have  been  very  successful,  although  some  of 
the  more  haughty  of  the  aristocracy  did  take  exception  at  his  neglecting  to 
raise  his  cap  to  them.  That  he  should  have  imposed  the  degree  of  restraint 
which  he  seems  to  have  done  on  the  indulgence  of  his  natural  disposition  is 
good  proof  of  the  strength  of  his  apprehensions.14 

The  favour  which  Philip  showed  the  English  gave  umbrage  to  his  own 
nobles.  They  were  still  more  disgusted  by  the  rigid  interpretation  of  one  of 
the  marriage-articles,  by  which  some  hundreds  of  their  attendants  were  pro- 
hibited, as  foreigners,  from  landing,  or,  after  landing,  were  compelled  to 
re-embark  and  return  to  Spain.14  Whenever  Philip  went  abroad  he  was 
accompanied  by  Englishmen.  He  was  served  by  Englishmen  at  his  meals. 
He  breakfastea  and  dined  in  public, — a  thing  but  little  to  his  taste.  He 
drank  healths,  after  the  manner  of  the  English,  and  encouraged  his  Spanish 
followers  to  imitate  his  example,  as  he  quaffed  the  strong  ale  of  the  country.16 

On  the  twenty-third  of  the  mouth  the  earl  of  Pembroke  arrived,  with  a 
brilliant  company  of  two  hundred  mounted  gentlemen,  to  escort  the  prince  to 
Winchester.  He  was  attended,  moreover,  by  a  body  of  English  archers,  whose 
tunics  of  yellow  cloth  striped  with  bars  of  red  velvet  displayed  the  gaudy- 
coloured  livery  of  the  house  of  Aragon.  The  day  was  unpropitious.  The  rain 
fell  heavily,  in  such  torrents  as  might  have  cooled  the  enthusiasm  of  a  more 
ardent  lover  than  Philip.  But  he  was  too  gallant  a  cavalier  to  be  daunted 
by  the  elements.  The  distance,  not  great  in  itself,  was  to  be  travelled  on 
horseback, — the  usual  mode  of  conveyance  at  a  time  when  roads  were  scarcely 
practicable  for  carriages. 

Filippo  1 1.,  torn.  i.  p.  231 .— Holinsbed,  vol.  iv.  prince  fust  de«cendu,  il  fict  crier  et  command* 
p  57.— Memorial  dn,s  Voyages  du  Roi,  MS.  aux  Espaignols  que  chascun  se  retirasten  son 
11  Strype,  Memorials,  vol.  iii.  pp.  127,  128.  navire  et  que  sur  la  peyne  d'estre  pendu,  nul 
14  The  change  in  Philip's  manners  ?eeins  to  ne  desccndist  a  terre."    Ambassades  de  No- 
have  attract  d  general   attention.     We  find  ailles,  torn.  iii.  p.  27. 

Wotton,  the  ambassador  at  the  French  court,  "  Lrti,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  t.  pp.  231, 

speaking,  in  one  of  bis  letiers,  of  the  report  232. — "  Ix>rs  il  appella  les  seigneurs  Espai- 

of  it  as  having  reached  his  e.irs  in   J'aris.  gnols  qui  estoiput  presdeluy  et  leurdict  qu'il 

Wotton  to  Sir  W.  Petre,  August  10th,  1554,  falloit  desormais  oublier  toutes  les  coustumes 

MS.  d'Espatene,  et  vifvre  de  tons  poincts  a.  1'An- 

"  According  to  Nnailles,  Philip  forbade  the  gloise,  a  quoy  il  voulloit  bien  (omniancer  et 

Spaniards  to   leave  their  ships,  on   pain  of  lour  monstrer  le  chemin,  puis  se  fist  apportcr 

being  hanged  when  they  set  foot  on  shore.  de  la  Were  de  laquelle  il  bent."     Ambassades 

This  was  enforcing  the  provisions  of  the  mar-  de  Nuailles,  torn.  iii.  p.  287. 
riage-treaty  in  rigueur:  "Apres  que  ledict 


MARRIAGE  OF  PHILIP  AND  MARY.  47 

Philip  and  his  retinue  had  not  proceeded  far  when  they  were  encountered 
by  a  cavalier,  riding  at  full  speed,  and  bringing  with  him  a  ring  which  Mary 
had  sent  her  lover,  with  the  request  that  he  would  not  expose  himself  to  the 
weather,  but  postpone  his  departure  to  the  following  day.  The  prince,  not 
understanding  the  messenger,  who  spoke  in  English,  and  suspecting  that  it 
was  intended  by  Mary  to  warn  him  of  some  danger  in  his  path,  instantly  drew 
up  by  the  road-side,  and  took  counsel  with  Alva  and  Egmont  as  to  what  was 
to  be  done.  One  of  the  courtiers,  who  perceived  his  embarrassment,  rode  up 
and  acquainted  the  prince  with  the  real  purport  of  the  message.  Relieved  of 
his  alarm,  Philip  no  longer  hesitated,  but,  with  his  red  felt  cloak  wrapped 
closely  about  him  and  a  broad  beaver  slouched  over  his  eyes,  manfully  pushed 
forward,  in  spite  of  the  tempest. 

As  he  advanced,  his  retinue  received  continual  accessions  from  the  neigh- 
bouring gentry  and  yeomanry,  until  it  amounted  to  some  thousands  before  he 
reached  Winchester.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  cavalcade,  soiled 
with  travel  and  thoroughly  drenched  with  rain,  arrived  before  the  gates  of 
the  city.  The  mayor  and  aldermen,  dressed  in  their  robes  of  scarlet,  came  to 
welcome  the  prince,  and,  presenting  the  keys  of  the  city,  conducted  him  to 
his  quarters. 

That  evening  Philip  had  his  first  interview  wi^h  Mary.  It  was  private,  and 
he  was  taken  to  her  residence  by  the  chancellor,  Gardiner,  bishop  of  Win- 
chester. The  royal  pair  passed  an  hour  or  more  together ;  and,  as  Mary 
spoke  the  Castihan  fluently,  the  interview  must  have  been  spared  much  of 
the  embarrassment  that  would  otherwise  have  attended  it11 

On  the  following  day  the  parties  met  in  public.  Philip  was  attended  by  the 
principal  persons  of  his  suite,  of  both  sexes  ;  and  as  the  procession,  making  a 
goodly  show,  passed  through  the  streets  on  foot,  the  minstrelsy  played  before 
them  till  they  reached  the  royal  residence.  The  reception-room  was  the  great 
hall  of  the  palace.  Mary,  stepping  forward  to  receive  her  betrothed,  saluted 
him  with  a  loving  kiss  before  all  the  company.  She  then  conducted  him  to  a 
sort  of  throne,  where  she  took  her  seat  by  his  side,  under  a  stately  canopy. 
They  remained  there  for  an  hour  or  more,  conversing  together,  while  their 
courtiers  had  leisure  to  become  acquainted  with  one  another,  and  to  find 
ample  food,  doubtless,  for  future  criticism,  in  the  peculiarities  of  national 
costume  and  manners.  Notwithstanding  the  Spanish  blood  in  Mary's  veins, 
the  higher  circles  of  Spain  and  England  had  personally  almost  as  little  inter- 
course with  one  another  at  that  period  as  England  and  Japan  have  at  the 
present. 

The  ensuing  day.  the  festival  of  St.  James,  the  patron  saint  of  Spain,  was 
the  one  appointed  for  the  marriage.  Philip  exchanged  his  usual  simple  dress 
for  the  bridal  vestments  provided  for  him  by  his  mistress.  They  were  of 
spotless  white,  as  the  reporter  is  careful  to  inform  us,  satin  and  cloth  of  gold, 
thickly  powdered  with  pearls  and  precious  stones.  Round  his  neck  he  wore 
the  superb  collar  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  the  famous  Burgundian  order  ;  while 
the  brilliant  riband  below  his  knee  served  as  the  badge  of  the  no  less  illus- 
trious order  of  the  Garter.  He  went  on  foot  to  the  cathedral,  attended  by  all 
his  nobles,  vying  with  one  another  in  the  ostentatious  splendour  of  their 
retinues. 

Half  an  hour  elapsed  before  Philip  was  joined  by  the  queen  at  the  entrance 

"  According  to  Srpulveda,  Philip  gnve  a  ttdea  progrewam   *alutaim   Brltannico   more 

tnoet    liberal    construction    to    the    English  mavlavit ;  hal'ltixjue  longlore  ct  Jncuiidlfwlnio 

m-tniii  nf  saliitatiini,  kixslng  not  only  hN  be-  colloqnlo,  Philippiwrnatroiuuietiain  et  Kegia.s 

irnt  lit-il,  but  all  tin-  ladies  In  wa'ting,  matrons  virglnr*  nlgillatlm  «alntat  oscuUtimiue."   Se- 

aii'i    maidens,  witbout   dbtluctlon :    "  Intra  pulvcda:  Opera,  vol.  ii.  p.  499. 


48  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

of  the  cathedral.  Mary  was  surrounded  by  the  lords  and  ladies  of  her  court. 
Her  dress,  of  white  satin  and  cloth  of  gold,  like  his  own,  was  studded  and 
fringed  with  diamonds  of  inestimable  price,  some  of  them,  doubtless,  the  gift 
of  Philip,  which  he  had  sent  to  her  by  the  hands  of  the  prince  of  Eboli,  soon 
after  his  landing.  Her  bright-red  slippers  and  her  mantle  of  black  velvet 
formed  a  contrast  to  the  rest  of  her  apparel,  and,  for  a  bridal  costume,  would 
hardly  suit  the  taste  of  the  present  day.  The  royal  party  then  moved  upthe 
nave  of  the  cathedral,  and  were  received  in  the  choir  by  the  bishop  of  Win- 
chester, supported  by  the  great  prelates  of  the  English  Church.  The  greatest 
of  all,  Cranmer,  the  primate  of  all  England,  who  should  have  performed  the 
ceremony,  was  absent,— in  disgrace  and  a  prisoner. 

Philip  and  Mary  took  their  seats  under  a  royal  canopy,  with  an  altar 
between  them.  The  queen  was  surrounded  by  the  ladies  of  her  court, — 
whose  beauty,  says  an  Italian  writer,  acquired  additional  lustre  by  contrast 
with  the  shadowy  complexions  of  the  south.18  The  aisles  and  spacious  gal- 
leries were  crowded  with  spectators  of  every  degree,  drawn  together  from  the 
most  distant  quarters  to  witness  the  ceremony. 

The  silence  was  broken  by  Figueroa,  one  of  the  imperial  council,  who  read 
aloud  an  instrument  of  the  emperor,  Charles  the  Fifth.  It  stated  that  this 
marriage  had  been  of  his  own  seeking ;  and  he  was  desirous  that  his  beloved 
son  should  enter  into  it  in  a  manner  suitable  to  his  own  expectations  and  the 
dignity  of  his  illustrious  consort.  He  therefore  resigned  to  him  his  entire 
right  and  sovereignty  over  the  kingdom  of  Naples  and  the  duchy  of  Milan. 
The  rank  of  the  parties  would  thus  be  equal,  and  Mary,  instead  of  giving 
her  hand  to  a  subject,  would  wed  a  sovereign  like  herself. 

Some  embarrassment  occurred  as  to  the  person  who  should  give  the  queen 
away, — a  part  of  the  ceremony  not  provided  for.  After  a  brief  conference,  it 
was  removed  by  the  marquis  of  Winchester  and  the  earls  of  Pembroke  and 
Derby,  who  took  it  on  themselves  to  give  her  away  in  the  name  of  the  whole 
realm  ;  at  which  the  multitude  raised  a  shout  that  made  the  old  walls  of  the 
cathedral  ring  again.  The  marriage-service  was  then  concluded  by  the  bishop 
of  Winchester.  Philip  and  Mary  resumed  their  seats,  and  mass  was  per- 
formed, when  the  bridegroom,  rising,  gave  his  consort  the  "kiss  of  peace," 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  time.  The  whole  ceremony  occupied  nearly 
four  hours.  At  the  close  of  it,  Philip,  taking  Mary  by  the  hand,  led  her 
from  the  church.  The  royal  couple  were  followed  by  the  long  train  of  pre- 
lates and  nobles,  and  were  preceded  by  the  earls  of  Pembroke,  and  Derby, 
each  bearing  aloft  a  naked  swordj  the  symbol  of  sovereignty.  The  effect  of 
the  spectacle  was  heightened  by  tne  various  costumes  of  the  two  nations, — 
the  richly-tinted  and  picturesque  dresses  of  the_  Spaniards,  and  the  solid 
magnificence  of  the  English  and  Flemings,  mingling  together  in  gay  con- 
fusion. The  glittering  procession  moved  slowly  on,  to  the  blithe  sounds  of 
festal  music,  while  the  air  was  rent  with  the  loyal  acclamations  of  the  popu- 
lace, delighted,  as  usual,  with  the  splendour  of  the  pageant. 

In  the  great  hall  of  the  episcopal  palace  a  sumptuous  banquet  was  prepared 
for  the  whole  company.  At  one  end  of  the  apartment  was  a  dais,  on  which, 
under  a  superb  canopy,  a  table  was  set  for  the  king  and  queen  ;  and  a  third 
seat  was  added  for  Bishop  Gardiner,  the  only  one  of  the  great  lords  who  was 
admitted  to  the  distinction  of  dining  with  royalty. 

11  "  Poco  dope  comparve  ancora  la  Regina  ridotta  quasi  tutta  la  bellezza  del  mondo,  onde 

pomposamente  vestita,  rilucendo  da  tutte  le  gli  Spagnoli  servivano  con  il  lore  Olivastro, 

parti  pretiosisiime  g>-mme,  accompagnata  da  tra  tanti  soli,  come  ombre."    Leti,  Vita  di 

tante  e  cosi. belle  Principesse,  che  pareva  ivi  Filippo  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  232. 


ROYAL  ENTERTAINMENTS.  49 

Below  the  dais,  the  tables  were  set  on  either  side  through  the  whole  length 
of  the  hall,  for  the  English  and  Spanish  nobles,  all  arranged — a  perilous  point 
of  etiquette — with  due  regard  to  their  relative  rank.  The  royal  table  was 
covered  with  dishes  of  gold  A  spacious  beaufet,  rising  to  the  height  of  eight 
stages,  or  shelves,  and  tilled  with  a  profusion  of  gold  and  silver  vessels,  some- 
what ostentatiously  displayed  the  magnificence  of  the  prelate,  or  of  his  sove- 
reign. Yet  this  ostentation  was  rather  Spanish  than  English,  and  was  one 
of  the  forms  in  which  the  Castilian  grandee  loved  to  display  his  opulence.19 

At  the  bottom  of  the  hall  was  an  orchestra,  occupied  by  a  band  of  excellent 
performers,  who  enlivened  the  repast  by  their  music.  But  the  most  interest- 
ing part  of  the  show  was  that  of  the  Winchester  boys,  some  of  whom  were 
permitted  to  enter  the  presence  and  recite  in  Latin  their  epithalamiums  in 
honour  of  the  royal  nuptials,  for  which  they  received  a  handsome  guerdon 
from  the  queen. 

After  the  banquet  .came  the  ball,  at  which,  if  we  are  to  take  an  old  English 
authority,  "  the  Spaniards  were  greatly  out  of  countenance  when  they  saw 
the  English  so  far  excel  them."  20  This  seems  somewhat  strange,  considering 
that  dancing  is,  and  always  has  been,  the  national  pastime  of  Spain.  Dancing 
is  to  the  Spaniard  what  music  is  to  the  Italian, — the  very  condition  of  his 
social  existence.*1  It  did  not  continue  late  on  the  present  occasion,  and  at 
the  temperate  hour  of  nine  the  bridal  festivities  closed  for  the  evening.22 

Philip  and  Mary  passed  a  few  days  in  this  merry  way  of  life  at  Winchester, 
whence  they  removed,  with  their  court,  to  Windsor.  Bere  a  chapter  of  the 
order  of  the  Garter  was  held,  for  the  purpose  of  installing  King  Philip.  The 
herald,  on  this  occasion,  ventured  to  take  down  the  arms  of  England  and 
substitute  those  of  Spain,  in  honour  of  the  new  sovereign, — an  act  of  defer- 
ence which  roused  the  indignation  of  the  English  lords,  who  straightway 
compelled  the  functionary  to  restore  the  national  escutcheon  to  its  proper 
place.2* 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  August,  Philip  and  Mary  made  their  public  entry 
into  London.  They  rode  in  on  horseback,  passing  through  the  borough  of 
Southwark,  across  London  Bridge.  Every  preparation  was  made  by  the  loyal 
citizens  to  give  them  a  suitable  reception.  The  columns  of  the  buildings 
were  festooned  with  dowers,  triumphal  arches  spanned  the  streets,  the  walls 

"  The  sideboard  of  the  duke  of  Albuqucr-  doza,  Monarqnia  de  EspaCa,  torn.  ii.  p.  117. — 
que,  who  died  about  the  middle  of  the  seven-  Sandoval,  Historia  de  Carlos  V.,  torn.  ii.  pp. 
teenth  century,  was  mounted  by  forty  silver  560-663. — Ix-ti,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  i.  pp. 
ladders!  And,  when  he  died,  six  weeks  were  231-233. — Sepulvedas  Opera,  vol.  ii.  p.  500. — 
occupied  In  making  out  the  inventory  of  the  Cahrera,  Fillpe  Segundo,  lib.  i.  cap.  5.— Memo- 
gold  and  silver  vessels.  See  Dunlop'g  Me-  rial  de  Voyages,  MS. — Miss  Strickland,  Lives 
moire  of  Spain  during  the  Reigns  of  Philip  IV.  of  the  Queens  of  England,  vol.  v.  pp.  389-396. 
and  Charles  11.  (Edinburgh,  1834),  vol.  i.  p.  —To  the  l.i.-t  writer  I  am  especially  indebted 
384.  for  several  particulars  in  the  account  of  pro- 

10  Strype,  Memorials,  vol.  ill.  p.  130.  cessions  and  pageants  which  occupies  the  pre- 

"  Some  interesting  particulars  respecting  ceding  pages.      Her    information    is  chiefly 

the  ancient  national  dances  of  the  Peninsula  derived  from  two  works,  neither  of  which  is 

are  given  by  Tlcknor,  in  his  History  of  Span-  in  my  possession,— the  Book  of  Precedents  of 

tub  Literature  (New  York,  1849),  vol.  Ii.  pp.  Ralph  Brook,  York  herald,  and  the  tiarr.il Ive 

41.'.  4ii;  a  writer  who,  under  the  title  of  a  of  an  Italian,  Baoardo,  an  eye-witness  of  the 

History  of  Literature,  ban  thrown  a  flood  of  scenes  he  describes.     Miss  Strickland's  into- 

llglit  on  the  social  and  political  institutions  of  resting  volumes  are  particularly  valuaMe  to 

tli'-  nation,  whose  character  he  has  evidently  tlie  historian  for  the  copious  extracts  they  ron- 

Btudled  under  all  Its  aspects,  t.iin   from  curious  unpublished    documents, 

**  "Relation  of  what  passed  at  theCelebra-  which  had  escaped  the  notice  of  writers  too 

tlon  of  the  Marriage  of  our  Prince  with  the  exclusively  occupied  with  political  events  to 

Most  Srene  Queen  of  England,"  -from   the  giv*  much  heed  to  details  of  a  domestic  an>l 

original  at  Ix>uvaln,  ap.  Tytler,  Edward  VI.  personal  nature, 
and  Mary,  vol.  11.  p.  430.— Salazar  de  Men-  "  Hollnsbed,  vol.  iv.  p.  62. 

E 


50  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

were  hung  with  pictures  or  emblazoned  with  legends  in  commemoration  of 
the  illustrious  pair,  and  a  genealogy  was  traced  for  Philip,  setting  forth  his 
descent  from  John  of  Gaunt,— making  him  out,  in  short,  as  much  of  an 
Englishman  as  possible. 

Among  the  paintings  was  one  in  which  Henry  the  Eighth  was  seen  holding 
in  his  hand  a  Bible.  This  device  gave  great  scandal  to  the  chancellor, 
Gardiner,  who  called  the  painter  sundry  hard  names,  rating  him  roundly  for 
putting  into  King  Harry's  hand  the  sacred  volume,  which  should  rather  nave 
been  given  to  his  daughter,  Queen  Mary,  for  her  zeal  to  restore  the  primitive 
worship  of  the  Church.  The  unlucky  artist  lost  no  time  in  repairing  his  error 
by  brushing  out  the  offending  volume,  and  did  it  so  effectually  that  he  brushed 
out  the  royal  fingers  with  it,  leaving  the  old  monarch's  mutilated  stump  held 


be  paraded  through  the  city  on  its  way  to  the  Tower,  where  it  was  deposited 
in  the  royal  treasury.  The  quantity  was  said  to  be  so  great  that  on  one 
occasion  the  chests  containing  it  filled  twenty  carts.  On  another,  two  wagons 
were  so  heavily  laden  with  the  precious  metal  as  to  require  to  be  drawn  by 
nearly  a  hundred  horses.24  The  good  people,  who  had  looked  to  the  coming 
of  the  Spaniards  as  that  of  a  swarm  of  locusts  which  was  to  consume  their 
substance,  were  greatly  pleased  to  see  their  exhausted  coffers  so  well  re- 
plenished from  the  American  mines. 

From  London  the  royal  pair  proceeded  to  the  shady  solitudes  of  Hampton 
Court,  and  Philip,  weary  of  the  mummeries  in  which  he  had  been  compelled 
to  take  part,  availed  himself  of  the  indisposition  of  his  wife  to  indulge  in  that 
retirement  and  repose  which  were  more  congenial  to  his  taste.  This  way  of 
life  in  his  pleasant  retreat,  however,  does  not  appear  to  have  been  so  well 
suited  to  the  taste  of  the  English  subjects.  At  least,  an  old  chronicler 
peevishly  complains  that  "  the  nail-door  within  the  court  was  continually 
shut,  so  that  no  man  might  enter  unless  his  errand  were  first  known  ;  which 
seemed  strange  to  Englishmen  that  had  not  been  used  thereto." 2S 

Yet  Philip,  although  his  apprehensions  for  his  safety  had  doubtless  sub- 
sided, was  wise  enough  to  affect  the  same  conciliatory  manners  as  on  his  first 
landing, — and  not  altogether  in  vain.  "  He  discovered,"  says  the  Venetian 
ambassador,  in  his  report  to  the  senate,  "  none  of  that  sosieqo — the  haughtv 
indifference  of  the  Spaniards — which  distinguished  him  when  he  first  left 
home  for  Italy  and  Flanders.*7  He  was,  indeed,  as  accessible  as  any  one 
could  desire,  and  gave  patient  audience  to  all  who  asked  it.  He  was  solici- 

"  Holinshed.  vol.  iv.  p.  63.  ment  while  In  England  :  "Essendo  avrertito 
"  The  Spaniards  must  have  been  quit*  as  prim*  dal  Cardinale  dl  Trento.  poi  dalla  Re- 
much  astonished  as  the  English  at  the  sight  of  pina  Maria,  et  con  piu  efflcaccia  dal  padre, 
such  an  amount  of  gold  and  silver  in  the  cof-  che  quella  riputatione  et  severita  non  si  con- 
fers of  their  king, — a  sight  that  rarely  re-  veniva  a  In',  che  dovea  dominar  nationl  vario 
juiced  the  eyes  of  either  Charles  or  Philip,  et  popoli  di  costumi  diversi,  si  mut5  in  modo 
though  lords  of  the  Indies.  A  hundred  horses  die  passando  1'  ultra  volta  di  Spagna  perandar 
might  well  have  drawn  as  many  tons  of  gold  in  Inghilterra,  ha  mostrato  sempre  una  dol- 
an<l  silver,— an  amount,  considering  the  value  cezza  ct  hnmanita  cosi  grande  che  non  e  sune- 
of  mon?y  in  that  day,  that  taxes  our  fai  h  rato  da  Prencipe  alcuno  in  questa  parte,  et 
somewhat  heavily,  and  not  the  less  that  only  b»nche  *ervi  in  tutte  le  attioni  sue  riputatione 
two  wagons  were  employed  to  carry  it.  et  Rravita  regie  alle  quali  e  p*r  Datura  incli- 
:  Holinshed,  ubi  supra.  nato  et  per  costume,  non  e  pero  manco  grato, 
"  Kelatione  di  Ulo.  Micbeli,  MS.— Michele-  anzi  fanno  parere  la  cortesia  maggiore  che 
Soriano,  who  represented  Venice  at  Madrid,  S.  M.  usa  con  tutti."  Relatione  di  Michele 
in  1559,  bears  similar  testimony,  in  still  Soriano,  MS. 
stronger  language,  to  Philip's  altered  deport- 


PHILIP'S  INFLUENCE. 

tous,"  continues  Micheli,  "  to  instruct  himself  in  affairs,  and  showed  a  taste 
for  application  to  business," — which,  it  may  be  added,  grew  stronger  with 
years.  "  He  spoke  little,  but  his  remarks,  though  brief,  were  pertinent.  In 
short,"  he  concludes,  "  he  is  a  prince  of  an  excellent  genius,  a  lively  appre- 
hension, and  a  judgment  ripe  beyond  his  age." 

Philip's  love  of  business,  however,  was  not  such  as  to  lead  him  to  take  part 
prematurely  in  the  management  of  affairs.  He  discreetly  left  this  to  the 
queen  and  her  ministers,  to  whose  judgment  he  affected  to  pay  the  greatest 
deference.  He  particularly  avoided  all  appearance  of  an  attempt  to  interfere 
with  the  administration  of  justice,  unless  it  were  to  obtain  some  act  of  grace. 
Such  interference  only  served  to  gain  him  the  more  credit  with  the  people.28 

That  he  gained  largely  on  their  good  will  may  be  inferred  from  the  casual 
remarks  of  more  than  one  contemporary  writer.  They  bear  emphatic  testi- 
mony to  the  affability  of  his  manners,  so  little  to  have  been  expected  from 
the  popular  reports  of  his  character.  "  Among  other  things,"  writes  Wotton, 
the  English  minister  at  the  French  court,  "  one  I  have  been  right  glad  to 
hear  of  is,  that  the  king's  highness  useth  himself  so  gently  and  lovingly  to  all 
men.  For,  to  tell  you  truth,  I  have  heard  some  say,  that,  when  he  came  out 
of  Spain  into  Italy,  it  was  by  some  men  wished  that  he  had  showed  a  some- 
what more  benign  countenance  to  the  people  than  it  was  said  he  then  did." 2* 
Another  contemporary,  in  a  private  letter,  written  soon  after  the  king's 
entrance  into  London,  after  describing  his  person  as  "  so  well  proportioned 
that  Nature  cannot  work  a  more  perfect  pattern,"  concludes  with  commend- 
ing hini  for  his  "  pregnant  wit  and  most  gentle  nature." 30 

Philip,  from  the  hour  of  his  landing,  had  been  constant  in  all  his  religious 
observances.  "He  was  as  punctual,  says  Micheli,  "in  his  attendance  at 
mass,  and  his  observance  of  all  the  forms  of  devotion,  as  any  monk, — more 
so,  as  some  people  thought,  than  became  his  age  and  station.  The  eccle- 
siastics," he  adds,  "  with  whom  Philip  had  constant  intercourse,  talk  loudly 
of  his  piety.*1 

Yet  there  was  no  hypocrisy  in  this.  However  willing  Philip  may  have 
been  that  his  concern  for  the  interests  of  religion  might  be  seen  of  men,  it  is 
no  less  true  that  as  far  as  he  understood  these  interests,  his  concern  was  per- 
fectly sincere.  The  actual  state  of  England  may  have  even  operated  as  an 
inducement  with  him  to  overcome  his  scruples  as  to  the  connection  with  Mary. 
"Better  not  reign  at  all,"  he  often  remarked,  "than  reign  over  heretics." 
But  what  triumph  more  glorious  than  that  of  converting  these  heretics  and 
bringing  them  back  again  to  the  bosom  of  the  Church  ?  He  was  most  anxious 
to  prepare  the  minds  of  his  new  subjects  for  an  honourable  reception  of  the 
papal  legate.  Cardinal  Pole,  who  was  armed  with  full  authority  to  receive 
the  submission  of  England  to  the  Holy  See.  He  employed  his  personal 
influence  with  the  great  nobles,  and  enforced  it  occasionally  by  liberal  drafts 

••  ••  Lasciando  1'  essecutlone  delle  cose  di  "  "  Nella  religione,  .  .  .  pcrqiidchedall' 

friustitla  alia  Regina,  et  a  i  Ministri  quand'  cgterior  si  rede,  nun  Hi  potria  giudicar  mrglii>, 

occorrc  di  cundannare  alcuno,  o  iiella  robbu.o  et  plu  axsiduo,  et  attnitiwinio  alle  M.— -r,  a  1 

nella  vita,  per  poter  poi  usarli  imjwtrando,  Vesperi,  et  alle  Predlche,  come  un  religi<>«", 

come  fa,  le  gratie,  et  le  mercedl  tutte  :  le  qua!  niulto  plu  che  a  lo  Rtato,  et  eta  sua,  a  moltr  pare 

cose  fanno,  che  quanto  alia  persona  sun,  mm  che  el  convenga.  II  nieJisimo  con  lfrl«e«rio  dell' 

solo  hia  ben  voluto,  et  amato  da  dascuno,  ma  lntrlnseco  olira  ccrti  frati  Theolngi  puoi  prwli- 

anco  desiderato."    Kelatione  di  Oio.  Micheli,  catori  huomlni  certo  di  stlma,  et  ancu  altri 

MS.  cbe  ogni  di  trattano  con  lui,  che  nelle  ri'sc 

'*  I.rttrr  of  Nicholas  Wotton  to  Sir  William  della  consclt  ntia  non  desiderano  ne  |»u  pia, 

Prtre.  MS.  ne  mlRlior  intentions,"     Relatione  di  Gio. 

-  See  the  Remarks  of   John   Klder,   ap.  Mithcli,  MS. 
Tytler,  Kdward  VI.  and  Mary,  vol.  11.  p.  268. 


52  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

on  those  Peruvian  ingots  which  he  had  sent  to  the  Tower.  At  least,  it  is 
asserted  that  he  gave  away  yearly  pensions,  to  the  large  amount  of  between 
fifty  and  sixty  thousand  gold  crowns,  to  sundry  of  the  queen's  ministers.  It 
was  done  on  the  general  plea  of  recompensing  their  loyalty  to  their  mistress.32 

Early  in  November,  tidings  arrived  of  the  landing  of  Pole.  He  had  been 
detained  some  weeks  in  Germany  by  the  emperor,  who  felt  some  distrust — not 
ill  founded,  as  it  seems — of  the  cardinal's  disposition  in  regard  to  the  Spanish 
match.  Now  that  this  difficulty  was  obviated,  he  was  allowed  to  resume  his 
journey.  He  came  up  the  Thames  in  a  magnificent  barge,  with  a  large  silver 
cross,  the  emblem  or  his  legatine  authority,  displayed  on  the  prow.  The 
legate,  on  landing,  was  received  by  the  king, 'the  queen,  and  the  whole  court, 
with  a  reverential  deference  which  augured  well  for  the  success  of  his  mission. 

He  was  the  man,  of  all  others,  best  qualified  to  execute  it.  To  a  natural 
kindness  of  temper  he  united  an  urbanity  and  a  refinement  of  manners  derived 
from  familiar  intercourse  with  the  most  polished  society  of  Europe.  His  royal 
descent  entitled  him  to  mix  on  terms  of  equality  with  persons  of  the  highest 
rank,  and  made  him  feel  as  much  at  ease  in  the  court  as  in  the  cloister.  His 
long  exile  had  opened  to  him  an  acquaintance  with  man  as  he  is  found  in 
various  climes,  while,  as  a  native-born  Englishman,  he  perfectly  understood 
the  prejudices  and  peculiar  temper  of  his  own  countrymen.  "  Cardinal  Pole," 
says  the  Venetian  minister,  "  is  a  man  of  unblemished  nobility,  and  so  strict 
in  his  integrity  that  he  grants  nothing  to  the  importunity  of  friends.  He  is 
so  much  beloved,  both  by  prince  and  people,  that  he  may  well  be  styled  the 
king  where  all  is  done  by  his  authority."  "  An  English  cardinal  was  not  of 
too  frequent  occurrence  in  the  Sacred  College.  That  one  should  have  been 
found  at  the  present  juncture,  with  personal  qualities,  moreover,  so  well  suited 
to  the  delicate  mission  to  England,  was  a  coincidence  so  remarkable  that  Phiiip 
and  Mary  might  well  be  excused  for  discerning  in  it  the  finger  of  Providence. 

On  the  seventeenth  of  the  month,  parliament,  owing  to  the  queen's  indis- 
position, met  at  Whitehall,  and  Pole  made  that  celebrated  speech  in  which  he 
recapitulated  some  of  the  leading  events  of  his  own  life,  and  the  persecutions 
he  had  endured  for  conscience'  sake.  He  reviewed  the  changes  in  religion 
which  had  taken  place  in  England,  and  implored  his  audience  to  abjure  their 
spiritual  errors  and  to  seek  a  reconciliation  with  the  Catholic  Church.  He 
assured  them  of  his  plenary  power  to  grant  absolution  for  the  past,  and — what 
was  no  less  important — to  authorize  the  present  proprietors  to  retain  possession 
of  the  abtey  lands  which  had  been  confiscated  under  King  Henry.  This  last 
concession,  which  had  been  extorted  with  difficulty  from  the  pope,  reconciling, 
as  it  did,  temporal  with  spiritual  interests,  seems  to  have  dispelled  whatever 
scruples  yet  lingered  in  the  breasts  of  the  legislature.  There  were  few,  pro- 
bably, in  that  goodly  company  whose  zeal  would  have  aspired  to  the  crown  of 
martyrdom. 

The  ensuing  day,  parliament,  in  obedience  to  the  royal  summons,  again 
assembled  at  Whitehall.  Philip  took  his  seat  on  the  left  of  Mary,  under  the 
same  canopy,  while  Cardinal  Pole  sat  at  a  greater  distance  on  her  right.34 

M  Relations  dt  Gio.  Mlcheli,  MS.  adorned  with  infinite  godly  qualities,  above 

33  Relatione  di  Gio.  Micheli,  MS. — Mason,  the  ordinary  sort  of  men.     And  whosoever 

the  English  minister  at  the  imperial  court,  within  the  realm  likct.li  him  worst,  I  would  he 

•who  had   had  much  intercourse  with   Pole,  might  have  with  him  the  talk  of  one  half- 

epeaks  of  him  in  terms  of  unqualified  admira-  hour.     It  were  a  right  stony  heart  thnt  in  a 

tion :  "Such  a  one  as,  for  his  wisdom,  joined  small  time  he  could  not  soften."    Letter  of 

with  learning,  virtue,  and  godliness,  all  the  Sir  John  Mason  to  the  Queen,  MS. 

world  seeketh  an<1  adoreth.     In  whom  it  is  to  *•  If  we  are  to  credit  Cabrera,  Philip  not 

be  thought  that  GoJ  hath  chosen  a  special  only  took  his  seat  in  parliament,  but  on  one 

place  of  habitation.    Such  is  his  conversation  occasion,  the  better  to  conciliate  the  good  will 


THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  RESTORED.  53 

The  chancellor,  Gardiner,  then  presented  a  petition  in  the  name  of  the  lords 
and  commons,  praying  for  reconciliation  with  the  papal  see.  Absolution  was 
solemnly  pronounced  by  the  legate,  and  the  whole  assembly  received  his 
benediction  on  their  bended  knees.  England,  purified  from  her  heresy,  was 
once  more  restored  to  the  communion  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

Philip  instantly  despatched  couriers  with  the  glad  tidings  to  Rome,  Brussels, 
and  other  capitals  of  Christendom.  Everywhere  the  event  was  celebrated 
with  public  rejoicings,  as  if  it  had  been  some  great  victory  over  the  Saracens. 
As  Philip's  zeal  for  the  faith  was  well  known,  and  as  the  great  change  had 
taken  place  soon  after  his  arrival  in  England,  much  of  the  credit  of  it  was 
ascribed  to  him.**  Thus,  before  ascending  the  throne  of  Spain  he  had  vindi- 
cated his  claim  to  the  title  of  Catholic,  so  much  prized  by  the  Spanish 
monarchs.  He  had  won  a  triumph  greater  than  that  which  his  father  had 
been  able  to  win,  after  years  of  war,  over  the  Protestants  of  Germany  ;  greater 
than  any  which  had  been  won  by  the  arms  of  Cortes  or  Pizarro  in  the  New 
World.  Their  contest  had  been  with  the  barbarian ;  the  field  of  Philip's 
labours  was  one  of  the  most  potent  and  civilized  countries  of  Europe. 

The  work  of  conversion  was  speedily  followed  by  that  of  persecution.  To 
what  extent  Philip's  influence  was  exerted  in  this  is  not  manifest.  Indeed, 
from  anything  that  appears,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  decide  whether  his  influ- 
ence was  employed  to  promote  or  to  prevent  it.  One  fact  is  certain,  that, 
immediately  after  the  first  martyrs  suffered  at  Smithfield,  Alfonso  de  Castro, 
a  Spanish  friar,  preached  a  sermon  in  which  he  bitterly  inveighed  against 
these  proceedings.  He  denounced  them  as  repugnant  to  the  true  spirit  of 
'  Christianity,  which  was  that  of  charity  and  forgiveness,  and  which  enjoined  its 
ministers  not  to  take  vengeance  on  the  sinner,  out  to  enlighten  him  as  to  his 
errors  and  bring  him  to  repentance.*6  This  bold  appeal  had  its  effect,  even  in 
that  season  of  excitement.  For  a  few  weeks  the  arm  of  persecution  seemed 
to  be  palsied.  But  it  was  only  for  a  few  weeks.  Toleration  was  not  the  virtue 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  charitable  doctrines  of  the  good  friar  fell  on 
hearts  withered  by  fanaticism ;  and  the  spirit  of  intolerance  soon  rekindled  the 
tires  of  Smithfield  into  a  fiercer  glow  than  before. 

Yet  men  wondered  at  the  source  whence  these  strange  doctrines  had  pro- 
ceeded. The  friar  was  Philip's  confessor.  It  was  argued  that  he  would  not 
have  dared  to  speak  thus  boldly  had  it  not  been  by  the  command  of  Philip,  or 
at  least  by  his  consent.  That  De  Castro  should  have  thus  acted  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  his  master  is  contradicted  by  the  whole  tenor  of  Philip's  life.  Hardly 
four  years  elapsed  before  he  countenanced  by  his  presence  an  auto  de  ft  in 
Valladolid,  where  fourteen  persons  perished  at  the  stake  ;  and  the  burning  of 
heretics  in  England  could  have  done  no  greater  violence  to  his  feelings  than 
the  burning  of  heretics  in  Spain.  If  the  friar  did  indeed  act  in  obedience  to 
Philip,  we  may  well  suspect  that  the  latter  was  influenced  less  by  motives  of 
humanity  tlian  of  policy,  and  that  the  disgust  manifested  by  the  people  at  the 
spectacle  of  these  executions  may  have  led  him  to  employ  this  expedient  to 
relieve  himself  of  any  bliare  in  the  odium  which  attached  to  them.3' 

of  the  legislature  to  the  legate,  delivered  a  dcncla.  agrado.  honras,  y  merccdes,  y  sn  faml- 
•>!••••  i  h,  which  the  historian  given  in  txtenio.  lia  con  la  cortesta  natural  de  Espafla,  que  so 
If  he  t-viT  nuule  Ibe  speech,  it  could  have  been  reduxo  Inglaterra  toda  a  la  obedlcncia  de  la 
un.li-rstiMid  only  by  a  miracle.  For  Philip  Iglesla  Catollca  Roman  a,  y  Be  abjuraron  lis 
could  nut  apeak  Kngliftb,  and  of  Im  audience  errores  y  hereglas  que  corrlan  en  aquel  Key- 
not  "til-  in  a  hundred,  probably,  could  under-  no,"  says  Vanderbammen,  Felipe  el  raidente, 
stand  .Spanish.  But  to  the  Casiillan  historian  p.  4. 

tbe  occasion  might  seem  worthy  of  a  miracle,  "  Strype,  Memorials,  vol.  III.  p.  209. 

—dig-nut  vindice  nodui.  "  Fhllip,  in  a  letter  to  the  Regent  .loannn, 

"  "  Obrarou  de  guerte  Don  Felipe  con  pru-  dated  Brussels,  1557,  seems  to  cla  m  for  him- 


64  ENGLISH  ALLIANCE. 

What  was  the  real  amount  of  Philip's  influence,  in  this  or  other  matters,  it 
is  not  possible  to  determine.  It  is  clear  that  he  was  careful  not  to  arouse  the 
jealousy  of  the  English  by  any  parade  of  it."  One  obvious  channel  of  it  lay 
in  the  queen,  who  seems  to  have  doted  on  him  with  a  fondness  that  one  would 
hardly  have  thought  a  temper  cold  and  repulsive,  like  that  of  Philip,  capable 
of  exciting.  But  he  was  young  and  good-looking.  His  manners  had  always 
been  found  to  please  the  sex,  even  where  he  had  not  been  so  solicitous  to  please 
as  he  was  in  England.  He  was  Mary's  first  and  only  love ;  for  the  emperor 
was  too  old  to  have  touched  aught  but  her  vanity,  and  Courtenay  was  too  fri- 
volous to  have  excited  any  other  than  a  temporary  feeling.  This  devotion  to 
Philip,  according  to  some  accounts,  was  ill  requited  by  nis  gallantries.  The 
Venetian  ambassador  says  of  him  that  "  he  well  deserved  the  tenderness  of  his 
wife,  for  he  was  the  most  loving  and  the  best  of  husbands."  But  it  seems  pro- 
bable that  the  Italian,  in  his  estimate  of  the  best  of  husbands,  adopted  the 
liberal  standard  of  his  own  country. '* 

About  the  middle  of  November,  parliament  was  advised  that  the  queen  was 
in  a  state  of  pregnancy.  The  intelligence  was  received  with  the  joy  usually 
manifested  by  loyal  subjects  on  like  occasions.  The  emperor  seems  to  have 
been  particularly  pleased  with  this  prospect  of  an  heir,  who,  by  the  terms  of 
the  marriage-treaty,  would  make  a  division  of  that  great  empire  which  it  had 
been  the  object  of  its  master's  life  to  build  up  and  consolidate  under  one 
sceptre.  The  commons,  soon  after,  passed  an  act  empowering  Philip,  in  case 
it  should  go  otherwise  than  well  with  the  queen  at  the  time  of  her  confinement, 
to  assume  the  regency  and  take  charge  of  the  education  of  her  child  during  its 
minority.  The  regency  was  to  be  limited  by  the  provisions  of  the  marriage-' 
treaty  ;  but  the  act  may  be  deemed  evidence  that  Philip  had  gamed  on  the 
confidence  of  his  new  subjects. 

The  symptoms  continued  to  be  favourable  ;  and,  as  the  time  approached  for 
Mary's  confinement,  messengers  were  held  in  readiness  to  bear  the  tidings  to 
the  different  courts.  The  loyal  wishes  of  the  people  ran  so  far  ahead  of  reality 
that  a  rumour  went  abroad  of  the  actual  birth  of  a  prince.  Bells  were  rung, 
bonfires  lighted  ;  Te  Deum  was  sung  in  some  of  the  churches  ;  and  one  of  the 
preachers ''took  upon  him  to  describe  the  proportions  of  the  child,  how  fair, 
now  beautiful  and  great  a  prince  it  was,  as  the  like  had  not  been  seen ! " 
"  But  for  all  this  great  labour,"  says  the  caustic  chronicler,  "  for  their  yoong 

self  the  merit  of  having  extirpated  heresy  in  un  pelo  della  capitolationc  del  matrimonio,  ha 

Kngland  by  the  destruction  of  the  hen-tics:  in  tutto  tolta  via  quella  paura  che  da  princi- 

"  Aviendo  apartado  deste  Reyno  las  sec  I  as,  i  pio  fn  grandissima,  che  egli  non  volesse  con 

reduzidole  a  la  obediencia  de  la  Igleeia,  i  avi-  imperio,  <t  con  la  potent ia,  disporre  et  co- 

endo  ido  sempre  en   acrecentamiento  con  el  mandare  delle  cose  a  rnodo  suu."    Kelatione 

castigo  de  los  Krepes  tan  sin  contradiciones  di  Uio.  Micheli,  MS. 

como  se  haze  en  Inglaterra."   (Cabrera,  Filipe  **  "  D'ainor  nasce  1'esser  inamorata  come  e 

Segundo,  lib.  ii.  cap.  6.)    The  emperor,  in  a  et  giustamente  d*-l  marito  per  quel  clie  s'  ha 

letter  from  Yuste,  endorses  this  claim  of  bis  potuto  conoscer  nel  tempo  che  e  stata  seco 

son  to  the  full  extent :  "  Pues  en  Ynglaterr  dallu  natura  et  modi  suoi,  certo  da  innamorar 

se  han  hecho  y  hacen  tantas  y  tan  crudas  jus  ogtmno,  non  cbe  chi  havesse  havuto  la  buona 

ticias  basta  obispos,  por  la  orden  que  alii  b  compagnia  et  il  buon  trattamento  ch'  ell'  ha 

dado,  como  si  fuera  su  Rev  natural,  y  se  lo  havuto.    Tale  in  verita  che  nessun'  altro  po- 

permiten."    Carta  del  Emperador  u  la  Prin-  trebbe  essergli  stato  ne  migliore  ne  piu  amo- 

cesa,  Mayo  25,  1558,  MS.  revol  marito.  .  .  .  Se  appresao  al  martellos' 

-'"  Micheli,  whose  testimony  is  of  the  mor  aggiungtsse  la  gelosia,  della  qual  flu  bora  non 

value  as  he  was  known  to  have  joined  Noailles  si  sa  che  patisca,  perche  se  nun  ha  il  Re  per 

in  his  opposition  to  the  Spanish  match,  tells  casto,  almanco  dico  el  la  so  che  e  libero  dell' 

us  that  Philip  was  scrupulous  in  his  obser-  amor  d'  altra  donna ;  se  fosse  dico  gelosa,  sa- 

vance  of  every  article  of  the  marriage-treaty :  rehbe  veramente  misera."    Relatiune  di  Gio. 

"  Che  non  havendo  alterato  co-a  alcuna  dello  Micheli,  MS. 
stile,  et  forma  del  governo,  non  essendo  uscito 


PHILIP'S  INFLUENCE.  55 

maister  long  looked  for  coming  so  sxirely  into  the  world,  in  the  end  appeared 
neither  yoong  maister  nor  yoong  niaistress,  that  any  man  to  this  day  can  hear 
of." 4' 

The  queen's  disorder  proved  to  be  a  dropsy.  But,  notwithstanding  the 
mortifying  results  of  so  many  prognostics  and  preparations,  and  the  ridicule 
which  attached  to  it,  Mary  still  cherished  the  illusion  of  one  day  giving  an  heir 
to  the  crown.  Her  husband  did  not  share  in  this  illusion  ;  and,  as  he  became 
convinced  that  she  had  no  longer  prospect  of  issue,  he  found  less  inducement 
to  protract  his  residence  in  a  country  which,  on  many  accounts,  was  most 
distasteful  to  him.  Whatever  show  of  deference  might  be  paid  to  him,  his 
haughty  spirit  could  not  be  pleased  by  the  subordinate  part  which  he  was  com- 
pelled to  play,  in  public,  to  the  queen.  The  parliament  had  never  so  far 
acceded  to  Mary's  wishes  as  to  consent  to  his  coronation  as  king  of  England. 
Whatever  weight  he  may  have  had  in  the  cabinet,  it  had  not  been  such  as  to 
enable  him  to  make  the  politics  of  England  subservient  to  his  own  interests, 
or,  what  was  the  same  thing,  to  those  of  his  father.  Parliament  would  not 
consent  to  swerve  so  far  from  the  express  provisions  of  the  marriage-treaty  as 
to  become  a  party  in  the  emperor's  contest  with  France.41 

Nor  could  the  restraint  constantly  imposed  on  Philip  by  his  desire  to  accom- 
modate himself  to  the  tastes  and  habits  of  the  English  be  otherwise  than 
irk>oine  to  him.  If  he  had  been  more  successful  in  this  than  might  have  been 
expected,  yet  it  was  not  possible  to  overcome  the  prejudices,  the  settled  anti- 
pathy, with  which  the  Spaniards  were  regarded  by  the  great  mass  of  the 
people,  as  was  evident  from  the  satirical  shafts  which  from  time  to  time  were 
launched  by  pamphleteers  and  ballad-makers  both  against  the  king  and  his 
followers. 

These  latter  were  even  more  impatient  than  their  master  of  their  stay  in  a 
country  where  they  met  with  so  many  subjects  of  annoyance.  If  a  Spaniard 
bought  anything,  complains  one  of  the  nation,  he  was  sure  to  be  charged  an 
exorbitant  price  for  it.4*  If  he  had  a  quarrel  with  an  Englishman,  says 
another  writer,  he  was  to  be  tried  by  English  law,  and  was  very  certaiii  to 
come  off  the  worst.41  Whether  right  or  wrong,  the  Spaniards  could  hardly 
fail  to  find  abundant  cause  of  irritation  and  disgust.  The  two  nations  were 
too  dissimilar  for  either  of  them  to  comprehend  the  other.  It  was  with  no 
little  satisfaction,  therefore,  that  Philip's  followers  learned  that  their  master 
had  received  a  summons  from  his  father  to  leave  England  and  join  him  in 
Flanders. 

40  Holinshed,  vol.  Iv.  pp.  TO,  82.  necesaarUslongecariuscommnnipretioemere 

•'  Soriano  notices  the  little  authority  that  cogereniur."     Sepulvedaj  Opera,  vol.   ii.  p. 

Philip  seemed  to  possess  In  England,  and  the  601. 

disgust  which  it  occasioned  both  to  him  and  "  "  Quando  occorre  disparere  tra  nn  Inglese 

his  father :    "  L'Iniperatore,  clie  dU>egnava  et  alcun  di  quest  I.  la  giustitia  non  procede  in 

seuipre  cose  grand!,  penao  poterei  acquUtare  quel  modo  chedovria.  .  .  .  Son  tanti  lecavil- 

II  regno  con  occasione  dl  matrimonio  di  quella  latlonl,  le  lunghezze,  et  le  spese  senza  fine  di 

reglna  col  flglluolo ;  ma  non  gli  succesae  quel  quel  lor*  gluditii,  chc  al  torto,  o  al  diritto, 

clie  deoiderava,  percbe  questo  lie  trovd  tant'  convicne  cli'  II  forestlero  soccamba;   ne  lil- 

iinpcdimentl  et  tame  difflcolU  clie  ml  ricordo  sogna  pensar  che  inai  Hi  sottomettessero  1* 

bavere  inteso  da  un  peraonagglo  cbe  S.  M<»-  si  Inglesi  come  I'  altre  nation!  ad  uno  cbe  chia- 

truvava  ogni  giorno  piO  mal  contenta  d*  haver  mano  I'  Alcalde  della  Corte,   spaguuole  di 

atteno  a  quella  prattica,  perche  non  baver  nel  natlonc,  rbe  procede  Bommariaiuente  contra 

regno  ne  autorita  ne  obedieaza,  ne  pure  la  co-  ogn'  uno,  \»-r  vie  pwd  et  termini  Spagnuoli ; 

rona.  ma  solo  uo  certo  nouie  che  servlva  \iiii  havendo  gl'  Ingieni  U  lor  legge,  dalla  quale 

in  apparenza  cbe  in  effetto."    Relatione  di  non  solo  non  «i  partiriaiio,  ma  vogliano  obligar 

Mtchele  Soriano,  MS.  a  quella  tuttl  gl'  altre."    Kelatioue  di  Gio. 

"  "  HUpani  parum  humane  parumque  boa-  Micbcli,  MS. 
pltaliter  a  Britannia  tractabautur,  it*  ut  res 


66  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

The  cause  of  this  sudden  movement  was  one  that  filled  the  Castilians,  as  it 
did  all  Europe,  with  astonishment, — the  proposed  abdication  of  Charles  the 
Fifth.  It  was  one  that  might  seem  to  admit  of  neither  doubt  nor  delay  on 
Philip's  part.  But  Mary,  distressed  by  the  prospect  of  separation,  prevailed 
on  her  husband  to  postpone  his  departure  for  several  weeks.  She  yielded,  at 
length,  to  the  necessity  of  the  case.  Preparations  were  made  for  Philip's 
journey ;  and  Mary,  with  a  heavy  heart,  accompanied  her  royal  consort  down 
the  Thames  to  Greenwich.  Here  they  parted  ;  and  Philip,  taking  an  affec- 
tionate farewell,  and  commending  the  queen  and  her  concerns  to  the  care  of 
Cardinal  Pole,  took  the  road  to  Dover. 

After  a  short  detention  there  by  contrary  winds,  he  crossed  over  to  Calais, 
and  on  the  fourth  of  September  made  his  entry  into  that  strong  place,  the 
last  remnant  of  all  their  continental  acquisitions  that  still  belonged  to  the 
English. 

Philip  was  received  by  the  authorities  of  the  city  with  the  honours  due  to 
his  rank.  He  passed  some  days  there  receiving  the  respectful  courtesies  of 
the  inhabitants,  and  on  his  departure  rejoiced  the  hearts  of  the  garrison  by 
distributing  among  them  a  thousand  crowns  of  gold.  He  resumed  his  journey, 
with  his  splendid  train  of  Castilian  and  English  nobles,  among  whom  were 
the  earls  of  Arundel,  Pembroke,  Huntingdon,  and  others  of  the  highest  station 
in  the  realm.  On  the  road  he  was  met  by  a  military  escort  sent  by  his  father ; 
and  towards  the  latter  part  of  September,  1555,  Philip,  with  his  gallant 
retinue,  made  his  entry  into  the  Flemish  capital,  where  the  emperor  and  his 
court  were  eagerly  awaiting  his  arrival.44 


CHAPTER  V. 

WAK  WITH  THE  POPE. 

Empire  of  Philip— Paul  the  Fourth— Court  of  France— League  against  Spain— The  Duke  of 
A  Iva—  Preparations  for  War — Victorious  Campaign. 

1555,  1556. 

SOON  after  Philip's  arrival  in  Brussels  took  place  that  memorable  scene  of  the 
abdication  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  which  occupies  the  introductory  pages  of  our 
narrative.  By  this  event  Philip  saw  himself  master  of  the  most  widely 
extended  and  powerful  monarchy  in  Europe.  He  was  king  of  Spain,  compre- 
hending under  that  name  Castile,  Aragon,  and  Granada,  which,  after  sur- 
viving as  independent  states  for  centuries,  had  been  first  brought  under  one 
sceptre  in  the  reign  of  his  father,  Charles  the  Fifth.  He  was  king  of  Naples 
ana  Sicily,  and  duke  of  Milan,  which  important  possessions  enabled  him  to 
control  to  a  great  extent  the  nicely-balanced  scales  of  Italian  politics.  He 
was  lord  of  Franche-Comte,  and  of  the  Low  Countries,  comprehending  the 
most  flourishing  and  populous  provinces  in  Christendom,  whose  people  had 
made  the  greatest  progress  in  commerce,  husbandry,  and  the  various  mechanic 
arts.  As  titular  king  of  England,  he  eventually  obtained  an  influence  which, 
as  we  shall  see,  enabled  him  to  direct  the  counsels  of  that  country  to  his  own 
purposes.  In  Africa  he  possessed  the  Cape  de  Verd  Islands  and  the  Canaries, 
as  well  as  Tunis,  Oran,  and  some  other  important  places  on  the  Barbary 

44  Holinshed.   vol.    iv.    p.    80.  —  Strype.        Voyages,    MS.— Leti,   Vita   di   Filippo  II., 
Memorials,   vol.    iii.    p.  227.— Memorial  de       torn.  i.  p.  236. 


EMPIRE  OF  PHILIP.  57 

coast.  He  owned  the  Philippines  and  the  Spice  Islands  in  Asia.  In  America, 
besides  his  possessions  in  the  West  Indies,  he  was  master  of  the  rich  empires 
of  Mexico  and  Peru,  and  claimed  a  right  to  a  boundless  extent  of  country, 
that  offered  an  inexhaustible  field  to  the  cupidity  and  enterprise  of  the  Spanish 
adventurer.  Thus  the  dominions  of  Philip  stretched  over  every  quarter  of 
the  globe.  The  flag  of  Castile  was  seen  in  the  remotest  latitudes,— on  the 
Atlantic,  the  Pacific,  and  the  far-off  Indian  seas, — passing  from  port  to  port, 
and  uniting  by  commercial  intercourse  the  widely  scattered  members  of  her 
vast  colonial  empire. 

The  Spanish  army  consisted  of  the  most  formidable  infantry  in  Europe ; 
veterans  who  had  been  formed  under  the  eye  of  Charles  the  Fifth  and  of  his 
generals,  who  had  fought  on  the  fields  of  Pavia  and  of  Muhlberg,  or  who,  in 
the  New  World,  had  climbed  the  Andes  with  Alniagro  and  Pizarro  and  helped 
these  bold  chiefs  to  overthrow  the  dynasty  of  the  Incas.  The  navy  of  Spain 
and  Flanders  combined  far  exceeded  that  of  any  other  power  in  the  number 
and  size  of  its  vessels  ;  and  if  its  supremacy  might  be  contested  by  England 
on  the  "  narrow  se^s,"  it  rode  the  undisputed,  mistress  of  the  ocean.  To  supply 
the  means  for  maintaining  this  costly  establishment,  as  well  as  the  general 
machinery  of  government,  Philip  had  at  his  command  the  treasures  of  the 
New  World ;  and  if  the  incessant  enterprises  of  his  father  had  drained  the 
exchequer,  it  was  soon  replenished  by  the  silver  streams  that  flowed  in  from 
the  inexhaustible  mines  of  Zacatecas  and  Potosf. 

All  this  vast  empire,  with  its  magnificent  resources,  was  placed  at  the  dis- 
posal of  a  single  man.  Philip  ruled  over  it  with  an  authority  more  absolute 
than  that  possessed  by  any  European  prince  since  the  days  of  the  Caesars. 
The  Netherlands,  indeed,  maintained  a  show  of  independence  under  the 
shadow  of  their  ancient  institutions.  But  they  consented  to  supply  the  neces- 
sities of  the  crown  by  a  tax  larger  than  the  revenues  of  America.  Naples  and 
Milan  were  ruled  by  Spanish  viceroys.  Viceroys,  with  delegated  powers 
scarcely  less  than  those  of  their  sovereign,  presided  over  the  American  colo- 
nies, which  received  their  laws  from  the  parent  country.  In  Spain  itself,  the 
authority  of  the  nobles  was  gone.  First  assailed  under  Ferdinand  and  Isa- 
bella, it  was  completely  broken  down  under  Charles  the  Fifth.  The  liberties 
of  the  commons  were  crushed  at  the  fatal  battle  of  Villalar,  in  the  beginning 
of  that  monarch's  reign.  Without  nobles,  without  commons,  the  ancient 
cortes  had  faded  into  a  mere  legislative  pageant,  with  hardly  any  other  right 
than  that  of  presenting  petitions  and  of  occasionally  raising  an  ineffectual 
note  of  remonstrance  against  abuses.  It  had  lost  the  power  to  redress  them. 
Thus  all  authority  vested  in  the  sovereign.  His  will  was  the  law  of  the  land. 
From  his  palace  at  Madrid  he  sent  forth  the  edicts  which  became  the  law  of 
Spain  and  of  her  remotest  colonies.  It  may  well  be  believed  that  foreign 
nations  watched  with  interest  the  first  movements  of  a  prince  who  seemed  to 
hold  in  his  hands  the  destinies  of  Europe,  and  that  they  regarded  with  no 
little  apprehension  the  growth  of  that  colossal  power  which  had  already  risen 
to  a  height  that  caxt  a  shadow  over  every  other  monarchy. 

From  his  position,  Philip  stood  at  the  head  of  the  Roman  Catholic  princes. 
He  was  in  temporal  matters  what  the  pope  was  in  spiritual.  In  the  existing 
state  of  Christendom,  he  had  the  same  interest  as  the  pope  in  putting  down 
that  spirit  of  religious  reform  which  had  begun  to  show  itself,  in  public  or  in 
private,  in  every  corner  of  Europe.  He  was  the  natural  ally  of  the  pope.  He 
understood  this  well,  and  would  have  acted  on  it  Yet,  strange  to  say,  his 
very  first  war,  after  his  accession,  was  with  the  pope  himself.  It  was  a  war 
not  of  Philip's  seeking. 


68  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

The  papal  throne  was  at  that  time  filled  by  Paul  the  Fourth,  one  of  those 
remarkable  men  who,  amidst  the  shadowy  personages  that  have  reigned  in  the 
Vatican  and  been  forgotten,  have  vindicated  to  themselves  a  permanent  place 
in  history.  He  was  a  Neapolitan  by  birth,  of  the  noble  family  of  the  Caraffas. 
He  was  bred  to  the  religious  profession,  and  early  attracted  notice  by  his 
diligent  application  and  the  fruits  he  gathered  from  it  His  memory  was 
prodigious.  He  was  not  only  deeply  read  in  theological  science,  but  skilled  in 
various  languages,  ancient  and  modern,  several  of  which  he  spoke  with  fluency. 
His  rank,  sustained  by  his  scholarship,  raised  him  speedily  to  high  preferment 
in  the  Church.  In  1513,  when  thirty-six  years  of  age,  he  went  as  nuncio  to 
England.  In  1525  he  resigned  his  benefices,  and,  with  a  small  number  of  his 
noble  friends,  he  instituted  a  new  religious  order,  called  the  Theatins.1  The 
object  of  the  society  was  to  combine,  to  some  extent,  the  contemplative  habits 
of  the  monk  with  trie  more  active  duties  of  the  secular  clergy.  The  members 
visited  the  sick,  buried  the  dead,  and  preached  frequently  in  public,  thus 
performing  the  most  important  functions  of  the  priesthood.  For  this  last 
vocation,  of  public  speaking,  Caraffa  was  peculiarly  qualified  by  a  flow  of 
natural  eloquence  which,  if  it  did  not  always  convince,  was  sure  to  carry  away 
the  audience  by  its  irresistible  fervour.*  The  new  order  showed  itself  particu- 
larly zealous  in  enforcing  reform  in  the  Catholic  clergy  and  in  stemming  the 
tide  of  heresy  which  now  threatened  to  inundate  the  Church.  Caraffa  and  his 
associates  were  earnest  to  introduce  the  Inquisition.  A  life  of  asceticism  and 
penance  too  often  extinguishes  sympathy  with  human  suffering,  and  leads  its 
votaries  to  regard  the  sharpest  remedies  as  the  most  effectual  for  the  cure  of 
spiritual  error. 

From  this  austere  way  of  life  Caraffa  was  called,  in  1536,  to  a  situation 
which  engaged  him  more  directly  in  worldly  concerns.  He  was  made  cardinal 
by  Paul  the  Third.  He  had,  as  far  back  as  the  time  of  Ferdinand  the 
Catholic,  been  one  of  the  royal  council  of  Naples.  The  family  of  Caraffa, 
however,  was  of  the  Angevine  party,  and  regarded  the  house  of  Aragon  in  the 
light  of  usurpers.  The  cardinal  had  been  educated  in  this  political  creed,  and 
even  after  his  elevation  to  his  new  dignity  he  strongly  urged  Paul  the  Third 
to  assert  the  claims  of  the  holy  see  to  the  sovereignty  of  Naples.  This  con- 
duct, which  came  to  the  ears  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  so  displeased  that  monarch 
that  he  dismissed  Caraffa  from  the  council.  Afterwards,  when  the  cardinal 
was  named  by  the  pope,  his  unfailing  patron,  to  the  archbishopric  of  Naples, 
Charles  resisted  the  nomination,  and  opposed  all  the  obstacles  in  his  power  to 
the  collection  of  the  episcopal  revenues.  These  indignities  sank  deep  into  the 
cardinal's  mind,  naturally  tenacious  of  affronts  ;  and  what  at  first  had  been 
only  a  political  animosity  was  now  sharpened  into  personal  hatred  of  the  most 
implacable  character.* 

1  "  Ritoraato  a  Roma,  rinuncio  la  Chiesa  di  also  Relazione  di  Roma  d!  Pernardo  Navagero, 

Chleti,  che  aveva  prima,  e  quella  di  Brindisi,  1558,pui>lishedin  Rela/.ioni  degli  A  m  base  ia  tori 

ritirandosi  aflatto,  e  menando  sempre  vita  Vcneti,  Fircnze,  18-16,  vol.  vii.  p.  378.— Nava- 

privata,  aliena  da  ogni  sorte  dl  pnblico  affare,  grro.  In  his  report  to  the  senate,  dwells  mi- 

anzi,  lasciata  dopo  il  saco  Roma  etesua,  pa>so  nutely  on  the  personal  qualities  as  well  as  the 

a  Verona  e  poi  a  Venezia,  quivi  trattenendosi  policy  of  Paul  the  Fourth,  whose  character 

lungo  tempo  in  compagnia  dl    alcuni  buoni  seems  to  have  been  regarded  as  a.  curious 

Religiosi  della  medesinia  incliriazione,  che  poi  study  by  the  sagacious  Venetian, 

crescendo  di  numero,  ed  in  santita  di  costumi,  "  Relazione  di  Bernardo  Navagero. 

fondarono  la    Congregazinne,  che   oggi,    dal  '  Nores.  Gnerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo 

Titolo  che  aveva  Paolo  ailora  di  Vescovo  Tea-  Secondo,  MS. — Relazione  di  Bernardo  Nava- 

tino,   de  Teatini  tuttavia  ritiene  II  nome."  gero. — Giannone,  Istoria  civile  del  Regno  di 

Relazione   della  Guerra   fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Napoli  (Milano,  1 823 ),  torn.  x.  pp.  11-13. 
Filippo  Secondo,  di  Pietro   Nores,  MS. --See 


PAUL  THE  FOURTH.  69 

Such  was  the  state  of  feeling  when,  on  the  death  of  Marcellus  the  Second, 
in  1555,  Cardinal  Caraffa  was  raised  to  the  papal  throne.  His  election,  as 
was  natural,  greatly  disgusted  the  emperor,  ana  caused  astonishment  through- 
out Europe ;  for  he  had  not  the  conciliatory  manners  which  win  the  favour 
and  the  suffrages  of  mankind  But  the  Catholic  Church  stood  itself  in  need 
of  a  reformer,  to  enable  it  to  resist  the  encroaching  spirit  of  Protestantism. 
This  was  well  understood  not  only  by  the  highest  but  by  the  humblest  ecclesi- 
astics ;  and  in  Caraffa  they  saw  the  man  whose  qualities  precisely  fitted  him 
to  effect  such  a  reform.  He  was,  moreover,  at  the  time  of  his  election,  in  his 
eightieth  year ;  and  age  and  infirmity  have  always  proved  powerful  arguments 
with  the  Sacred  College,  as  affording  the  numerous  competitors  the  best 
guarantees  for  a  speedy  vacancy.  Yet  it  has  more  than  once  happened  that 
the  fortunate  candidate  who  has  owed  his  election  mainly  to  his  infirmities 
has  been  miraculously  restored  by  the  touch  of  the  tiara. 

Paul  the  Fourth — for  such  was  the  name  assumed  by  the  new  pope,  in 
gratitude  to  the  memory  of  his  patron— adopted  a  way  of  life,  on  his  accession, 
for  which  his  brethren  of  the  college  were  not  at  all  prepared.  The  austerity 
and  self-denial  of  earlier  days  formed  a  strong  contrast  to  the  pomp  of  his 
present  establishment  and  the  profuse  luxury  of  his  table.  When  asked  how 
he  would  be  served,  "  How  but  as  a  great  prince  ?  "  he  answered.  He  usually 
passed  three  hours  at  his  dinner,  which  consisted  of  numerous  courses  of  the 
most  refined  and  epicurean  dishes.  No  one  dined  with  him,  though  one  or 
more  of  the  cardinals  were  usually  present,  with  whom  he  freely  conversed ; 
and,  as  he  accompanied  his  meals  with  large  draughts  of  the  thick,  black  wine 
of  Naples,  it  no  doubt  gave  additional  animation  to  his  discourse.4  At  such 
times  his  favourite  theme  was  the  Spaniards,  whom  he  denounced  as  the  scum 
of  the  earth,  a  race  accursed  of  Goo,  heretics  and  schismatics,  the  spawn  of 
Jews  and  of  Moors.  He  bewailed  the  humiliation  of  Italy,  galled  by  the  yoke 
of  a  nation  so  abject.  But  the  day  had  come,  he  would  thunder  out,  when 
Charles  and  Philip  were  to  be  called  to  a  reckoning  for  their  ill-gotten  posses- 
sions, and  be  driven  from  the  land  !  * 

Yet  Paul  did  not  waste  all  his  hours  in  this  idle  vapouring,  nor  in  the 
pleasures  of  the  table.  He  showed  the  same  activity  as  ever  in  the  labours  of 
the  closet  and  in  attention  to  business.  He  was  irregular  in  his  hours,  some- 
times prolonging  his  studies  through  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  and  at 
others  rising  long  before  the  dawn.  When  thus  engaged,  it  would  not  have 
been  well  for  any  one  of  his  household  to  venture  into  his  presence  without  a 
summons. 

Paul  seemed  to  be  always  in  a  state  of  nervous  tension,  "  He  is  all  nervej" 
the  Venetian  minister,  Nayagero.  writes  of  him  ;  "and  when  he  walks,  it  is 
with  a  free,  elastic  step,  as  if  he  hardly  touched  the  ground."  *  His  natural 
arrogance  was  greatly  increased  by  his  elevation  to  the  first  dignity  in 

*  "  Vuolesaeregervitomoltodellcatamente;  11  tempo,  che  sarebbero  curt i gat i  del  loro  peo 
e  ni'l  prim  Ipiu  del  DUO  pontificate  mm  l«inta-  cnti ;  die  perderehbero  li  fltati,  e  cbe  1'  Italia 
vano  ventirlnque  piattl ;  beve  molto  piO  dl  saria  liberal*."    Kelaiione  di  Bernardo  Nava- 
quello   cbe  mangia;    II   vino  e    poftsente  e  gero.—  At  another  time  we  find  the  pope  de- 
gagliardo,  neru  e  Unto  spesao,  die  ni  potria  claiming   against   the   Spaniard*,    now    the 
quasi    tagllare,   e  dimanilaM   mangtaguerra,  nm«t<  r*  of  Italy,  woo  bad  once  been  known 
II  quale  *i  conduce  «UI  n-gnn  di  Napoli."    Ke-  there  only  a*  ita  cooks :  "  Dice  .  .  .  dl  sentire 
lazione  di  Bernardo  Navagero.  inflnito  displace  re,  cbe  quelli  che  colevano 

•  "  Nazlonc  Spagnnola,  odiata  da  lui.  e  cbe  nwere  cuocbi  o  tnozzi  di  stalia  in  Italia, ora  co- 
pgli  solf-va  cliiamar  vile,  ed  abieta,  wnie  dl  niandino."     Kvlazlone  di  Bernardo  Navagero. 
Oiudol,  e  fi-rcla  del  Mondo."     Noiva,  Onerra  *  *  Cammlna  che  non  pare  che  toccbl  tern ; 
fra  Panto  Quarto  e  r'ilippo  Serondo,   MS. —  e  tutto  ner vo  con  poca  came. "    Helazioue  di 
"  Dicenilo  in  priseuzadl  uoltl :  cbecravenuto  Bernardo  Nuvugcro. 


60  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

Christendom.  He  had  always  entertained  the  highest  ideas  of  the  authority 
of  the  sacerdotal  office ;  and  now  that  he  was  in  the  chair  of  St.  Peter  he 
seemed  to  have  entire  confidence  in  his  own  infallibility.  He  looked  on  the 
princes  of  Europe  as  not  so  much  his  sons — the  language  of  the  Church— as 
his  servants,  bound  to  do  his  biddding.  Paul's  way  of  thinking  would  have 
better  suited  the  twelfth  century  than  the  sixteenth.  He  came  into  the  world 
at  least  three  centuries  too  late.  In  all  his  acts  he  relied  solely  on  himself. 
He  was  impatient  of  counsel  from  any  one,  and  woe  to  the  man  who  ventured 
to  oppose  any  remonstrance,  still  more  any  impediment  to  the  execution  of 
his  plans.  He  had  no  migivings  as  to  the  wisdom  of  these  plans.  An  idea 
that  had  once  taken  possession  of  his  mind  lay  there,  to  borrow  a  cant  phrase 
of  the  day?  like  "  a  fixed  fact,"— not  to  be  disturbed  by  argument  or  persuasion. 
We  occasionally  meet  with  such  characters,  in  which  strength  of  will  and 
unconquerable  energy  in  action  pass  for  genius  with  the  world.  They,  in  fact, 
serve  as  the  best  substitute  for  genius,  by  the  ascendency  which  such  qualities 
secure  their  possessors  over  ordinary  minds.  Yet  there  were  ways  of  approach- 
ing the  pontiff,  for  those  who  understood  his  character  and  who  by  conde- 
scending to  flatter  his  humours  could  turn  them  to  their  own  account.  Such 
was  the  policy  pursued  by  some  of  Paul's  kindred,  who,  cheered  by  his 
patronage,  now  came  forth  from  their  obscurity  to  glitter  in  the  rays  of  the 
meridian  sun. 

Paul  had  all  his  life  declaimed  against  nepotism  as  an  opprobrious  sin  in  the 
head  of  the  Church.  Yet  no  sooner  did  he  put  on  the  tiara  than  he  gave  a 
glaring  example  of  the  sin  he  had  denounced,  in  the  favours  which  he  lavished 
on  three  of  his  own  nephews.  This  was  the  more  remarkable  as  they  were 
men  whose  way  of  life  had  given  scandal  even  to  the  Italians,  not  used  to  be 
too  scrupulous  in  their  judgments. 

The  eldest,  who  represented  the  family,  he  raised  to  the  rank  of  a  duke, 
providing  him  with  an  ample  fortune  from  the  confiscated  property  of  the 
Colonnas, — which  illustrious  house  was  bitterly  persecuted  by  Paul  for  its 
attachment  to  the  Spanish  interests. 

Another  of  his  nephews  he  made  a  cardinal, — a  dignity  for  which  he  was 
indifferently  qualified  by  his  former  profession,  which  was  that  of  a  soldier, 
and  still  less  fitted  by  his  life,  which  was  that  of  a  libertine.  He  was  a 
person  of  a  busy,  intriguing  disposition,  and  stimulated  his  uncle's  vindictive 
feelings  against  the  Spaniards,  whom  he  himself  hated  for  some  affront  which 
he  conceived  had  been  put  upon  him  while  in  the  emperor's  service.* 

But  Paul  needed  no  prompter  in  this  matter.  He  very  soon  showed  that, 
instead  of  ecclesiastical  reform,  he  was  bent  on  a  project  much  nearer  to  his 
heart, — the  subversion  of  the  Spanish  power  in  Naples.  Like  Julius  the 
Second,  of  warlike  memory,  he  swore  to  drive  out  the  barbarians  from  Italy. 
He  seemed  to  think  that  the  thunders  of  the  Vatican  were  more  than  a  match 
for  all  the  strength  of  the  empire  and  of  Spain.  But  he  was  not  weak  enough 
to  rely  wholly  on  his  spiritual  artillery  in  such  a  contest  Through  the  French 
ambassador  at  his  court,  he  opened  negotiations  with  France,  and  entered 
into  a  secret  treaty  with  that  power,  by  which  each  of  the  parties  agreed  to 
furnish  a  certain  contingent  of  men  and  money  to  carry  on  the  war  for  the 
recovery  of  Naples.  The  treaty  was  executed  on  the  sixteenth  of  December, 
1555.8 

7  "  Servl  lungo  tempore  1*  Imperatore,  ma  spese,  danni,  disfavore,  psilio  ed  ultimamente 

con  irifelicissimo  evento,  non  avendo  potuto  un  ingiu^tissima  prigionia."    Korea,  Uuerra 

avere  alcuna  ricompensa,  come   egli    stesso  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo  Secondo,  MS. — 

diceva,  in  premio  della  sua  miglior  eta,  e  di  Rtlazione  di  Bernardo  Navagero. 

molte  fatiche,   e  pericoli  sostenuti,  se  non  "  Norep,  Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo 


COURT  OF  FRANCE.  61 

In  less  than  two  months  after  this  event,  on  the  fifth  of  February.  1556, 
the  fickle  monarch  of  France,  seduced  by  the  advantageous  offers  of  Cnarles, 
backed,  moreover,  by  the  ruinous  state  of  his  own  finances,  deserted  his  new 
ally,  and  signed  the  treaty  of  Vaucelles,  which  secured  a  truce  for  five  years 
between  his  dominions  ana  those  of  Philip. 

Paul  received  the  news  of  this  treaty  while  surrounded  by  his  courtiers. 
He  treated  the  whole  with  skepticism,  but  expressed  the  pious  hope  that  such 
a  peace  might  be  in  store  for  the  nations  of  Christendom.  In  private  he  was 
not  so  temperate.  But,  without  expending  his  wrath  in  empty  menaces,  he 
took  effectual  means  to  bring  things  back  to  their  former  state,—  to  induce  the 
French  king  to  renew  the  treaty  with  himself,  and  at  once  to  begin  hostilities. 
He  knew  the  vacillating  temper  of  the  monarch  he  had  to  deal  with.  Cardinal 
Caraffa  was  accordingly  despatched  on  a  mission  to  Paris,  fortified  with  ample 
powers  for  the  arrangement  of  a  new  treaty,  and  with  such  tempting  promises 
on  the  part  of  his  holiness  as  might  insure  its  acceptance  by  the  monarch  and 
his  ministers. 

The  French  monarchy  was  at  that  time  under  the  sceptre  of  Henry  the 
Second,  the  son  of  Francis  the  First,  to  whose  character  his  own  bore  no 
resemblance  ;  or  rather  the  resemblance  consisted  in  those  showy  qualities 
which  lie  too  near  the  surface  to  enter  into  what  may  be  called  character.  He 
affected  a  chivalrous  vein,  excelled  in  the  exercises  of  the  tourney,  and  indulged 
in  vague  aspirations  after  military  renown.  In  short,  he  fancied  himself  a 
hero,  and  seems  to  have  imposed  on  some  of  his  own  courtiers  so  far  as  to 
persuade  them  that  he  was  designed  for  one.  But  he  had  few  of  the  qualities 
which  enter  into  the  character  of  a  hero.  He  was  as  far  from  being  a  hero  as 
he  was  from  being  a  good  Christian,  though  he  thought  to  prove  his  orthodoxy 
by  persecuting  the  Protestants,  who  were  now  rising  into  a  formidable  sect  in 
the  southern  parts  of  his  kingdom.  He  had  little  reliance  on  his  own  resources, 
leading  a  life  of  easy  indulgence,  and  trusting  the  direction  of  his  affairs  to  his 
favourites  and  his  mistresses. 

The  most  celebrated  of  these  was  Diana  of  Poictiers,  created  by  Henry 
duchess  of  Valentinois,  who  preserved  her  personal  charms  and  her  influence 
over  her  royal  lover  to  a  much  later  period  than  usually  happens.  The  persons 
of  his  court  in  whom  the  king  most  confided  were  the  Constable  Montmorency 
and  the  duke  of  Guise. 

Anne  de  Montmorency,  constable  of  France,  was  one  of  the  proudest  of  the 
French  nobility,—  proud  alike  of  his  great  name,  his  rank,  and  his  authority 
with  his  sovereign.  He  had  grown  gray  in  the  service  of  the  court,  and 
Henry,  accustomed  to  his  society  from  boyhood,  had  learned  to  lean  on  him 
for  the  execution  of  his  measures.  Yet  nis  judgments,  though  confidently 
given,  were  not  always  sound.  His  views  were  far  from  being  enlarged  ;  ana, 
though  full  of  courage,  he  showed  little  capacity  for  military  atfairs.  A  con- 
sciousness of  this,  perhaps,  may  have  led  him  to  recommend  a  pacific  policy, 
suite*  I  to  his  own  genius.  He  was  a  staunch  Catholic,  extremely  punctilious 
in  all  the  ceremonies  of  devotion,  and,  if  we  may  credit  Brantome,  would 
strangely  mingle  together  the  military  and  the  religious.  He  rei>eated  his 
Pater-  Noster  at  certain  fixed  hours,  whatever  might  be  his  occupation  at  the 
time.  He  would  occasionally  break  off  to  give  his  orders,  calling  out,  "  Cut 
me  down  such  a  man  !  "  "  Hang  up  another  !  "  "  Run  those  fellows  through 
with  your  lances  !  "  "Set  fire  to  that  village  !  "—and  so  on  ;  when,  having 


o.  MS.—  Summontp,  Hlttoria  della  CittA       278.—  GUnnone,  IstorU  dl  Napoli,  torn.  x.  p. 
e  Regno  dl  Napoll  (.NapoU,  1675),  torn.  Iv.  p.        20. 


62  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

thus  relieved  the  military  part  of  his  conscience,  he  would  go  on  with  his 
Pater- Nosters  as  before.' 

A  very  different  character  was  that  of  his  younger  rival,  Francis,  duke  of 
Guise,  uncle  to  Mary,  queen  of  Scots,  and  brother  to  the  regent.  Of  a  bold, 
aspiring  temper,  filled  with  the  love  of  glory,  brilliant  and  popular  in  his 
address,  he  charmed  the  people  by  his  manners  and  the  splendour  of  his 
equipage  and  dress.  He  came  to  court  attended  usually  by  three  or  four 
hundred  cavaliers,  who  formed  themselves  on  Guise  as  their  model.  His  fine 
person  was  set  off  by  the  showy  costume  of  the  time, — a  crimson  doublet  and 
cloak  of  spotless  ermine,  and  a  cap  ornamented  with  a  scarlet  plume.  In  this 
dress  he  might  often  be  seen,  mounted  on  his  splendid  charger  and  followed 
by  a  gay  retinue  of  gentlemen,  riding  at  full  gallop  through  the  streets  of 
Paris,  and  attracting  the  admiration  of  the  people. 

But  his  character  was  not  altogether  made  up  of  such  vanities.  He  was 
sagacious  in  counsel,  and  had  proved  himself  the  best  captain  of  France.  It 
was  he  who  commanded  at  the  memorable  siege  of  Metz  and  foiled  the  efforts 
of  the  imperial  forces  under  Charles  and  the  duke  of  Alva.  Caraffa  found 
little  difficulty  in  winning  him  over  to  his  cause,  as  he  opened  to  the  ambitious 
chief  the  brilliant  perspective  of  the  conquest  of  Naples.  The  arguments  of 
the  wily  Italian  were  supported  by  the  duchess  of  Valentinois.  It  was  in 
vain  that  the  veteran  Montmorency  reminded  the  king  of  the  ruinous  state 
of  the  finances,  which  had  driven  him  to  the  shameful  expedient  of  putting 
up  public  offices  to  sale.  The  other  party  represented  that  the  condition  of 
Spain,  after  her  long  struggle,  was  little  better ;  that  the  reins  of  government 
had  now  been  transferred  from  the  wise  Charles  to  the  hands  of  his  inex- 
perienced son  ;  and  that  the  co-operation  of  Rome  afforded  a  favourable  con- 
junction of  circumstances,  not  to  be  neglected.  Henry  was  further  allured  by 
Caraffa's  assurance  that  his  uncle  would  grant  to  the  French  monarch  the 
investiture  of  Naples  for  one  of  his  younger  sons,  and  bestow  Milan  on 
another.  The  offer  was  too  tempting  to  be  resisted. 

One  objection  occurred,  in  certain  conscientious  scruples  as  to  the  violation 
of  the  recent  treaty  of  Vaucelles.  But  for  this  the  pope,  who  had  anticipated 
the  objection,  readily  promised  absolution.  As  the  king  also  intimated  some 
distrust  lest  the.  successor  of  Paul,  whose'  advanced  age  made  his  life  pre- 
carious, might  not  be  inclined  to  carry  out  the  treaty,  Caraffa  was  authorized 
to  assure  him  that  this  danger  should  be  obviated  by  the  creation  of  a  batch 
of  French  cardinals,  or  of  cardinals  in  the  French  interest. 

All  the  difficulties  being  thus  happily  disposed  of,  the  treaty  was  executed 
in  the  month  of  July,  1556.  The  parties  agreed  each  to  furnish  about  twelve 
thousand  infantry,  five  hundred  men-at-arms,  and  the  same  number  of  light 
horse.  France  was  to  contribute  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  ducats  to 
the  expenses  of  the  war,  and  Rome  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  The 
French  troops  were  to  be  supplied  with  provisions  by  the  pope,  for  which  they 
were  to  reimburse  his  holiness.  It  was  moreover  agreed  that  the  crown  of 
Naples  should  be  settled  on  a  younger  son  of  Henry,  that  a  considerable  tract 
on  the  northern  frontier  should  be  transferred  to  the  papal  territory,  and 
that  ample  estates  should  be  provided  from  the  new  conquests  for  the  three 

•  Brantume,  who  has  introduced  the  con-  arrivent  matntenant,  il  disoit :    Allez  moy 

stable  into  his  gallery  of  portraits,  has  not  prendre  un  tel ;  attachezceluy  1ft  a  cetarbre  ; 

omitted  this    characteristic  anecdote  :    "  On  faictes  passer  cestuy  la  par  les  picques  tout  a 

disait  qu'il  se  falloit  garder  des  pat«-nostres  ceste  heure,  ou  les  harquebuses  tout  devant 

de  M.  le  connestable,  car  en  les  disant  ct  mar-  moy ;  taillez  moy  en  pieces  tous  ces  marauts," 

mottant  lors  que  les  ocasions  se  presentoient,  etc.    Brantome,  (Euvres  (Paris,  1822),  torn. 

couime  force  desbordemens  et  dcsordres  y  ii.  372. 


THE  DUKE  OF  ALVA.  63 

nephews  of  his  holiness.  In  short,  the  system  of  partition  was  as  nicely 
adjusted  as  if  the  quarry  were  actually  in  their  possession,  ready  to  be  cut  up 
and  divided  among  the  parties.10 

Finally,  it  was  arranged  that  Henry  should  invite  the  Sultan  Solyman  to 
renew  his  former  alliance  with  France  and  make  a  descent  with  his  galleys 
on  the  coast  of  Calabria.  Thus  did  his  most  Christian  majesty,  with  the  pope 
for  one  of  his  allies  and  the  Grand  Turk  for  the  other,  prepare  to  make  war 
on  the  most  Catholic  prince  in  Christendom  ! u 

Meanwhile,  Paul  the  Fourth,  elated  by  the  prospect  of  a  successful  nego- 
tiation, threw  off  the  little  decency  he  had  hitherto  preserved  in  his  deport- 
ment. He  launched  out  into  invectives  more  bitter  than  ever  against  Philip, 
and  in  a  tone  of  defiance  told  such  of  the  Spanish  cardinals  as  were  present 
that  they  might  repeat  his  sayings  to  their  master.  He  talked  of  instituting 
a  legal  process  against  the  king  for  the  recovery  of  Naples,  which  he  had  for- 
feited by  omitting  to  pay  the  yearly  tribute  to  the  holy  see.  The  pretext  was 
ill  founded,  as  the  pope  well  knew.  But  the  process  went  on  with  suitable 
gravity,  and  a  sentence  of  forfeiture  was  ultimately  pronounced  against  the 
Spanish  monarch. 

With  these  important  insults,  Paul  employed  more  effectual  means  of  annoy- 
ance. He  persecuted  all  who  showed  any  leaning  to  the  Spanish  interest. 
He  set  about  repairing  the  walls  of  Rome  and  strengthening  the  garrisons  on 
the  frontier.  His  movements  raised  great  alarm  among  the  Romans,  who 
had  too  vivid  a  recollection  of  their  last  war  with  Spain,  under  Clement  the 
Seventh,  to  wish  for  another.  Garcilasso  de  la  Vega,  who  had  represented 
Philip,  during  his  father's  reign,  at  the  papal  court,  wrote  a  full  account  of 
these  doings  to  the  viceroy  of  Naples.  Garcilasso  was  instantly  thrown  into 
prison.  Taxis,  the  Spanish  director  of  the  posts,  was  both  thrown  into  prison 
and  put  to  the  torture.  Saria,  the  imperial  ambassador,  after  in  vain  remon- 
strating against  these  outrages,  waited  on  the  pope  to  demand  his  passport, 
and  was  kept  standing  a  full  hour  at  the  gate  of  the  Vatican  before  he  was 
admitted.1* 

Philip  had  full  intelligence  of  all  these  proceedings.  He  had  long  since 
descried  the  dark  storm  that  was  mustering  beyond  the  Alps.  He  had  pro- 
vided for  it  at  the  close  of  the  preceding  year,  by  committing  the  government 
of  Naples  to  the  man  most  competent  to  such  a  crisis.  This  was  the  duke  of 
Alva,  at  that  time  governor  of  Milan  and  commander-in-chief  of  the  army  in 
Italy.  As  this  remarkable  person  is  to  occupy  a  large  space  in  the  subsequent 
pages  of  this  narrative,  it  may  be  well  to  give  some  account  of  his  earlier  life. 

Fernando  Alvarez  de  Toledo  was  descended  from  an  illustrious  house  in 
Castile,  whose  name  is  associated  with  some  of  the  most  memorable  events  in 
the  national  history.  He  was  born  in  1508,  and,  while  a  child,  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  lose  his  father,  who  perished  in  Africa,  at  the  siege  of  Gelves.  The 
care  of  the  orphan  devolved  on  his  grandfather,  the  celebrated  conqueror  of 
Navarre.  Under  this  veteran  teacher  the  young  Fernando  received  his  first 
lessons  in  war,  being  present  at  more  than  one  skirmish  when  quite  a  boy. 
This  seems  to  have  sharpened  his  appetite  for  a  soldier's  life,  for  we  find  him 
at  the  age  of  sixteen  secretly  leaving  his  home  and  taking  service  under  the 
banner  of  the  Constable  Velasco,  at  the  siege  of  Fontarabia.  He  was  sub- 

••  Nor*«.  Guerre  Ira  Paola  Quarto  e  Fillppo  "  Gtannone,  Ixtorla di  Napoll,  torn.  x.  p.  19. 

Kecomlo,  MS.-Summonte,  Higtorladl  Napoll,  "  Nore»,  Gwrra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Fllippo 

torn.  Iv.  p.  2HO.— Glannone,  Istoria  dl  Napoll,  Secondo,  MS.— Cart*  del  Puquc  de  Alba  ft  la 

t»m.  x.  p.  21.  —  He  Thou,  HUtoire  universe-lie,  Colwrnadora.  28  de  Julio,  1556,  M.S.— Oian- 

tom.  Hi  p.  23,  ct  seq.  uone,  latoria  di  Naj*!!,  torn.  x.  pp.  15,  1«. 


64  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

sequently  made  governor  of  that  place.  In  1527,  when  not  twenty  years  of 
age,  he  came,  by  his  grandfathers  death,  into  possession  of  the  titles  and 
large  patrimonial  estates  of  the  house  of  Toledo. 

The  capacity  which  he  displayed,  as  well  as  his  high  rank,  soon  made  him 
an  object  of  attention  ;  and  as  Philip  grew  in  years,  the  duke  of  Alva  was 
placed  near  his  person,  formed  one  of  nis  council,  and  took  part  in  the  regency 
of  Castile.  He  accompanied  Philip  on  his  journeys  from  Spain,  and,  as  we 
have  seen,  made  one  of  his  retinue  both  in  Flanders  and  in  England.  The 
duke  was  of  too  haughty  and  imperious  a  temper  to  condescend  to  those  arts 
which  are  thought  to  open  the  most  ready  avenues  to  the  favour  of  the  sove- 
reign. He  met  with  rivals  of  a  finer  policy  and  more  accommodating  disposi- 
tion. Yet  Philip  perfectly  comprehended  his  character.  He  knew  the  strength 
of  his  understanding,  and  did  full  justice  to  his  loyalty  ;  and  he  showed  nis 
confidence  in  his  integrity  by  placing  him  in  offices  of  the  highest  respon- 
sibility. 

The  emperor,  with  his  usual  insight  into  character,  had  early  discerned  the 
military  talents  of  the  young  nobleman.  He  took  Alva  along  with  him  on 
his  campaigns  in  Germany,  where  from  a  subordinate  station  he  rapidly  rose 
to  the  first  command  in  the  army.  Such  was  his  position  at  the  unfortunate 
siege  of  Metz,  where  the  Spanish  infantry  had  nearly  been  sacrificed  to  the 
obstinacy  of  Charles. 

In  his  military  career  the  duke  displayed  some  of  the  qualities  most  charac- 
teristic of  his  countrymen.  But  they  were  those  qualities  which  belong  to  a 
riper  period  of  life.  He  showed  little  of  that  romantic  and  adventurous  spirit 
of  the  Spanish  cavalier  which  seemed  to  court  peril  for  its  own  sake  and  would 
hazard  all  on  a  single  cast.  Caution  was  his  prominent  trait,  in  which  he  was 
a  match  for  any  graybeard  in  the  army, — a  caution  carried  to  such  a  length  as 
sometimes  to  put  a  curb  on  the  enterprising  spirit  of  the  emperor.  Men  were 
amazed  to  see  so  old  a  head  on  so  young  shoulders. 

Yet  this  caution  was  attended  by  a  courage  which  dangers  could  not  daunt, 
and  by  a  constancy  which  toil,  however  severe,  could  not  tire.  He  preferred 
the  surest,  even  though  the  slowest,  means  to  attain  his  object.  He  was  not 
ambitious  of  effect ;  never  sought  to  startle  by  a  brilliant  coup-de-main.  He 
would  not  have  compromised  a  single  chance  in  his  own  favour  by  appealing 
to  the  issue  of  a  battle.  He  looked  steadily  to  the  end,  and  he  moved  surely 
towards  it  by  a  system  of  operations  planned  with  the  nicest  forecast.  The 
result  of  these  operations  was  almost  always  success.  Few  great  commanders 
have  been  more  uniformly  successful  in  their  campaigns.  Yet  it  was  rare  that 
these  campaigns  were  marked  by  what  is  so  dazzling  to  the  imagination  of 
the  young  aspirant  for  glory,— a  great  and  decisive  victory.  Such  were  some 
of  the  more  oovious  traits  in  the  military  character  of  the  chief  to  whom  Philip 
at  this  crisis  confided  the  post  of  viceroy  of  Naples.1* 

"  1  have  three  biographies  of  the  duke  of  not  surprising  that  the  harsher  features  of  the 
Alva,  which  give  a  view  of  his  whole  career.  portrait  should  be  smoothed  down  tinder  the 
The  most  important  is  one  in  Latin,  by  a  friendly  hand  of  the  Jesuit  commemorating 
Spanish  Jesuit  named  Ossorio,  and  entitled  the  detds  of  the  great  champion  of  Catholi- 
Ferdinandi  Toleiani  Alb*  Duels  Vita  et  Res  cism.  A  French  life  of  the  duke,  printed 
gesta?  (Salmanticse,  1669).  The  author  wrote  some  thirty  years  later,  is  only  a  translation 
nearly  a  century  after  the  time  of  his  hero.  of  the  preceding,  Histoire  de  Ferdinand- 
But,  as  he  seems  to  have  had  access  to  the  Alvarez  de  Tolede.  Due  d'All'C  (Pari->,  1691). 
best  sources  of  information,  his  narrative  m>iy  A  wnrk  of  more  pretension  is  entitled  Re- 
be  said  to  rest  on  a  good  foundation.  He  sultas  de  la  Vida  de  Fernando  Alvarez  tercero 
•writes  in  a  sensible  and  business-like  manner,  Puqne  de  Alva.  escrita  por  Don  Juan  An- 
more  ofien  found  iimong  the  Jesuits  than  tonio  de  Vera  y  Figueroa,  Conde  de  la  Roca 
among  the  members  of  the  other  orders.  It  is  (1643).  It  belong.s,  apparently,  to  a  class  of 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  WAR.  65 

Before  commencing  hostilities  against  the  Church,  the  Spanish  monarch 
determined  to  ease  his  conscience  by  obtaining,  if  possible,  a  warrant  for  his 
proceedings  from  the  Church  itself.  He  assembled  a  body  composed  of  theo- 
logians from  Salamanca,  Alcala,  Valladolid,  and  some  other  places,  and  of 
jurists  from  his  several  councils,  to  resolve  certain  queries  which  he  pro- 
pounded. Among  the  rest,  he  inquired  whether,  in  case  of  a  defensive  war 
with  the  pope,  it  would  not  be  lawful  to  sequestrate  the  revenues  of  those 
persons,  natives  or  foreigners,  who  had  benefices  in  Spain,  but  who  refused 
obedience  to  the  orders  of  its  sovereign ;  whether  he  might  not  lay  an  em- 
bargo on  all  revenues  of  the  Church,  and  prohibit  any  remittance  of  moneys 
to  Rome ;  whether  a  council  might  not  be  convoked  to  determine  the  validity 
of  Paul's  election,  which  in  some  particulars  was  supposed  to  have  been 
irregular  ;  whether  inquiry  might  not  be  made  into  the  gross  abuses  of  eccle- 
siastical patronage  by  the  Roman  see,  and  effectual  measures  taken  to  redress 
them.  The  suggestion  of  an  ecclesiastical  council  was  a  menace  that  grated 
unpleasantly  on  the  pontifical  ear,  and  was  used  by  European  princes  as  a  sort 
of  counterblast  to  the  threat  of  excommunication.  The  particular  objects  for 
which  this  council  was  to  be  summoned  were  not  of  a  kind  to  soothe  the 
irritable  nerves  of  his  holiness.  The  conclave  of  theologians  and  jurists  made 
as  favourable  responses  as  the  king  had  anticipated  to  his  several  interroga- 
tories ;  and  Philip,  under  so  respectable  a  sanction,  sent  orders  to  his  viceroy 
to  take  effectual  measures  for  the  protection  of  Naples.14 

Alva  had  not  waited  for  these  orders,  but  had  busily  employed  himself  in 
mustering  his  resources  and  in  collecting  troops  from  the  Abruzzi  and  other 
parts  of  his  territory.  As  hostilities  were  inevitable,  he  determined  to  strike 
the  first  blow,  and  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's  country  before  he  had  time 
to  cross  the  Neapolitan  frontier.  Like  his  master,  however,  the  duke  was 
willing  to  release  himself,  as  far  as  possible,  from  personal  responsibility  before 
taking  up  arms  against  the  head  of  the  Church.  He  accordingly  addressed  a 
manifesto  to  the  pope  and  the  cardinals,  setting  forth  in  glowing  terms  the 
manifold  grievances  of  his  sovereign  ;  the  opprobrious  and  insulting  language 
of  Paul ;  the  indignities  offered  to  Philip's  agents  and  to  the  imperial  ambas- 
sador ;  the  process  instituted  for  depriving  his  master  of  Naples  ;  and  lastly, 
the  warlike  demonstrations  of  the  pope  along  the  frontier,  which  left  no  doubt 
as  to  his  designs.  He  conjured  his  holiness  to  pause  before  he  plunged  his 
country  into  war.  As  the  head  of  the  Church,  it  was  his  duty  to  preserve 
peace,  not  to  bring  war  into  Christendom.  He  painted  the  inevitable  evils  of 
war,  and  the  ruin  and  devastation  which  it  must  bring  on  the  fair  fields  of 
Italy.  If  this  were  done,  it  would  be  the  pope's  doing,  and  his  would  be  the 
responsibility.  On  the  part  of  Naples  the  war  would  be  a  war  of  defence.  For 
himself,  he  had  no  alternative.  He  was  placed  there  to  maintain  the  possessions 
of  his  sovereign  ;  and,  by  the  blesssing  of  God,  he  would  maintain  them  to  the 
last  drop  of  his  blood.'* 

works  not  uncommon  In  Spain,  In  which  Roma  (Madrid,  1580),  p.  14.  —  Sumraonte, 

vague  and  uncertain  statements  take  the  place  Hlstorla  di  Napoli,  torn.  tv.  p.  270. — The  most 

of  nimplf  narrative,  and  the  writer  cover*  up  circumstantial  printed  account  of  this  war  is 

lii.s  stilted  panegyric  with  the  solemn  garb  of  to  b«  fuund  in  the  work  of  Alejandro  A inli r.i, 

moral  philosophy.  a  Neapolitan.  It  was  first  published  In  Italian, 

"  <:iannone,  Istorfa  dl  Napoli,  torn.  x.  p.  at  Venice, and  subsequently  translated  by  the 

37. — Consult*  hccha  a  vario*  letrados  y  ttft-  author  into  Castilian.  and  printed  nt  Madrid, 

logon  relatlvamente  a  Ian  deuvenenclaa  con  Andrea  was  a  soldi!  r  of  some  experience, 

el  Papn,  MS.  Thit  document  I*  preserved  ID  and  hi*  account  of  these  transaction*  is  de- 

tbe  archives  of  Slmancaa.  rived  pa'tly  from  personal  observation,  and 

"  Nores.  Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Fillppo  partly,  a*  he  ti-\\a  u*.  from  the  most  accredited 

.— Andrea Querra  de  Campaba  de  witness**.  The  Spanish  vendon  was  made 

F 


66  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

Alva,  while  making  this  appeal  to  the  pope,  invoked  the  good  offices  of  the 
Venetian  government  in  bringing  about  a  reconciliation  between  Philip  and 
the  Vatican.  His  spiritual  manifesto  to  the  pope  was  intrusted  to  a  special 
messenger,  a  person  of  some  consideration  in  Naples.  The  only  reply  which 
the  hot-headed  pontiff  made  to  it  was  to  throw  the  envoy  into  prison,  and,  as 
some  state,  to  put  him  to  the  torture. 

Meanwhile,  Alva,  who  had  not  placed  much  reliance  on  the  success  of  his 
appeal,  had  mustered  a  force  amounting  in  all  to  twelve  thousand  infantry, 
fifteen  hundred  horse,  and  a  train  of  twelve  pieces  of  artillery.  His  infantry 
was  chiefly  made  up  of  Neapolitans,  some  of  whom  had  seen  but  little  service. 
The  strength  of  his  army  lay  in  his  Spanish  veterans,  forming  one-third  of  his 
force.  The  place  of  rendezvous  was  San  Germane,  a  town  on  the  northern 
frontier  of  the  kingdom.  On  the  first  of  September,  1556,  Alva,  attended  by 
a  gallant  band  of  cavaliers,  left  the  capital,  and  on  the  fourth  arrived  at  the 
place  appointed.  The  following  day  he  crossed  the  borders  at  the  head  of  his 
troops,  and  marched  on  Pontecorvo.  He  met  with  no  resistance  from  the 
inhabitants,  who  at  once  threw  open  their  gates  to  him.  Several  other  places 
followed  the  example  of  Pontecorvo ;  and  Alva,  taking  possession  of  them, 
caused  a  scutcheon  displaying  the  arms  of  the  Sacred  College  to  be  hung  up 
in  the  principal  church  of  each  town,  with  a  placard  announcing  that  he  neld 
it  only  for  the  college,  until  the  election  of  a  new  pontiff.  By  this  act  he 
proclaimed  to  the  Christian  world  that  the  object  of  the  war,  as  far  as  Spain 
was  concerned,  was  not  conquest,  but  defence.  Some  historians  find  in  it  a 
deeper  policy, — that  of  exciting  feelings  of  distrust  between  the  pope  and  the 
cardinals." 

Anagni,  a  place  of  some  strength,  refused  the  duke's  summons  to  surrender. 
He  was  detained  three  days  before  his  guns  had  opened  a  practicable  breach 
in  the  walls.  He  then  ordered  an  assault.  The  town  was  stormed  and 
delivered  up  to  sack, — by  which  phrase  is  to  be  understood  the  perpetration 
of  all  those  outrages  which  the  ruthless  code  of  war  allowed,  in  that  age,  on 
the  persons  and  property  of  the  defenceless  inhabitants,  without  regard  to  sex 
or  age." 

One  or  two  other  places  which  made  resistance  shared  the  fate  of  Anagni ; 
and  the  duke  of  Alva,  having  garrisoned  his  new  conquests  with  such  forces 
as  he  could  spare,  led  his  victorious  legions  against  Tivoli, — a  town  strongly 
situated  on  elevated  ground,  commanding  the  eastern  approaches  to  the 
capital.  The  place  surrendered  without  attempting  a  defence  ;  and  Alva, 
willing  to  give  his  men  some  repose,  made  Tivoli  his  nead-quarters,  while  his 
army  spread  over  the  suburbs  and  adjacent  country,  which  afforded  good 
forage  for  his  cavalry. 

The  rapid  succession  of  these  events,  the  fall  of  town  after  town,  and,  above 
all,  the  dismal  fate  of  Anagni,  filled  the  people  of  Rome  with  terror.  The 
women  began  to  hurry  out  of  the  city ;  mariy  of  the  men  would  have  followed 
but  for  the  interference  of  Cardinal  Caraffa.  The  panic  was  as  great  as  if  the 
enemy  had  been  already  at  the  gates  of  the  capital.  Amidst  this  general 
consternation,  Paul  seemed  to  be  almost  the  only  person  who  retained  his 

at  the  suggestion  of  one  of  Philip's  ministers.  seco  1'  occupar  le  Terre  dpllo  stato  ecclepias- 

— pretty  good  evidence  that  the  writer,  in  his  tico,  tna  veniva  a  sparger  semi  di  discordia,  e 

narrative,  had  demeaned  himself  like  a  loyal  di  sisma,  fra  li  Cardinal!  ed  il  Papa,  tentando 

subject.  d'  alienarli  da  lui,  e  mostrargli  verso  di  loro 

"  Giannone,  Istoria  di  Napoli,  torn.  x.  p.  25.  riverenza  e   rispetto."      Nores,    (ruerra  fra 

— <"ana  del  Duque  de  Alba  a  la  Gobeniadora,  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo  Serondo,  MS. 
8  de  Setiembre,  1556,  MS.—"  In  tal  modo,  non  "  Nores,  Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo 

solo  veniva  a  mitigar  1'  asprezze,  che  portava  Secondo,  MS. 


VICTORIOUS  CAMPAIGN.  67 

self-possession.  Navagero,  the  Venetian  minister,  was  present  when  he 
received  tidings  of  the  storming  of  Anagni,  and  bears  witness  to  the  composure 
with  which  he  went  through  the  official  business  of  the  morning,  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.18  'This  was  in  public  ;  but  the  shock  was  sufficiently  strong  to 
strike  out  some  sparkles  of  his  fiery  temper,  as  those  found  who  met  him  that 
day  iu  private.  To  the  Venetian  agent  who  had  come  to  Rome  to  mediate  a 
peace,  and  who  pressed  him  to  enter  into  some  terms  of  accommodation  with  the 
Spaniards,  he  haughtily  replied  that  Alva  must  first  recross  the  frontier,  and 
then,  H  he  had  aught  to  solicit,  prefer  his  petition  like  a  dutiful  son  of  the 
Church.  This  course  was  not  one  very  likely  to  be  adopted  by  the  victorious 
general." 

In  an  interview  with  two  French  gentlemen,  who,  as  he  had  reason  to  sup- 
pose, were  interesting  themselves  in  the  affair  of  a  peace,  he  exclaimed, 
"Whoever  would  bring  me  into  a  peace  with  heretics  is  a  servant  of  the 
Devil.  Heaven  will  take  vengeance  on  him.  I  will  pray  that  God's  curse  may 
fall  on  him.  If  I  find  that  you  intermeddle  in  any  such  matter,  I  will  cut 
your  heads  off  your  shoulders.  Do  not  think  this  an  empty  threat.  I  have 
an  eye  in  my  back  on  you,"— quoting  an  Italian  proverb, — "  and  if  I  find  you 
playing  me  false,  or  attempting  to  entangle  me  a  second  time  in  an  accursed 
truce,  I  swear  to  you  by  the  eternal  God,  I  will  make  your  heads  fly  from 
your  shoulders,  come  what  may  come  of  it ! "  "  In  this  way,"  concludes  the 
narrator,  one  of  the  parties,  "his  holiness  continued  for  nearly  an  hour, 
walking  up  and  down  the  apartment,  and  talking  all  the  while  of  his  own 
grievances  and  of  cutting  off  our  heads,  until  he  had  talked  himself  quite  out 
of  breath."" 

But  the  valour  of  the  pope  did  not  expend  itself  in  words.  He  instantly  set 
about  putting  the  capital  in  the  best  state  of  defence.  He  taxed  the  people 
to  raise  funds  for  his  troops,  drew  in  the  garrisons  from  the  neighbouring 
places,  formed  a  body-guard  of  six  or  seven  hundred  horse,  and  soon  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  his  Roman  levies,  amounting  to  six  thousand  infantry, 
well  equipped  for  the  war.  They  made  a  brave  show,  with  their  handsome 
uniforms  and  their  banners  richly  emblazoned  with  the  pontifical  arms.  As 
they  passed  in  review  before  his  holiness,  who  stood  at  one  of  the  windows  of 
his  palace,  he  gave  them  his  benediction.  But  the  edge  of  the  Roman  sword, 
according  to  an  old  proverb,  was  apt  to  be  blunt ;  and  these  holiday  troops 
were  soon  found  to  be  no  match  for  the  hardy  veterans  of  Spain. 

Among  the  soldiers  at  the  pope's  disposal  was  a  body  01  German  merce- 
naries, who  followed  war  as  a  trade,  and  let  themselves  out  to  the  highest 
bidder.  They  were  Lutherans,  with  little  knowledge  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
religion,  and  less  respect  for  it  They  stared  at  its  rites  as  mummeries,  and 
made  a  jest  of  its  most  solemn  ceremonies,  directly  under  the  eyes  of  the  pope. 
But  Paul,  who  at  other  times  would  have  punished  oHences  like  these  with  the 
gibbet  and  the  stake,  could  not  quarrel  with  his  defenders,  and  was  obliged  to 
digest  his  mortification  as  he  best  might.  It  was  remarked  that  the  times 
were  sadly  put  of  joint,  when  the  head  of  the  Church  had  heretics  for  his  allies 
and  Catholics  for  his  enemies.*1 

"  "  Stnva  intrepido.parlaiMto  delle  com  ap-  veda,  De  Helms  gratis  Phllippi  II.,  lib.  i.  cap. 

j'-irti  III-MII  *  quel'  ufflzio,  come   se  non  ri  17. 

fume  alcuna  sosperione  <li  guerra,  non  cbe  gl'  •"  Sismondl,  HUtoIre  des    Frangais,   torn. 

Inimici  ftiKwro  viciiu  alle  porte."    Itelazione  xvilt.  p.  17. 

di  llrnianlo  Navagero.  "  "Quol    Pontefice,  chc   per  clasouna   dl 

"  "  I'uiitilrx  earn  condltlonem  ad  se  rclatam  queote  cone  cbe  foBKe  casrata  in  un  proc«x*n, 

ft'pcrnalUH  in    eo    perntatrbat,   ut    Allwnim  avrebl<e  condannato  ognuno  alia  morte  ed  al 

copia.i  ilomiini  reducerct,  deinde  quod  vrllet,  fuuco,  le  k-llerava  in  querti,  come  in  *uoi  de- 

a  K  supplicil-u*  predbun  poatularet."    Sepul-  fensori."     Relaziune  di  Bernardo  Navagero. 


68  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

Meanwhile  the  duke  of  Alva  was  lying  at  Tivoli.  If  he  had  taken  advantage 
of  the  panic  caused  by  his  successes,  he  might,  it  was  thought,  without  much 
difficulty  have  made  himself  master  of  the  capital.  But  this  did  not  suit  his 
policy,  which  was  rather  to  bring  the  pope  to  terms  than  to  ruin  him.  He 
was  aesirous  to  reduce  the  city  by  cutting  off  its  supplies.  The  possession  of 
Tivoli,  as  already  noticed,  enabled  him  to  command  the  eastern  approaches  to 
Rome,  and  he  now  proposed  to  make  himself  master  of  Ostia  and  thus  destroy 
the  communications  with  the  coast. 

Accordingly,  drawing  together  his  forces,  he  quitted  Tivoli,  and  directed  his 
march  across  the  Campagna,  south  of  the  Roman  capital.  On  his  way  lie 
made  himself  master  of  some  places  belonging  to  the  holy  see,  and  in  the 
early  part  of  November  arrived  before  Ostia  and  took  up  a  position  on  the 
banks  of  the  Tiber,  where  it  spread  into  two  branches,  the  northern  one  of 
which  was  called  the  Fiumicino,  or  little  river.  The  town,  or  rather  village, 
consisted  of  only  a  few  straggling  houses,  very  different  from  the  proud  Ostia 
whose  capacious  harbour  was  once  filled  with  the  commerce  of  the  world.  It 
was  protected  by  a  citadel  of  some  strength,  garrisoned  by  a  small  but  picked 
body  of  troops,  so  indifferently  provided  with  military  stores  that  it  was  clear 
the  government  had  not  anticipated  an  attack  in  this  quarter. 

The  duke  ordered  a  number  of  boats  to  be  sent  round  from  Nettuno,  a  place 
on  the  coast,  of  which  he  had  got  possession.  By  means  of  these  he  formed  a 
bridge,  over  which  he  passed  a  small  detachment  of  his  army,  together  with 
his  battering  train  of  artillery.  The  hamlet  was  easily  taken,  but,  as  the 
citadel  refused  to  surrender,  Alva  laid  regular  siege  to  it.  He  constructed  two 
batteries,  on  which  he  planted  his  heavy  guns,  commanding  opposite  quarters 
or  the  fortress.  He  then  opened  a  lively  cannonade  on  the  outworks,  which 
was  returned  with  great  spirit  by  the  garrison. 

Meanwhile  he  detached  a  considerable  body  of  horse,  under  Colonna,  who 
swept  the  country  to  the  very  walls  of  Rome.  A  squadron  of  cavalry,  whose 
gallant  bearing  had  filled  the  heart  of  the  old  pope  with  exultation,  sallied  out 
against  the  marauders.  An  encounter  took  place  not  far  from  the  city.  The 
Romans  bore  themselves  up  bravely  to  the  shock  ;  but,  after  splintering  their 
lances,  they  wheeled  about,  and,  without  striking  another  blow,  abandoned 
the  field  to  the  enemy,  who  followed  them  up  to  the  gates  of  the  capital. 
They  were  so  roughly  handled  in  their  flight  that  the  valiant  troopers  could 
not  he  induced  again  to  leave  their  walls,  although  Cardinal  Caraffa — who  had 
'  a  narrow  escape  from  the  enemy — sallied  out  with  a  handful  of  his  followers, 
to  give  them  confidence.4* 

During  this  time  Alva  was  vigorously  pressing  the  siege  of  Ostia ;  but, 
though  more  than  a  week  had  elapsed,  the  besieged  showed  no  disposition  to 
surrender.  At  length  the  Spanish  commander,  on  the  seventeenth  of  No- 
vember, finding  his  ammunition  nearly  expended,  and  his  army  short  of  pro- 
visions, determined  on  a  general  assault.  Early  on  the  following  morning, 
after  hearing  mass  as  usual,  the  duke  mounted  his  horse,  and,  riding  among 
the  ranks  to  animate  the  spirits  of  his  soldiers,  gave  orders  for  the  attack.  A 
corps  of  Italians,  was  first  detached,  to  scale  the  works ;  but  they  were 
repulsed  with  considerable  loss.  It  was  found  impossible  for  their  officers  to 
rally  them  and  bring  them  back  to  the  assault.  A  picked  body  of  Spanish 
infantry  was  then  despatched  on  this  dangerous  service.  With  incredible 
difficulty  they  succeeded  in  scaling  the  ramparts,  under  a  storm  of  combus- 
tibles and  other  missiles  hurled  down  by  the  garrison,  and  effected  an  entrance 
into  the  place.  But  here  they  were  met  with  a  courage  as  dauntless  as  their 

"  Nores,  Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filijipo  Secondo,  MS. 


VICTORIOUS  CAMPAIGN.  69 

own.  The  struggle  was  long  and  desperate.  There  had  been  no  such  fighting 
in  the  course  of  the  campaign.  At  length,  the  duke,  made  aware  of  the 
severe  loss  sustained  by  his  men,  and  of  the  impracticability  of  the  attempt, 
as  darkness  was  setting  in,  gave  the  signal  for  retreat.  The  assailants  had 
doubtless  the  worst  of  it  in  the  conflict ;  but  the  besieged,  worn  out  with 
fatigue,  with  their  ammunition  nearly  exhausted,  and  almost  without  food, 
did  not  feel  themselves  in  condition  to  sustain  another  assault  on  the  following 
day.  On  the  nineteenth  of  November,  therefore,  the  morning  after  the  con- 
flict, the  brave  garrison  capitulated,  and  were  treated  with  honour  as  prisoners 
of  war.13 

The  fate  of  the  campaign  seemed  now  to  be  decided.  The  pope,  with  his 
principal  towns  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  his  communications  cut  off  both 
with  the  country  and  the  coast,  may  well  have  felt  his  inability  to  contend 
thus  single-handed  against  the  power  of  Spain.  At  all  events,  his  subjects 
felt  it,  and  they  were  not  deterred  by  his  arrogant  bearing  from  clamouring 
loudly  against  the  continuance  of  this  ruinous  war.  But  Paul  would  not  hear 
of  a  peace.  However  crippled  by  his  late  reverses,  he  felt  confident  of  repair- 
ing them  all  on  the  arrival  of  the  French,  who,  as  he  now  learned  with  joy, 
were  in  full  march  across  the  territory  of  Milan.  He  was  not  so  disinclined  to 
a  truce,  which  might  give  time  for  their  coming. 

Cardinal  Carafta,  accordingly,  had  a  conference  with  the  duke  of  Alva,  and 
entered  into  negotiations  with  him  for  a  suspension  of  arms.  The  proposal 
was  not  unwelcome  to  the  duke,  who,  weakened  by  losses  of  every  kind,  was 
by  no  means  in  condition  at  the  end  of  an  active  campaign  to  contend  with  a 
fresh  army  under  the  command  of  so  practised  a  leader  as  the  duke  of  Guise. 
He  did  not  care  to  expose  himself  a  second  time  to  an  encounter  with  th° 
French  general,  under  disadvantages  nearly  as  great  as  those  which  had  foiled 
him  at  Metz. 

With  these  amiable  dispositions,  a  truce  was  soon  arranged  between  the 
parties,  to  continue  forty  days.  The  terms  were  honourable  to  Alva,  since 
they  left  him  in  possession  of  all  his  conquests.  Having  completed  these 
arrangements,  the  Spanish  commander  broke  up  his  camp  on  the  southern 
bank  of  the  Tiber,  recrossed  the  frontier,  and  in  a  few  days  made  his  tri- 
umphant entry,  at  the  head  of  his  battalions,  into  the  city  of  Naples.*4 

So  ended  the  first  campaign  of  the  war  with  Rome.  It  had  given  a  severe 
lesson,  that  might  have  shaken  the  confidence  and  humbled  the  pride  of  a 
pontiff  less  arrogant  than  Paul  the  Fourth.  But  it  served  only  to  deepen  his 
hatred  of  the  Spaniards,  and  to  stimulate  his  desire  for  vengeance. 

"  The  details  of  the  siege  of  Ostia  are  given  of  allowing  the  French  time  to  enter  Italy 

with  moreor  lew  minuteness  by  Nores,  Guerra  and  combine  with  the  pope.—"  El  etnperador 

fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Kilippo  becondo,  MS. —  ov6  todo  lo  qne  v.  nr'.  dize  del  duque  y  de 

Andrea.  Guerra  de  Roma.  p.  72,  et  seq., —  Italia,  y  ha  toniado  imiy  inal  el  haver  dado 

Campana,  Vita  del  Catholico  Don  Filippo  el  duque  oidos  a  suspension  de  armas,  y 

Secondo,  con  le  Guerre  de  suoi  Tempi  (.VI-  muclio  mas  de  haver  prorrogado  el  plazn,  por 

cenza,  1605),  torn.  II.  fol.  146,  147,  —  Cabn  ra,  parecelle  que  wnl  instrumento  para  que  la 

Fillpp  Srgundo,  lib.  il.  r  ,p.  16.  grnte  del  Key  que  baxava  a  Piamnnte  si>  jun- 

"  Nores.  Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo  tnnso  con  la  del  Papa,  6  qucsta  Hilacion  fu-ra 

Secondo,  MS.— Andrea,  Guerra  de  Roma,  p.  nrcwitar  al  duque.  y  estorvalle  el  eflecto  que 

86,  et  seq — The  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth,  pudiera  hazer,  r\  prosignipra  cu  vitoriu  des- 

wh-n  on  his  way  to  route,  took  a  very  differ*  pne*  de  habcr  ganado  u  Ontla,  y  entrc  dientea 

ent  view  from  Alva's  of  the  truce,  rating  the  dixo  otra*  COMB  que  no  pnde  comprehender." 

duke  roundly  for  not  having  followed  up  the  Tarta  de  Martin  de  Gaztelu  a  Juan  Vazquez, 

capture  of  Ottia  by  a  decisive  blow,  instead  Enero  10,  1557,  MS. 


70  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WAR  WITH   THE   POPE. 

Guise  enters  Italy— Operations  in  the  Abruzzi— Siege  of  Civitella— Alva  drives  out  the  French 
—Rome  menaced  by  the  Spaniards — Paul  consents  to  peace — His  subsequent  Career 

1557. 

WHILE  the  events  recorded  in  the  preceding  pages  were  passing  in  Italy,  the 
French  array,  under  the  duke  of  Guise,  had  arrived  on  the  borders  of  Piedmont. 
That  commander,  on  leaving  Paris,  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  force  con- 
sisting of  twelve  thousand  infantry,  of  which  five  thousand  were  Swiss,  and 
the  rest  French,  including  a  considerable  number  of  Gascons.  His  cavalry 
amounted  to  two  thousand,  and  he  was  provided  with  twelve  pieces  of  artillery. 
In  addition  to  this,  Guise  was  attended  by  a  gallant  body  of  French  gentle- 
men, young  for  the  most  part,  and  eager  to  win  laurels  under  the  renowned 
defender  of  Metz. 

The  French  army  met  with  no  opposition  in  its  passage  through  Piedmont. 
The  king  of  Spain  had  ordered  the  government  of  Mflan  to  strengthen  the 
garrisons  of  the  fortresses,  but  to  oppose  no  resistance  to  the  French,  unless 
the  latter  began  hostilities.1  Some  of  the  duke's  counsellors  would  have  per- 
suaded him  to  do  so.  His  father-in-law,  the  duke  of  Ferrara,  in  particular, 
who  had  brought  him  a  reinforcement  of  six  thousand  troops,  strongly  pressed 
the  French  general  to  make  sure  of  the  Milanese  before  penetrating  to  the 
south  ;  otherwise  he  would  leave  a  dangerous  enemy  in  his  rear.  The  Italian 
urged,  moreover,  the  importance  of  such  a  step  in  giving  confidence  to  the 
Angevine  faction  in  Naples,  and  in  drawing  over  to  France  those  states  which 
hesitated  as  to  their  policy  or  which  had  but  lately  consented  to  an  alliance 
with  Spain. 

France  at  this  time  exercised  but  little  influence  in  the  counsels  of  the 
Italian  powers.  Genoa,  after  an  ineffectual  attempt  at  revolution,  was  devoted 
to  Spain.  The  co-operation  of  Cosmo  de'  Medici,  then  lord  of  Tuscany,  had 
been  secured  by  the  cession  of  Sienna.  The  duke  of  Parma,  who  had  co- 
quetted for  some  time  with  the  French  monarch,  was  won  over  to  Spain  by 
the  restoration  of  Placentia,  of  which  he  had  been  despoiled  by  Charles  the 
Fifth.  His  young  son,  Alexander  Farnese,  was  sent  as  a  hostage,  to  be 
educated  under  Philip's  eye,  at  the  court  of  Madrid, — the  fruits  of  which 
training  were  to  be  gathered  in  the  war  of  the  Netherlands,  where  he  proved 
himself  the  most  consummate  captain  of  his  time.  Venice,  from  her  lonely 
watch-tower  on  the  Adriatic,  regarded  at  a  distance  the  political  changes  of 
Italy,  prepared  to  profit  by  any  chances  in  her  own  favour.  Her  conservative 
policy,  however,  prompted  her  to  maintain  things  as  far  as  possible  in  their 
present  position.  She  was  most  desirous  that  the  existing  equilibrium  should 
not  be  disturbed  by  the  introduction  of  any  new  power  on  the  theatre  of  Italy  ; 
and  she  had  readily  acquiesced  in  the  invitation  of  the  duke  of  Alva  to  mediate 
an  accommodation  between  the  contending  parties.  This  pacific  temper  found 
little  encouragement  from  the  belligerent  pontiff  who  had  brought  the  war 
upon  Italy. 

The  advice  of  the  duke  of  Ferrara,  however  judicious  in  itself,  was  not 
relished  by  his  son-in-law,  the  duke  of  Guise,  who  was  anxious  to  press  forward 

1  Sepulveda,  De  Rebus  gestis  Philippi  II.,  p.  13. 


OPERATIONS  IN  THE  ABRUZZI.          71 

to  Naples  as  the  proper  scene  of  his  conquests.  The  pope,  too,  called  on  him 
in  the  most  i>eremptory  terms,  to  hasten  his  march,  as  Naples  was  the  object 
of  the  expedition.  The  French  commander  had  the  address  to  obtain  instruc- 
tions to  the  same  effect  from  his  own  court,  by  which  he  affected  to  be  decided. 
His  Italian  father-in-law  was  so  much  disgusted  by  this  determination  that 
he  instantly  quitted  the  camp  and  drew  off' his  six  thousand  soldiers,  declaring 
that  he  needea  all  he  could  muster  to  protect  his  own  states  against  the  troops 
of  Milan.1 

Thus  shorn  of  his  Italian  reinforcement,  the  duke  of  Guise  resumed  his 
march,  and,  entering  the  States  of  the  Church,  followed  down  the  shores  of 
the  Adriatic,  passing  through  Ravenna  and  Rimini ;  then,  striking  into  the 
interior,  he  halted  at  Gesi.  where  he  found  good  accommodations  for  his  men 
and  abundant  forage  for  the  horses. 

Leaving  his  army  in  their  pleasant  quarters,  he  soon  after  repaired  to  Rome, 
in  order  to  arrange  with  the  pope  the  plan  of  the  campaign.  He  was  graciously 
received  by  Paul,  who  treated  him  with  distinguished  honour  as  the  loyal 
champion  of  the  Church.  Emboldened  by  the  presence  of  the  French  army 
in  his  dominions,  the  pope  no  longer  hesitated  to  proclaim  the  renewal  of  the 
war  against  Spain.  The  Roman  levies,  scattered  over  the  Campagna,  assaulted 
the  places,  but  feebly  garrisoned  by  the  Spaniards.  Most  of  them,  including 
Tivoli  and  Ostia,  were  retaken  ;  and  the  haughty  bosom  of  the  pontiff  swelled 
with  exultation  as  he  anticipated  the  speedy  extinction  of  the  Spanish  rule  in 
Italy. 

After  some  days  consumed  in  the  Vatican,  Guise  rejoined  his  army  at  Gesi. 
He  was  fortified  by  abundant  assurances  of  aid  from  his  holiness,  and  he  was 
soon  joined  by  one  of  Paul's  nephews,  the  duke  of  Montebello,  with  a  slender 
reinforcement  It  was  determined  to  cross  the  Neapolitan  frontier  at  once, 
and  to  begin  operations  by  the  siege  of  Campli. 

This  was  a  considerable  place,  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  fruitful  territory. 
The  native  population  had  been  greatly  increased  by  the  influx  of  people  from 
the  surrounding  country,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  Campli  as  a  place  of  se- 
curity. But  they  did  little  for  its  defence.  It  did  not  long  resist  the  impetu- 
osity of  the  French,  who  carried  the  town  by  storm.  The  men— all  who  made 
resistance — were  put  to  the  sword.  The  women  were  abandoned  to  the 
licentious  soldiery.  The  houses,  first  pillaged,  were  then  fired  ;  and  the  once 
flourishing  place  was  soon  converted  into  a  heap  of  smouldering  ruins.  The 
booty  was  great,  for  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood  had  brought  their  effects 
thither  for  safety,  and  a  large  amount  of  gold  and  silver  was  found  in  the 
dwellings.  The  cellars,  too,  were  filled  with  delicate  wines  ;  and  the  victors 
abandoned  themselves  to  feasting  and  wassail,  while  the  wretched  citizens 
wandered  like  spectres  amidst  the  ruins  of  their  ancient  habitations.1 

The  fate  of  Italy,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  was  hard  indeed.  She  had 
advanced  far  beyond  the  age  in  most  of  the  arts  which  belong  to  a  civilized 
community.  Her  cities,  even  her  smaller  towns,  throughout  the  country,  dis- 
played the  evidences  of  architectural  taste.  They  were  filled  with  stately 
temples  and  elegant  mansions  ;  the  squares  were  ornamented  with  fountains 
of  elaborate  workmanship  ;  the  rivers  were  spanned  by  arches  of  solid  masonry. 
The  private  as  well  as  public  edifices  were  furnished  with  costly  works  of  art, 
of  which  the  value  was  less  in  the  material  tlian  in  the  execution.  A  gcnera- 

1  Noreg,  Ouerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Flllppo  Sccondo,  MS. — Andrea,  fluerra  de  Roma,  p. 

Secondo,  MS.  —  Andrea,  Ouerra  d«  Roma,  220.— !><•  Thou,  Illstoire  unlversclle,  torn.  III. 

p.  165.  p.  ««.— Cabrera,  Fllipe  Seguudo,  liu.  Hi.  cap. 

1  Norc8,Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Fllippo  ». 


72  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

tion  had  scarcely  passed  since  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael  had  produced  their 
miracles  of  sculpture  and  of  painting ;  and  now  Correggio,  Paul  Veronese,  and 
Titian  were  filling  their  country  with  those  immortal  productions  which  have 
been  the  delight  and  the  despair  of  succeeding  ages.  Letters  kept  pace  with 
art.  The  magical  strains  of  Ariosto  had  scarcely  died  away  when  a  greater 
bard  had  arisen  in  Tasso,  to  take  up  the  tale  of  Christian  chivalry.  This 
extraordinary  combination  of  elegant  art  and  literary  culture  was  the  more 
remarkable  from  the  contrast  presented  by  the  condition  of  the  rest  of  Europe, 
then  first  rising  into  the  light  of  a  higher  civilization.  But,  with  all  this 
intellectual  progress,  Italy  was  sadly  deficient  in  some  qualities  found  among 
the  hardier  sons  of  the  north,  and  which  seem  indispensable  to  a  national  exist- 
ence. She  could  boast  of  her  artists,  her  poets,  her  politicians  ;  but  of  few  real 
patriots,  few  who  rested  their  own  hopes  on  the  independence  of  their  country. 
The  freedom  of  the  old  Italian  republics  had  passed  away.  There  was  scarcely 
one  that  had  not  surrendered  its  liberties  to  a  master.  The  principle  of  union 
for  defence  against  foreign  aggression  was  as  little  understood  as  the  principle 
of  political  liberty  at  home.  The  states  were  jealous  of  one  another.  The 
cities  were  jealous  of  one  another,  and  were  often  torn  by  factions  within 
themselves.  Thus  their  individual  strength  was  alike  ineffectual  whether  for 
self-government  or  self-defence.  The  gift  of  beauty  which  Italy  possessed  in 
so  extraordinary  a  degree  only  made  her  a  more  tempting  prize  to  the  spoiler, 
whom  she  had  not  the  strength  or  the  courage  to  resist.  The  Turkish  corsair 
fell  upon  her  coasts,  plundered  her  maritime  towns,  and  swept  off  their  inhabi- 
tants into  slavery.  The  European,  scarcely  less  barbarous,  crossed  the  Alps, 
and,  striking  into  the  interior,  fell  upon  the  towns  and  hamlets  that  lay 
sheltered  among  the  hills  and  in  the  quiet  valleys,  and  converted  them  into 
heaps  of  ruins.  Ill  fares  it  with  the  land  which,  in  an  age  of  violence,  has 
given  itself  up  to  the  study  of  the  graceful  and  the  beautiful,  to  the  neglect  of 
those  hardy  virtues  which  can  alone  secure  a  nation's  independence. 

From  the  smoking  ruins  of  Campli,  Guise  led  his  troops  against  Civitella,  a 
town  but  a  few  miles  distant.  It  was  built  round  a  conical  hill,  the  top  of 
which  was  crowned  by  a  fortress  Avell  lined  with  artillery.  It  was  an  important 
place  for  the  command  of  the  frontier,  and  the  duke  of  Alva  had  thrown  into 
it  a  garrison  of  twelve  hundred  men  under  the  direction  of  an  experienced 
officer,  the  marquis  of  Santa  Fiore.  The  French  general  considered  that  the 
capture  of  this  post,  so  soon  following  the  sack  of  Campli,  would  spread  terror 
among  the  Neapolitans,  and  encourage  those  of  the  Angevine  faction  to  declare 
openly  in  his  favour. 

As  the  place  refused  to  surrender,  he  prepared  to  besiege  it  in  form,  throw- 
ing up  intrenchments,  and  only  waiting  for  his  heavy  guns  to  begin  active 
hostilities.  He  impatiently  expected  their  arrival  for  some  days,  when  he 
caused  four  batteries  to  be  erected,  to  operate  simultaneously  against  four 
quarters  of  the  town.  After  a  brisk  cannonade,  which  was  returned  by  the 
besieged  with  equal  spirit,  and  with  still  greater  loss  to  the  enemy,  from  his 
exposed  position,  the  duke,  who  had  opened  a  breach  in  the  works,  prepared 
for  a  general  assault.  It  was  conducted  with  the  usual  impetuosity  of  the 
French,  but  was  repulsed  with  courage  by  the  Italians.  More  than  once  the 
assailants  were  brought  up  to  the  breach,  and  as  often  driven  back  with 
slaughter.  The  duke,  convinced  that  he  had  been  too  precipitate,  was  obliged 
to  sound  a  retreat,  and  again  renewed  the  cannonade  from  his  batteries, 
keeping  it  up  night  and  day,  though,  from  the  vertical  direction  of  the  fire, 
with  comparatively  little  effect.  The  French  camp  offered  a  surer  mark  to 
the  guns  of  Civitella. 


SIEGE  OF  CIVITELLA.  73 

The  wonien  of  the  place  displayed  an  intrepidity  equal  to  that  of  the  men. 
Armed  with  buckler  and  cuirass,  they  might  be  seen  by  the  side  of  their 
husbands  and  brothers,  in  the  most  exposed  situations  on  the  ramparts  ;  and, 
as  one  was  shot  down,  another  stepped  forward  to  take  the  place  of  her  fallen 
comrade.4  The  fate  of  Oampli  had  taught  them  to  expect  no  mercy  from  the 
victor,  and  they  preferred  death  to  dishonour. 

As  day  after  day  passed  on  in  the  same  monotonous  manner,  Guise's  troops 
became  weary  of  their  inactive  life.  The  mercurial  spirits  of  the  French 
soldier,  which  overleaped  every  obstacle  in  his  path,  were  often  found  to 
evaporate  in  the  tedium  of  protracted  operations,  where  there  was  neither 
incident  nor  excitement.  Such  a  state  of  things  was  better  suited  to  the 
patient  and  persevering  Spaniard.  The  men  began  openly  to  murmur  against 
the  pope,  whom  they  regarded  as  the  cause  of  their  troubles.  They  were  led 
by  priests,  they  said,  "  who  knew  much  more  of  praying  than  of  fighting."  * 

Guise  himself  had  causes  of  disgust  with  the  pontiff  which  he  did  not  care 
to  conceal.  For  all  the  splendid  promises  of  his  holiness,  he  had  received  few 
supplies  either  of  men,  ammunition,  or  money ;  and  of  the  Angevine  lords  not 
one  had  ventured  to  declare  in  his  favour  or  to  take  service  under  his  banner. 
He  urged  all  this  with  much  warmth  on  the  pope's  nephew,  the  duke  of  Monte- 
bello.  The  Italian  recriminated  as  warmly,  till  the  dialogue  was  abruptly 
ended,  it  is  said,  by  the  duke  of  Guise  throwing  a  napkin,  or,  according  to 
some  accounts,  a  dish  at  the  head  of  his  ally.8  However  this  may  be,  Monte- 
bello  left  the  camp  in  disgust  and  returned  to  Rome.  But  the  defender  of  the 
Church  was  too  important  a  person  to  quarrel  with,  and  Paul  deemed  it  pru- 
dent, for  the  present  at  least,  to  stifle  his  resentment. 

Meanwhile  neavy  rains  set  in,  causing  great  annoyance  to  the  French  troops 
in  their  quarters,  spoiling  their  provisions,  and  doing  great  damage  to  their 
powder.  The  same  rain  did  good  service  to  the  besieged,  by  filling  their 
cisterns.  "  God,"  exclaimed  the  profane  Guise,  "  must  have  turned  Spaniard." 7 

While  these  events  were  taking  place  in  the  north  of  Naples,  the  duke  of 
Alva,  in  the  south,  was  making  active  preparations  for  the  defence  of  the 
kingdom.  He  had  seen  with  satisfaction  the  time  consumed  by  his  antagonist, 
first  at  Gesi,  and  afterwards  at  the  siege  of  Civitella  ;  and  he  had  fully  profited 
by  the  delay.  On  reaching  the  city  of  Naples,  he  had  summoned  a  parliament 
of  the  great  barons,  had  clearly  exposed  the  necessities  of  the  state,  and  de- 
manded an  extraordinary  loan  of  two  millions  of  ducats.  The  loyal  nobles 
readily  responded  to  the  call ;  but,  as  not  more  than  one-third  of  the  whole 
amount  could  be  instantly  raised,  an  order  was  obtained  from  the  council, 
requiring  the  governors  of  the  several  provinces  to  invite  the  great  ecclesiastics 
in  their  districts  to  advance  the  remaining  two-thirds  of  the  loan.  In  case 
they  did  not  consent  with  a  good  grace,  they  were  to  be  forced  to  comply  by 
the  seizure  of  their  revenues? 

By  another  decree  of  the  council,  the  gold  and  silver  plate  belonging  to  the 
monasteries  and  churches  throughout  the  kingdom,  after  being  valued,  was  to 
be  taken  for  the  use  of  the  government.  A  quantity  of  it,  belonging  to  a 
<  ity  in  the  Abruzzi,  was  in  fact  put  up  to  be  sent  to  Naples  ;  but  it  caused 
such  a  tumult  among  the  people  that  it  was  found  expedient  to  suspend  pro- 
ceedings in  the  matter  for  the  present. 

•  Andrea,  Gucrrade  Roma.  p.  228,  '  "Enccndldo  dc  colera,  vino  n  dezlr.  Quo 
'  Uiannone,    Istoria   dl    N  spoil,    torn.    x.        Dl<*  se  aula  Inielto  Esp.iflol."  AndrPO,Uuerra 

P-  <«•  de  Kuma,  p.  228. 

*  Stsmondi,    Hlstoire   des    Francaia,  torn.  •  (jianuune,  Istoria  di  Napoll,  torn.  x.  p.  36. 
XN  iii.  p.  39. 


74  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

The  viceroy  still  farther  enlarged  his  resources  by  the  sequestration  of  the 
revenues  belonging  to  such  ecclesiastics  as  resided  in  Rome.  By  these  various 
expedients  the  duke  of  Alva  found  himself  in  possession  of  sufficient  funds  for 
carrying  on  the  war  as  he  desired.  He  mustered  a  force  of  twenty -two,  or, 
as  some  accounts  state,  twenty-five  thousand  men.  Of  these  three  thousand 
only  were  Spanish  veterans,  five  thousand  were  Germans,  and  the  remainder 
Italians,  chieHy  from  the  Abruzzi, — for  the  most  part  raw  recruits,  on  whom 
little  reliance  was  to  be  placed.  He  had  besides  seven  hundred  men-at-arms 
and  fifteen  hundred  light  horse.  His  army  therefore,  though,  as  far  as  the 
Italians  were  concerned,  inferior  in  discipline  to  that  of  his  antagonist,  was 
greatly  superior  in  numbers.9 

In  a  council  of  war  that  was  called,  some  were  of  opinion  that  the  viceroy 
should  act  on  the  defensive,  and  await  the  approach  of  the  enemy  in  tne 
neighbourhood  of  the  capital.  But  Alva  looked  on  this  as  a  timid  course, 
arguing  distrust  in  himself,  and  likely  to  infuse  distrust  into  his  followers.  He 
determined  to  march  at  once  against  the  enemy  and  prevent  his  gaining  a 
permanent  foothold  in  the  kingdom. 

Pescara,  on  the  Adriatic,  was  appointed  as  the  place  of  rendezvous  for  the 
army,  and  Alva  quitted  the  city  of  Naples  for  that  place  on  the  eleventh  of 
April,  1557.  Here  he  concentrated  his  whole  strength,  and  received  his 
artillery  and  military  stores,  which  were  brought  to  him  by  water.  Having 
reviewed  his  troops,  he  began  his  march  to  the  north.  On  reaching  Rio 
Umauo,  he  detached  a  strong  body  of  troops  to  get  possession  of  Giulia  Nuova, 
a  town  of  some  importance  lately  seized  by  the  enemy.  Alva  supposed,  and 
it  seems  correctly,  that  the  French  commander  had  secured  this  as  a  good 
place  of  retreat  in  case  of  his  failure  before  Civitella,  since  its  position  was 
such  as  would  enable  him  readily  to  keep  up  his  communications  with  the  sea. 
The  French  garrison  sallied  out  against  the  Spaniards,  but  were  driven  back 
with  loss  ;  and,  as  Alva's  troops  followed  close  in  their  rear,  the  enemy  fled  in 
confusion  through  the  streets  of  the  city,  and  left  it  in  the  hands  of  the 
victors.  In  this  commodious  position  the  viceroy  for  the  present  took  up  his 
quarters. 

On  the  approach  of  the  Spanish  army  the  duke  of  Guise  saw  the  necessity 
of  bringing  his  operations  against  Civitella  to  a  decisive  issue.  He  accord- 
ingly, as  a  last  effort,  prepared  for  a  general  assault.  But,  although  it  was 
conducted  with  great  spirit,  it  was  repulsed  with  still  greater  by  the  garrison  ; 
and  the  French  commander,  deeply  mortified  at  his  repeated  failures,  saw  the 
necessity  of  abandoning  the  siege.  He  could  not  effect  even  this  without 
sustaining  some  loss  from  the  brave  defenders  of  Civitella,  who  sallied  out  on 
his  rear  as  he  drew  off  his  discomfited  troops  to  the  neighbouring  valley  of 
Nireto.  Thus  ended  the  siege  of  Civitella,  which,  by  the  confidence  it  gave 
to  the  loyal  Neapolitans  throughout  the  country;  as  well  as  by  the  leisure  it 
afforded  to  Alva  for  mustering  his  resources,  may  be  said  to  have  decided  the 
fate  of  the  war.  The  siege  lasted  twenty-two  days,  during  fourteen  of  which 
the  guns  from  the  four  batteries  of  the  French  had  played  incessantly  on  the 
beleaguered  city.  The  viceroy  was  filled  with  admiration  at  the  heroic  con- 
duct of  the  inhabitants,  and,  in  token  of  respect  for  it,  granted  some  important 
immunities  to  be  enjoyed  for  ever  by  the  citizens  of  Civitella.  The  women, 
too,  came  in  for  their  share  of  the  honours,  as  whoever  married  a  maiden  of 
Civitel'a  was  to  be  allowed  the  same  immunities,  from  whatever  part  of  the 
country  he  might  come." 

•  Noree,  Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo        237.— Ossorio,  Albas  Vita,  torn.  li.  p.  64. 
Secondo,  MS. — Andrea,  Guerra  de  Roma,  p.  '"  The  particulars  of  the  siege  of  Civitella 


ROME  MENACED  BY  THE  SPANIARDS.  75 

The  two  armies  were  now  quartered  within  a  few  miles  of  each  other.  Yet 
no  demonstration  was  made,  on  either  side,  of  bringing  matters  to  the  issue  of 
a  battle.  This  was  foreign  to  Alva's  policy,  and  was  not  to  be  expected  from 
Guise,  so  inferior  in  strength  to  his  antagonist.  On  the  viceroy's  quitting 
Giulia  Nuova,  however,  to  occupy  a  position  somewhat  nearer  the  French 
quarters,  Guise  did  not  deem  it  prudent  to  remain  there  any  longer,  but, 
breaking  up  his  camp,  retreated,  with  his  whole  army,  across  the  Tronto,  and, 
without  further  delay,  evacuated  the  kingdom  of  Naples. 

The  Spanish  general  made  no  attempt  to  pursue,  or  even  to  molest  his 
adversary  in  his  retreat.  For  this  he  has  been  severely  criticised,  more  par- 
ticularly as  the  passage  of  a  river  offers  many  points  of  advantage  to  an 
assailant.  But,  in  truth,  Alva  never  resorted  to  fighting  when  he  could  gain 
his  end  without  it.  In  an  appeal  to  arms,  however  favourable  may  be  the 
odds,  there  must  always  be  some  doubt  as  to  the  result  But  the  odds  here 
were  not  so  decisively  on  the  side  of  the  Spaniards  as  they  appeared.  The 
duke  of  Guise  carried  off  his  battalions  in  admirable  order,  protecting  his  rear 
with  the  flower  of  his  infantry  and  with  his  cavalry,  in  which  last  he  was 
much  superior  to  his  enemy.  Thus  the  parts  of  the  hostile  armies  likely  to 
have  been  brought  into  immediate  conflict  would  have  afforded  no  certain 
assurance  of  success  to  the  Spaniards.  Alva's  object  had  been  not  so  much 
to  defeat  the  French  as  to  defend  Naples.  This  he  had  now  achieved,  with 
but  little  loss  ;  and,  rather  than  incur  the  risk  of  greater,  he  was  willing,  in 
the  words  of  an  old  proverb,  to  make  a  bridge  of  silver  for  the  flying  foe.11 
In  the  words  of  Alva  himself,  "he  had  no  idea  of  staking  the  kingdom  of 
Naples  against  the  embroidered  coat  of  the  duke  of  Guise."  ™ 

On  the  retreat  of  the  French,  Alva  laid  siege  at  once  to  two  or  three  places, 
of  no  great  note,  in  the  capture  of  which  he  and  his  lieutenants  were  guilty  of 
the  most  deliberate  cruelty  ;  though  in  the  judgment  of  the  chronicler,  it  was 
not  cruelty,  but  a  wholesome  severity,  designed  as  a  warning  to  such  petty 
places  not  to  defy  the  royal  authority.'*  Soon  after  this,  Alva  nimself  crossed 
the  Tronto,  and  took  up  a  position  not  far  removed  from  the  French,  who  lay 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  AscolL  Although  the  two  armies  were  but  a  few 
miles  asunder,  there  was  no  attempt  at  hostilities,  with  the  exception  of  a 
skirmish  in  which  but  a  small  number  on  either  side  were  engaged,  and  which 
terminated  in  favour  of  the  Spaniards.  This  state  of  things  was  at  length 
ended  by  a  summons  from  the  pope  to  the  French  commander  to  draw  nearer 
to  Rome,  as  he  needed  his  presence  for  the  protection  of  the  capital.  The 
duke,  glad,  no  doubt,  of  so  honourable  an  apology  for  his  retreat,  and  satisfied 
with  having  so  long  held  his  ground  against  a  force  superior  to  his  own,  fell 
back,  in  good  order,  upon  Tivoli,  which,  as  it  commanded  the  great  avenues 
to  Rome  on  the  east  and  afforded  good  accommodations  for  his  troops,  he  made 
his  head-quarters  for  the  present  The  manner  in  which  the  duke  of  Alva 
adhered  to  the  plan  of  defensive  operations  settled  at  the  beginning  of  the 
campaign,  and  that,  too,  under  circumstances  wlu'ch  would  have  tempted  most 

may    be  found  In  Nores,  Guerra  fra  Paolo       2RS. 

e    Filippo   Secondo,    MS.,—  Andrea,  "  "  No  pensava  Jugar  el  Reyno  de  Napoles 


(iu'-rra  de   Koma,   p.   2*2,  et  wq,.  —  Osaorio,  contra  una  casaca  de  taocado  del  Duque  de 

Albas   Vita,   torn.    II.   pp.   53-59,  —  Cabrera,  Oulsa."    Vera  y   Kigueroa,   Resultas   dc   la 

Fflipe  Segundo.  lib.   111.  cap.   9,—  De  Thou,  Vida  del  Duque  de  Alva,  p.  W. 

HlntoLre  universelle,  torn.  ill.  p.  87,  et  seq.,  —  "  -yuiso  uMr  alll  desta  oeveridai),  no  por 

etc.  crueza,  sino  para  dar  exemplo  a  Ion  otnxi,  <|iie 

"  "Qutso  gtiardar  el  prccepto  de  guerre  none  atreniene  un  lugarejo  a  defenders  de 

que  e»  :  Hazer  la  pucnte  d<-  pUta  al  enemlgo,  un  exercito  real."    Andrea,  Guerra  de  Itoniti, 

que  DC  va."     Andrea,  Guerre  de   Roma,  p.  p.  292. 


76  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

men  to  depart  from  such  a  plan,  is  a  remarkable  proof  of  his  perseverance  and 
inflexible  spirit.  It  proves,  moreover,  the  empire  which  he  held  over  the 
minds  of  his  followers,  that,  under  such  circumstances,  he  could  maintain 
implicit  obedience  to  his  orders. 

The  cause  of  the  pope's  alarm  was  the  rapid  successes  of  Alva's  confederate, 
Mark  Antony  Colonna,  who  had  defeated  the  papal  levies,  and  taken  one 
place  after  another  in  the  Campagna,  till  the  Romans  began  to  tremble  for 
their  capital.  Colonna  was  now  occupied  with  the  siege  of  Segni,  a  place  of 
considerable  importance ;  and  the  duke  of  Alva,  relieved  of  the  presence  of  the 
French,  resolved  to  march  to  his  support.  He  accordingly  recrossed  the 
Tronto,  and,  passing  through  the  Neapolitan  territory,  halted  for  some  days  at 
Sora.  He  then  traversed  the  frontier,  but  had  not  penetrated  far  into  the 
Campagna  when  he  received  tidings  of  the  fall  of  Segni.  That  strong  place, 
after  a  gallant  defence,  had  been  taken  by  storm.  All  the  usual  atrocities 
were  perpetrated  by  the  brutal  soldiery.  Even  the  sanctity  of  the  convents 
did  not  save  them  from  pollution.  It  was  in  vain  that  Colonna  interfered 
to  prevent  these  excesses.  The  voice  of  authority  was  little  heeded  in  the 
tempest  of  passion.  It  mattered  little,  in  that  age,  into  whose  hands  a 
captured  city  fell ;  Germans,  French,  Italians,  it  was  all  the  same.  The 
wretched  town,  so  lately  flourishing,  it  might  be,  in  all  the  pride  of  luxury  and 
wealth,  was  claimed  as  the  fair  spoil  of  the  victors.  It  was  their  prize-money, 
which  served  in  default  of  payment  of  their  long  arrears, — usually  long  in 
those  days  ;  and  it  was  a  mode  of  payment  as  convenient  for  the  general  as 
for  his  soldiers.14 

The  fall  of  Segni  caused  the  greatest  consternation  in  the  capital.  The 
next  thing,  it  was  said,  would  be  to  assault  the  capital  itself.  Paul  the  Fourth, 
incapable  of  fear,  was  filled  with  impotent  fury.  "  They  have  taken  Segni," 
he  said,  in  a  conclave  of  the  cardinals ;  "  they  have  murdered  the  people, 
destroyed  their  property,  fired  their  dwellings.  Worse  than  this,  they  will 
next  pillage  Palhano.  Even  this  will  not  fill  up  the  measure  of  their  cruelty. 
They  will  sack  the  city  of  Rome  itself  ;  nor  will  they  respect  even  my  person. 
But,  for  myself,  I  long  to  be  with  Christ,  and  await  without  fear  the  crown  of 
martyrdom."15  Paul  the  Fourth,  after  having  brought  this  tempest  upon 
Italy,  began  to  consider  himself  a  martyr ! 

Vet  even  in  this  extremity,  though  urged  on  all  sides  to  make  concessions, 
he  would  abate  nothing  of  his  haughty  tone.  He  insisted,  as  a  sine  qua  iion, 
that  Alva  should  forthwith  leave  the  Roman  territory  and  restore  his  con- 
quests. When  these  conditions  were  reported  to  the  duke,  he  coolly  remarked 
that  his  holiness  seemed  to  be  under  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  his  own 
army  was  before  Naples,  instead  of  the  Spanish  army  being  at  the  gates  of 
Rome." Is 

After  the  surrender  of  Segni,  Alva  effected  a  junction  with  the  Italian  forces, 
and  marched  to  the  town  of  Colona,  in  the  Campagna,  where  for  the  present 
he  quartered  his  army.  Here  he  formed  the  plan  of  an  enterprise  the  ad- 
venturous character  of  which  it  seems  difficult  to  reconcile  with  his  habitual 
caution.  This  was  a  night-assault  on  Rome.  He  did  not  communicate  his 
whole  purpose  to  his  officers,  but  simply  ordered  them  to  prepare  to  march  on 

'*  Andrea,  Guerra  de  Roma,  p.  302. — Osso-  miedo  la  corona    del    martirio."       Andrea, 

rio,  Albae  Vita,  torn.  ii.  p  96. — Nores,  Guerra  Guerra  de  Roma,  p.  303. —"Si  mostro  pron- 

fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo  Secondo,  M.S.  tissimo  e  disposto  di  sostenere  il  martirio." 

11  "  Los  enemigos  bun  tornado  a  Sefia  con  Nores.   Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto   e   Filippo 

saco,  niuerte,  y  fuego.  .  .  .  Entraran  en  Koma,  Secondo,  MS. 

y  la  saqueran,  y  prenderan  a  mi  persona ;  y  "  Andrea,  Guerra  de  Roma,  p.  306. 
yo,  que  desseo  ser  co  Cbristo,  aguardo  sin 


ROME  MENACED  BY  THE  SPANIARDS.  77 

the  following  night,  the  twenty-sixth  of  August,  against  a  neighbouring  city, 
the  name  of  which  he  did  not  disclose.  It  was  a  wealthy  place,  he  said,  but 
he  was  most  anxious  that  no  violence  should  be  offered  to  the  inhabitants,  in 
either  their  persons  or  property.  The  soldiers  should  be  forbidden  even  to 
enter  the  dwellings  ;  but  he  promised  that  the  loss  of  booty  should  be  com- 
pensated by  increase  of  pay.  The  men  were  to  go  lightly  armed,  without 
baggage,  and  with  their  shirts  over  their  mail,  affording  the  best  means  of 
recognizing  one  another  in  the  dark. 

The  night  was  obscure,  but  unfortunately  a  driving  storm  of  rain  set  in, 
which  did  such  damage  to  the  roads  as  greatly  to  impede  the  march,  and  the 
dawn  was  nigh  at  hand  when  the  troops  reached  the  place  of  destination.  To 
their  great  surprise,  they  then  understood  that  the  object  of  attack  was  Rome 
itself. 

Alva  halted  at  a  short  distance  from  the  city,  in  a  meadow,  and  sent  forward 
a  small  party  to  reconnoitre  the  capital,  which  seemed  to  slumber  in  quiet. 
But  on  a  nearer  approach  the  Spaniards  saw  a  great  light,  as  if  occasioned  by 
a  multitude  of  torches,  that  seemed  glancing  to  and  fro  within  the  walls,  in- 
ferring some  great  stir  among  the  inhabitants  of  that  quarter.  Soon  after 
this,  a  few  horsemen  were  seen  to  issue  from  one  of  the  gates  and  ride  off  in 
the  direction  of  the  French  camp  at  TiyolL  The  duke,  on  receiving  the 
report,  was  satisfied  that  the  Romans  had,  in  some  way  or  other,  got  notice  of 
his  design  ;  that  the  horsemen  had  gone  to  give  the  alarm  to  the  French  in 
Tiyoli ;  and  that  he  should  soon  find  himself  between  two  enemies.  Not 
relishing  this  critical  position,  he  at  once  abandoned  his  design,  and  made 
a  rapid  countermarch  on  the  place  he  had  left  the  preceding  evening. 

In  his  conjectures  the  duke  was  partly  in  the  right  and  partly  in  the  wrong. 
The  lights  which  were  seen  glancing  within  the  town  were  owing  to  the  watch- 
fulness of  Caraffa,  who,  from  some  apprehensions  of  an  attack,  in  consequence 
of  information  he  had  received  of  preparations  in  the  Spanish  camp,  was 
patrolling  this  quarter  before  daybreak  to  see  that  all  was  safe ;  but  the 
horsemen  who  left  the  gates  at  that  early  hour  in  the  direction  of  the  French 
camp  were  far  from  thinking  that  hostile  battalions  lay  within  gunshot  of 
their  walls." 

Such  is  the  account  we  have  of  this  strange  affair.  Some  historians  assert 
that  it  was  not  the  duke's  design  to  attack  Rome,  but  only  to  make  a  feint, 
and,  by  the  panic  which  he  would  create,  to  afford  the  pope  a  good  pretext  for 
terminating  the  war.  In  support  of  this,  it  is  said  that  he  told  his  son  Ferdi- 
nand, just  before  his  departure,  that  he  feared  it  would  be  impossible  to 
prevent  the  troops  from  sacking  the  city  if  they  once  set  foot  in  it."  Other 
accounts  state  tliat  it  was  no  feint,  but  a  surprise  meditated  in  good  earnest, 
and  defeated  only  by  the  apparition  of  the  lights  and  the  seeming  state  of 
preparation  in  which  the  place  was  found  Indeed,  one  writer  asserts  that  he 
saw  the  scaling  ladders,  brought  by  a  corps  of  two  hundred  arquebusiers,  who 
were  appointed  to  the  service  of  mounting  the  walls.19 

The  Venetian  minister,  Navagero,  assures  us  that  Alva's  avowed  purpose 
was  to  secure  the  person  of  his  holiness,  which  he  thought  must  bring  the  war 
at  once  to  a  close.  The  duke's  uncle,  the  cardinal  of  Sangiacomo,  had  warned 
his  nephew,  according  to  the  same  authority,  not  to  incur  the  fate  of  their 
countrymen  who  had  served  under  the  Constable  de  Bourbon  at  the  sack  of 

"  Mores,  Guerra  fra  Paol«>  Qunrto  e  Klllppo  "  "  Dixo  a  Don  Fernando  de  Toledo  ?u  hijo 

Secondo,  MS.— Andrea,  Ciuerra  dc  Koma,  pp.  estan  pal  .lirn.i :  Terno  one  lienios  ife  fta<|in-ar 

3o«-:iU.— Kelazione  dl  Bernardo  Navagero.—  a  Koma,  y  no  querria.       Andrea,  Gucrra  d« 

Oworio,  Alb*  Vita,  torn.  II.  p  117,  et  «eq.—  Koma.  p.  312. 

Cabrera,  Flllpe  Segund...  lib  Iv.  cap.  11.  ••  Ibid.,  ubl  nupr*. 


78  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

Rome,  all  of  whom,  sooner  or  later,  had  come  to  a  miserable  end.20  This 
warning  may  have  made  some  impression  on  the  mind  of  Alva,  who,  however 
inflexible  by  nature,  had  conscientious  scruples  of  his  own,  and  was,  no  doubt, 
accessible  as  others  of  his  time  to  arguments  founded  on  superstition. 

We  cannot  but  admit  that  the  whole  affair — the  preparations  for  the  assault, 
the  counsel  to  the  officers,  and  the  sudden  retreat  on  suspicion  of  a  discovery 
—all  look  very  much  like  earnest.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  duke,  as  the 
Venetian  asserts,  may  have  intended  nothing  beyond  the  seizure  of  the  pope. 
But  that  the  matter  would  have  stopped  there,  no  one  will  believe.  Once 
fairly  within  the  walls,  even  the  authority  of  Alva  would  have  been  impotent 
to  restrain  the  license  of  the  soldiery ;  and  the  same  scenes  might  have  been 
acted  over  again  as  at  the  taking  of  Rome  under  the  Constable  de  Bourbon, 
or  on  the  capture  of  the  ancient  capital  by  the  Goths. 

When  the  Romans,  on  the  following  morning,  learned  the  peril  they  had 
been  in  during  the  night,  and  that  the  enemy  had  been  prowling  round,  like 
wolves  about  a  sheepfold,  ready  to  rush  in  upon  their  sleeping  victims,  the 
whole  city  was  seized  with  a  panic.  All  the  horrors  of  the  sack  by  the  Con- 
stable de  Bourbon  rose  up  to  their  imaginations, — or  rather  memories,  for 
many  there  were  who  were  old  enough  to  remember  that  terrible  day.  They 
loudly  clamoured  for  peace  before  it  was  too  late ;  and  they  pressed  the 
demand  in  a  manner  which  showed  that  the  mood  of  the  people  was  a 
dangerous  one.  Strozzi,  the  most  distinguished  of  the  Italian  captains, 
plainly  told  the  pope  that  he  had  no  choice  but  to  come  to  terms  with  the 
enemy  at  once.21 

Paul  was  made  more  sensible  of  this  by  finding  now,  in  his  greatest  need, 
the  very  arm  withdrawn  from  him  on  which  he  most  leaned  for  support. 
Tidings  had  reached  the  French  camp  of  the  decisive  victory  gained  by  the 
Spaniards  at  St.  Quentin,  and  they  were  followed  by  a  summons  from  the 
king  to  the  duke  of  Guise  to  return  with  his  army,  as  speedily  as  possible,  for 
the  protection  of  Paris.  The  duke,  who  was  probably  not  unwilling  to  close 
a  campaign  which  had  been  so  barren  of  laurels  to  the  French,  declared  that 
"  no  chains  were  strong  enough  to  keep  him  in  Italy."  He  at  once  repaired 
to  the  Vatican,  and  there  laid  before  his  holiness  the  commands  of  his  master. 
The  case  was  so  pressing  that  Paul  could  not  in  reason  oppose  the  duke's 
departure.  But  he  seldom  took  counsel  of  reason,  and  in  a  burst  of  passion 
he  exclaimed  to  Guise,  "Go,  then;  and  take  with  you  the  consciousness  of 
having  done  little  for  your  king,  still  less  for  the  Church,  and  nothing  for  your 
own  honour."22 

Negotiations  were  now  opened  for  an  accommodation  between  the  bellige- 
rents, at  the  town  of  Cavi.  Cardinal  Carafta  appeared  in  behalf  of  his  uncle, 
the  pope,  and  the  duke  of  Alva  for  the  Spaniards.  Through  the  mediation  of 
Venice,  the  terms  of  the  treaty  were  finally  settled,  on  the  fourteenth  of 
September,  although  the  inflexible  pontiff  still  insisted  on  concessions  nearly 
as  extravagant  as  those  he  had  demanded  before.  It  was  stipulated  in  a 
preliminary  article  that  the  duke  of  Alva  should  publicly  ask  pardon,  and 
receive  absolution,  for  haying  borne  arms  against  the  holy  see.  "Sooner  than 
surrender  this  point,"  said  Paul,  "  I  would  see  the  whole  world  perish ;  and 
this,  not  so  much  for  my  own  sake  as  for  the  honour  of  Jesus  Christ."2* 

™  "  II  Cardinal  Sangiacomo,  sno  zio,  dopo  rono  all'  ultimo  sacco,  sono  capital!  male." 

la  tregu*  di  quaranta  gionii,  fu  a  verterloe  gli  Relazione  di  Bernardo  Navagero. 

disse  :  Figliuol  mio,  avete  fatto  bone  a  non  "'  Relazione  di  Bernardo  Navagero. 

entrare  in  Roma,  come  BO  che  avi'te  potuto ;  e  22  Sismondi,  Histoire  des    Francais,  torn, 

vi   esorto  che  non   lo  facciate  mai ;  perche,  xviii.  p.  41. 

tutti  quelli  delta  nostra  nazione  che  si  trova-  ••  Giannone,  Istoria  di  Napoli,  torn,  x.  p.  43. 


PAUL  CONSENTS  TO  PEACE.  79 

It  was  provided  by  the  treaty  that  the  Spanish  troops  should  be  imme- 
diately withdrawn  from  the  territory  of  the  Church,  that  all  the  places  taken 
from  the  Church  should  be  at  once  restored,  and  that  the  French  army  should 
be  allowed  a  free  passage  to  their  own  country.  Philip  did  not  take  so  good 
care  of  his  allies  as  Paul  did  of  his.  Colonna,  who  had  done  the  cause  such 
good  service,  was  not  even  reinstated  in  the  possessions  of  which  the  pope 
had  deprived  him.  But  a  secret  article  provided  that  his  claims  should  be 
determined  hereafter  by  the  joint  arbitration  of  the  pontiff  and  the  king  of 
Spain.21 

The  treaty  was,  in  truth,  one  which,  as  Alva  bitterly  remarked,  "  seemed  to 
have  been  dictated  by  the  vanquished  rather  than  by  the  victor."  It  came 
hard  to  the  duke  to  execute  it,  especially  the  clause  relating  to  himself. 
"  Were  I  the  king,"  said  he,  haughtily,  "  his  holiness  should  send  one  of  his 
nephews  to  Bmssels,  to  sue  for  my  pardon,  instead  of  my  general's  suing  for 
his." 21  But  Alva  had  no  power  to  consult  his  own  will  in  the  matter.  The 
orders  from  Philip  were  peremptory,  to  come  to  some  terms,  if  possible,  with 
the  pope.  Philip  nad  long  since  made  up  his  own  mind  that  neither  profit  nor 
honour  was  to  be  derived  from  a  war  with  the  Church,— a  war  not  only  repug- 
nant to  his  own  feelings,  but  which  placed  him  in  a  false  position  and  one  most 
prejudicial  to  his  political  interests. 

The  news  of  peace  filled  the  Romans  with  a  joy  great  in  proportion  to  their 
former  consternation.  Nor  was  this  joy  much  diminished  by  a  calamity  which 
at  any  other  time  would  have  thrown  the  city  into  mourning.  The  Tiber, 
swollen  by  the  autumnal  rains,  rose  above  its  banks,  sweeping  away  houses 
and  trees  in  its  fury,  drowning  men  and  cattle,  and  breaking  down  a  largo 
piece  of  the  wall  that  surrounded  the  city.  It  was  well  that  this  accident  had 
not  occurred  a  few  days  earlier,  when  the  enemy  was  at  the  gates.28 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  September,  1557,  the  duke  of  Alva  made  his 
public  entrance  into  Rome.  He  was  escorted  by  the  papal  guard,  dressed  in 
its  gay  uniform.  It  was  joined  by  the  other  troops  in  the  city,  who  on  this 
holiday  service  did  as  well  as  better  soldiers.  On  entering  the  gates,  the  con- 
course was  swelled  by  thousands  of  citizens,  who  made  the  air  ring  with  their 
acclamations,  as  they  saluted  the  Spanish  general  with  the  titles  of  Defender 
and  Lil>erator  of  the  capital  The  epithets  might  be  thought  an  indiHerent 
compliment  to  their  own  government.  In  this  state  the  procession  moved 
along,  like  the  triumph  of  a  conqueror  returned  from  his  victorious  campaigns 
to  receive  the  wreath  of  laurel  in  the  capitol. 

On  reaching  the  Vatican,  the  Spanish  commander  fell  on  his  knees  before 
the  pope  and  asked  his  pardon  for  the  offence  of  bearing  arms  against  the 
Church.  Paul,  soothed  by  this  show  of  concession,  readily  granted  absolution. 
He  paid  the  duke  the  distinguished  honour  of  giving  him  a  seat  at  his  own 
table;  while  he  complimented  the  duchess  by  sending  her  the  consecrated 
golden  rose,  reserved  only  for  royal  persons  and  illustrious  champions  of  the 
Church.17 

Yet  the  haughty  spirit  of  Alva  saw  in  all  this  more  of  humiliation  than  of 

*•  Norea.  Gnerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Fllippo  su*  Marxta  ch«  io  vengo  hora  d!  fare  a  mi* 

Secondo,  MS.— Andrea,  Uuerra  de  Roma,  p.  Santlta."    Letl,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  tom.  i. 

314.— De  Thou,  HiBtoire  tmivrrwllr,  torn.  III.  p.  293. 

p.  128.—  Giannone,  Istoria  di  Napoli.  turn.  z.  •'"  Helazione  d!  Bernardo  Navagero. 

p.  46.— Omorfo.  Alba;  Vita,  torn.  II.  p.  131.  n  GUnnonr,  letorla  di  Napoli.  torn.  x.  p. 

"  "  Hoggi  II  mlo  He   ba  fatto   una  gran  46.— Norec,  Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo 

Hcloccbezza,  e  Be  Io  foosi  stato  In  suo  luogo,  ct  Secondo,  MS.— Leti,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn. 

egli  nel  mlo,  II  Cardinal  Carafa  sarebbe  andato  1.  p.  283.— Amlrra,  Uuerra  de  lioma,  p.  316. 
in  Flandra  a  far  quelle  steam-  Bommituiioni  A 


80  WAR  WITH  THE  POPE. 

triumph.  His  conscience,  like  that  of  his  master,  was  greatly  relieved  by 
being  discharged  from  the  responsibilities  of  such  a  war.  JBut  he  had  also  a 
military  conscience,  which  seemed  to  be  quite  as  much  scandalized  by  the 
conditions  of  peace.  He  longed  to  be  once  more  at  Naples,  where  the  state  of 
things  imperatively  required  his  presence.  When  he  returned  there,  he  found 
abundant  occupation  in  reforming  the  abuses  which  had  grown  out  of  the  late 
confusion,  and  especially  in  restoring,  as  far  as  possible,  the  shattered  condi- 
tion of  the  finances,— a  task  hardly  less  difficult  than  that  of  driving  out  the 
French  from  Naples.28 

Thus  ended  the  war  with  Paul  the  Fourth, — a  war  into  which  that  pontiff 
had  plunged  without  preparation,  which  he  had  conducted  without  judgment 
and  terminated  without  honour.  Indeed,  it  brought  little  honour  to  any  of 
the  parties  concerned  in  it,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  a  full  measure  of  those 
calamities  which  always  follow  in  the  train  of  war. 

The  French  met  with  the  same  fate  which  uniformly  befell  them  when,  lured 
by  the  phantom  of  military  glory,  they  crossed  the  Alps  to  lay  waste  the 
garden  of  Italy, — in  the  words  of  their  own  proverb,  "the  grave  of  the 
French."  The  duke  of  Guise,  after  a  vexatious  campaign,  in  which  it  was  his 
greatest  glory  that  he  had  sustained  no  actual  defeat,  thought  himself  fortu- 
nate in  being  allowed  a  free  passage,  with  the  shattered  remnant  of  his  troops, 
back  to  his  own  country.  Naples,  besides  the  injuries  she  had  sustained  on 
her  borders,  was  burdened  with  a  debt  which  continued  to  press  heavily  for 
generations  to  come.  Nor  were  her  troubles  ended  by  the  peace.  In  the 
spring  of  the  following  year,  1558,  a  Turkish  squadron  appeared  off  Calabria; 
and,  running  down  the  coast,  the  Moslems  made  a  landing  on  several  points, 
sacked  some  of  the  principal  towns,  butchered  the  inhabitants,  or  swept  them 
oft  into  hopeless  slavery.29  Such  were  some  of  the  blessed  fruits  of  the  alli- 
ance between  the  grand  seignior  and  the  head  of  the  Catholic  Church.  Soly- 
man  had  come  into  the  league  at  the  invitation  of  the  Christian  princes. 
But  it  was  not  found  so  easy  to  lay  the  spirit  of  mischief  as  it  had  been 
to  raise  it. 

The  weight  of  the  war,  however,  fell,  as  was  just,  most  heavily  on  the 
author  of  it.  Paul,  from  his  palace  of  the  Vatican,  could  trace  the  march  of 
the  enemy  by  the  smoking  nuns  of  the  Campagna.  He  saw  his  towns  sacked, 
his  troops  scattered,  his  very  capital  menaced,  his  subjects  driven  by  ruinous 
taxes  to  the  verge  of  rebellion.  Even  peace,  when  it  did  come,  secured  to  him 
none  of  the  objects  for  which  he  had  contended  ;  while  he  had  the  humiliating 
consciousness  that  he  owed  this  peace,  not  to  his  own  arms,  but  to  the  for- 
bearance— or  the  superstition — of  his  enemies.  One  lesson  he  might  have 
learned,— that  the  thunders  of  the  Vatican  could  no  longer  strike  terror  into 
the  hearts  of  princes,  as  in  the  days  of  the  Crusades. 

In  this  war  Paul  had  called  in  the  French  to  aid  him  in  driving  out  the 
Spaniards.  The  French,  he  said,  might  easily  be  dislodged  hereafter;  "but 
the  Spaniards  were  like  dog-grass,  which  is  sure  to  strike  root  wherever  it 
is  cast."  This  was  the  last  great  effort  that  was  made  to  overturn  the 
Spanish  power  in  Naples  ;  and  the  sceptre  of  that  kingdom  continued  to  be 

"  Charles  the  Fifth,  who  received  tidings  already  knew  enough;  and  for  a  long  time 

of  the  peace  at  Yuste,  was  as  much  disgusted  after  "he  was  heard  to  mutter  between  his 

with  the  terms  of  it  as  the  duke  himself.     He  teeth,"  in  a  tone  which  plainly  showed  the 

even  vented  his  indignation  against  the  duke,  nature  of  his  thoughts.     Ketiro  y  Estancia, 

as  if  lie  had  been  the  author  of  the  peace.  ap.  Mignet,  Charles-Quint,  p.  307. 

He  would  not  consent  to  read  the  despatches  "•  Giaunun?,  Istoria  di  Napoli,  torn.  x.  p. 

which   Aha    sent  to    him,   saying    that  he  46. 


PAUL'S  SUBSEQUENT  CAREER.  81 

-transmitted  in  the  dynasty  of  Castile  with  as  little  opposition  as  that  of  any 
other  portion  of  its  broad  empire. 

Being  thus  relieved  of  his  military  labours,  Paul  set  about  those  great 
reforms,  the  expectation  of  which  had  been  the  chief  inducement  to  his  ejec- 
tion. But  first  he  gave  a  singular  proof  of  self-command,  in  the  reforms  which 
he  introduced  into  his  own  family.  Previously  to  his  election,  no  one,  as  we 
have  seen,  had  declaimed  more  loudly  than  Paul  against  nepotism, — the 
besetting  sin  of  his  predecessors,  who,  most  of  them  old  men  and  without 
children,  naturally  sought  a  substitute  for  these  in  their  nephews  and  those 
nearest  of  kin.  Paul's  partiality  for  his  nephews  was  made  the  more  con- 
spicuous by  the  profligacy  of  their  characters.  Yet  the  real  bond  which  held 
the  parties  together  was  hatred  of  the  Spaniards.  When  peace  came,  and 
this  bond  of  union  was  dissolved,  Paul  readily  opened  his  ears  to  the  accusa- 
tions against  his  kinsmen.  Convinced  at  length  of  their  umvorthiness  and  of 
the  flagrant  manner  in  which  they  had  abused  his  confidence,  he  deprived 
.the  CaraHas  of  all  their  offices,  and  banished  them  to  the  farthest  part  of  his 
dominions.  By  the  sterner  sentence  of  his  successor,  two  of  the  brothers,  the 
duke  and  the  cardinal,  perished  by  the  hand  of  the  public  executioner.30 

After  giving  this  proof  of  mastery  over  his  own  feelings,  Paul  addressed 
himself  to  those  reforms  which  had  engaged  his  attention  in  early  life.  He 
tried  to  enforce  a  stricter  discipline  and  greater  regard  for  morals,  both  in  the 
religious  orders  and  the  secular  clergy.  Above  all,  he  directed  his  efforts 
against  the  Protestant  heresy,  which  had  begun  to  show  itself  in  the  head  of 
Christendom,  as  it  had  long  since  done  in  the  extremities.  The  course  he 
adopted  was  perfectly  characteristic.  Scorning  the  milder  methods  of  argu- 
ment and  persuasion,  he  resorted  wholly  to  persecution.  The  Inquisition, 
he  declared,  was  the  true  battery  with'  which  to  assail  the  defences  of  the 
heretic.  He  suited  the  action  so  well  to  the  word  that  in  a  short  time  the 
prisons  of  the  Holy  Office  were  filled  with  the  accused.  In  the  general  dis- 
trust no  one  felt  himself  safe,  and  a  panic  was  created  scarcely  less  than  that 
felt  by  the  inhabitants  when  the  Spaniards  were  at  their  gates. 

Happily,  their  fears  were  dispelled  by  the  death  of  Paul,  which  took  place 
suddenly,  from  a  fever,  on  the  eighteenth  of  August,  1559,  in  the  eighty-third 
year  of  his  age,  and  fifth  of  his  pontificate.  Before  the  breath  was  out  of  his 
body,  the  populace  rose  en  masse,  broke  open  the  prisons  of  the  Inquisition, 
and  liberated  all  who  were  confined  thera  They  next  attacked  the  nouse  of 
the  grand  inquisitor,  which  they  burned  to  the  ground  ;  and  that  functionary 
narrowly  escaped  with  his  life.  They  tore  down  the  scutcheons,  tearing  the 
arms  of  the  family  of  Caraffa,  which  were  affixed  to  the  public  edifices.  They 
wasted  their  rage  on  the  senseless  statue  of  the  pope,  which  they  overturned, 
and,  breaking  otf  the  head,  rolled  it,  amidst  the  groans  and  execrations  of  the 
by- slanders,  into  the  Tiber.  Such  was  the  fate  of  the  reformer,  who,  in  his 
reforms,  showed  no  touch  of  humanity,  no  sympathy  with  the  sufferings  of 
his  species." 

Yet  with  all  its  defects,  there  is  something  in  the  character  of  Paul  the 
Fourth  that  may  challenge  our  admiration.  His  project — renewing  that  of 
Julius  the  Second — of  driving  out  the  barbarians  from  Italy  was  nobly  con- 
ceived, though  impracticable.  "Whatever  others  may  feel,  I  at  least  will 
have  some  care  for  my  country,"  he  once  said  to  the  Venetian  ambassador. 
"  If  in y  voice  is  unheeded,  it  will  at  least  be  a  consolation  to  me  to  reflect  that 

*•  Glannone,  Istoria  «ll  Napoli,  torn.  x.  p.  "  Nores,  Ouerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Kilippo 

60.— Nures,  Guerra  fra  Paolo  Quarto  e  Filippo       Secondo,   MS. — (Jiannoue.  latoria  di  Napoli, 
Secqndu,  MS.  torn.  x.  p.  60. 

O 


82  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

it  has  been  raised  in  such  a  cause,  and  that  it  will  one  day  be  said  that  an  old 
Italian,  on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  who  might  be  thought  to  have  nothing 
better  to  do  than  to  give  himself  up  to  repose  and  weep  over  his  sins,  had  his 
soul  filled  with  this  lofty  design."  M 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

England  joins  in  the  War— Philip's  Preparations— Siege  of  St.  Quentin— French  Army  routed 
— Storming  of  St.  Queutin — Successes  of  the  Spaniards. 

1557. 

WHILE  the  events  related  in  the  preceding  chapter  were  passing  in  Italy,  the 
war  was  waged  on  a  larger  scale,  and  with  more  important  results,  in  the 
northern  provinces  of  France.  As  soon  as  Henry  had  broken  the  treaty  and 
sent  his  army  across  the  Alps,  Philip  lost  no  time  in  assembling  his  troops, 
although  in  so  quiet  a  manner  as  to  attract  as  little  attention  as  possible. 
His  preparations  were  such  as  enabled  him  not  merely  to  defend  the  frontier 
of  the  ft  etherlands,  but  to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's  country. 

He  despatched  his  confidential  minister,  Ruy  Gomez,  to  Spain,  for  supplies 
both  of  men  and  money ;  instructing  him  to  visit  his  father,  Charles  the  Fifth, 
and,  after  acquainting  him  with  the  state  of  affairs,  to  solicit  his  aid  in  raising 
the  necessary  funds.' 

Philip  had  it  much  at  heart  to  bring  England  into  the  war.  During  his  stay 
in  the  Low  Countries  he  was  in  constant  communication  with  the  English 
cabinet,  and  took  a  lively  interest  in  the  government  of  the  kingdom.  The 
minutes  of  the  privy  council  were  regularly  sent  to  him,  and  as  regularly 
returned  with  his  remarks,  in  his  own  handwriting,  on  the  margin.  In  this 
way  he  discussed  and  freely  criticised  every  measure  of  importance  ;  and  on 
one  occasion  we  find  him  requiring  that  nothing  of  moment  should  be  brought 
before  parliament  until  it  had  first  been  submitted  to  him.* 

In  March,  1557,  Philip  paid  a  second  visit  to  England,  where  he  was 
received  by  his  fond  queen  in  the  most  tender  and  affectionate  manner.  In 
her  letters  she  had  constantly  importuned  him  to  return  to  her.  On  that 
barren  eminence  which  placed  her  above  the  reach  of  friendship,  Mary  was 
dependent  on  her  husband  for  sympathy  and  support.  But  if  the  channel  of 
her  affections  was  narrow,  it  was  deep. 

Philip  found  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  the  queen's  consent  to  his  wishes 
with  respect  to  the  war  with  France.  She  was  induced  to  this  not  merely 
by  her  habitual  deference  to  her  husband,  but  by  natural  feelings  of  resent- 
ment at  the  policy  of  Henry  the  Second.  She  had  put  up  with  affronts, 

"  "Delia  quale  se  altri  non  voleva  aver  Gomez  de  Silva  &  11  de  Marco,  1557,  MS. — 

cura,  voleva  almeno  averla  es>o ;  e  sebbene  i  Papiers  d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  v.  pp.  61, 

suoi  consign  non  fossero  uditi,  avrebbe  ultneno  63. 

la  consolazione  di  avere  avuto  quest'  animo,  *  Tytler,  in  his  England  under  Edward  VI. 

f  che  B!  diceese  un  fdorno :   che  un  vecchio  and  Mary  (vol.  ii.  p.  483),  has  printed  ex- 

italiano  che,  essendo  vicino  alia  morte,  doveva  tracts  from  the  minutes  of  the  council,  with 

attein'.ere  ariposare  e  apiangere  i  suoi  peccati,  the  commentaries  of  Philip  by  the  side  of 

avesse  avnto  tanto  alti  disignl."    Relazione  them.    The  commentaries,  which  are  all  in 

di  Bernardo  Navagero  the  royal  autograph,  seem  to  be  as  copious 

1  Cabrera,  Filipe  Scgnndo,  lib.  iv.  cap.  2. —  as  the  minutes  themselves. 
Carta  del  Key  Don  Filipe  Segundo  a  Ruy 


ENGLAND  JOINS  IN  THE  WAR.  83 

more  than  once,  from  the  French  ambassador,  in  her  own  court ;  and  her 
throne  had  been  menaced  by  repeated  conspiracies,  which  if  not  organized 
had  been  secretly  encouraged  by  France.  Still,  it  was  not  easy  to  bring  the 
English  nation  to  this  way  of  thinking.  It  had  been  a  particular  proviso  of 
the  marriage-treaty  that  England  should  not  be  made  a  party  to  the  war 
against  France  ;  and  subsequent  events  had  tended  to  sharpen  the  feeling  of 
jealousy  rather  towards  the  Spaniards  than  towards  the  French. 

The  attempted  insurrection  of  Stafford,  who  crossed  over  from  the  shores 
of  France  at  this  time,  did  for  Philip  what  possibly  neither  his  own  arguments 
nor  the  authority  of  Mary  could  have  done.  It  was  the  last  of  the  long  series 
of  indignities  which  had  been  heaped  on  the  country  from  the  same  quarter  ; 
and  parliament  now  admitted  that  it  was  no  longer  consistent  with  its  honour 
to  keep  terms  with  a  power  which  persisted  in  fomenting  conspiracies  to  over- 
turn the  government  and  plunge  the  nation  into  civil  war.*  On  the  seventh 
of  June  a  herald  was  despatched,  with  the  formality  of  ancient  and  somewhat 
obsolete  usages,  to  proclaim  war  against  the  French  king  in  the  presence  of 
his  court  and  in  his  capital.  This  was  done  in  such  a  bold  tone  of  defiance 
that  the  hot  old  Constable  Montmorency,  whose  mode  of  proceeding,  as  we 
have  seen,  was  apt  to  be  summary,  strongly  urged  his  master  to  hang  up  the 
envoy  on  the  spot.* 

The  state  of  affairs  imperatively  demanded  Philip's  presence  in  the  Nether- 
lands, and  after  a  residence  of  less  than  four  months  in  London  he  bade  a 
final  adieu  to  his  disconsolate  queen,  whose  excessive  fondness  may  have  been 
as  little  to  his  taste  as  the  coldness  of  her  subjects. 

Nothing  could  be  more  forlorn  than  the  condition  of  Mary.  Her  health 
wasting  under  a  disease  that  cheated  her  with  illusory  hopes,  which  made  her 
ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  the  world ;  her  throne,  her  very  life,  continually 
menaced  by  conspiracies,  to  some  of  which  even  her  own  sister  was  supposed 
to  be  privy ;  her  spirits  affected  by  the  consciousness  of  the  decline  of  her 
popularity  under  the  gloomy  system  of  persecution  into  which  she  had  been 
lea  by  her  ghostly  advisers  ;  without  friends,  without  children,  almost  it  might 
be  said  without  a  husband, — she  was  alone  in  the  world,  more  to  be  commise- 
rated than  the  meanest  subject  in  her  dominions.  She  has  had  little  commi- 
seration, however,  from  Protestant  writers,  who  paint  her  in  the  odious  colours 
of  a  fanatic.  This  has  been  compensated,  it  may  be  thought,  by  the  Roman 
Catholic  historians,  who  have  invested  the  English  queen  with  all  the  glories 
of  the  saint  and  the  martyr.  Experience  may  convince  us  that  public  acts  do 
not  always  furnish  a  safe  criterion  of  private  character, — especially  when  these 
acts  are  connected  with  religion.  In  the  Catholic  Church  the  individual  might 
seem  to  be  relieved,  in  some  measure,  of  his  moral  responsibility,  by  the  system 
of  discipline  which  intrusts  his  conscience  to  the  Keeping  of  his  spiritual 
advisers.  If  the  lights  of  the  present  day  allow  no  man  to  plead  so  humi- 
liating an  apology,  this  was  not  the  case  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury,— the  age  of  Mary, — when  the  Reformation  had  not  yet  diffused  that 
spirit  of  independence  in  religious  speculation  which,  in  some  degree  at  least, 
has  now  found  its  way  to  the  darkest  corner  of  Christendom. 

'  Herrera,  HlirtorU  general  del  Mundo,  de  —  Uaillard,  Hlstolre  <!>•  la  Klvalite  de  la 
XV.  Aflos  del  Tlempo  del  Sefl'-r  Key  Don  France  et  de  1'Espagne  (Turin,  1«01),  torn.  v. 
Felipe  II.  (Valladolid,  1606),  lib.  iv.  cap.  13.  p.  243. 


[•The    qnentlnn    of    drrlartnf?    war    wa»  lart  bad  been  dissolved  eighteen  months  before, 

debated,  and  finally  decided  in  the  affirmative,  tb«  next  did  not  meet  till  the  ensuing  J  anu- 

by  the  privy  council.   "  Tbere  wan  n<>  parlia-  uy." — Ki>.] 
ment,"  say*  Mr.  Fronde,  "  In  existence ;  tbe 


84  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

A  larger  examination  of  contemporary  documents,  especially  of  the  queen's 
own  correspondence,  justifies  the  inference  that,  with  all  the  infirmities  of  a 
temper  soured  by  disease  and  by  the  difficulties  of  her  position,  she  possessed 
many  of  the  good  qualities  of  her  illustrious  progenitors,  Katharine  of  Aragon 
and  Isabella  of  Castile ;  the  same  conjugal  tenderness  and  devotion,  the  tame 
courage  in  times  of  clanger,  the  same  earnest  desire,  misguided  as  she  was,  to 
do  her  duty, — and,  unfortunately,  the  same  bigotry.  It  was  indeed  most 
unfortunate,  in  Mary's  case,  as  in  that  of  the  Catholic  queen,  that  this  bigotry, 
from  their  position  as  independent  sovereigns,  should  have  been  attended  with 
such  fatal  consequences  as  have  left  an  indelible  blot  on  the  history  of  their 
reigns.4 

On  his  return  to  Brussels,  Philip  busied  himself  with  preparations  for  the 
campaign.  He  employed  the  remittances  from  Spain  to  subsidize  a  large  body 
of  German  mercenaries.  Germany  was  the  country  which  furnished,  at  this 
time,  more  soldiers  of  fortune  than  any  other ;  men  who  served  indifferently 
under  the  banner  that  would  pay  them  best.  They  were  not  exclusively  made 
up  of  infantry,  like  the  Swiss,  but,  besides  pikemen, — lanzknechU, — they 
maintained  a  stout  array  of  cavalry,  reiters,  as  they  were  called, — "  riders,"— 
who,  together  with  the  cuirass  and  other  defensive  armour,  carried  pistols, 
probably  of  rude  workmanship,  but  which  made  them  formidable  from  the 
weapon  being  little  known  in  that  day.  They  were,  indeed,  the  most  dreaded 
troops  of  their  time.  The  men-at-arms,  encumbered  with  their  unwieldy 
lances,  were  drawn  up  in  line,  and  required  an  open  plain  to  manoeuvre  to 
advantage,  being  easily  discomposed  oy  obstacles ;  and  once  broken,  they 
could  hardly  rally.  But  the  reiters,  each  with  five  or  six  pistols  in  his  belt, 
were  formed  into  columns  of  considerable  depth,  the  size  of  their  weapons 
allowing  them  to  go  through  all  the  evolutions  of  light  cavalry,  in  which  they 
were  perfectly  drilled.  Philip's  cavalry  was  further  strengthened  by  a  fine 
corps  of  Burgundian  lances,  and  by  a  great  number  of  nobles  and  cavaliers 
from  Spain,  who  had  come  to  gather  laurels  in  the  fields  of  France,  under  the 
eye  of  their  young  sovereign.  The  flower  of  his  infantry,  too,  was  drawn  from 
Spain  ;  men  who,  independently  of  the  indifference  to  danger  and  wonderful 
endurance  which  made  the  Spanish  soldier  inferior  to  none  of  the  time,  were 
animated  by  that  loyalty  to  the  cause  which  foreign  mercenaries  could  not 
feel  In  addition  to  these,  the  king  expected,  and  soon  after  received,  a  rein- 
forcement of  eight  thousand  English  under  the  earl  of  Pembroke.  They  might 
well  fight  bravely  on  the  soil  where  the  amis  of  England  had  won  two  of  the 
most  memorable  victories  in  her  history. 

The  whole  force,  exclusive  of  the  English,  amounted  to  thirty-five  thousand 
foot  and  twelve  thousand  horse,  besides  a  good  train  of  battering  artillery.* 
The  command  of  this  army  was  given  to  Emanuel  Philibert,  prince  of  Pied- 
mont, better  known  by  his  title  of  duke  of  Savoy.  No  man  had  a  larger  stake 
in  the  contest,  for  he  had  been  stripped  of  his  dominions  by  the  French*  and 
his  recovery  of  them  depended  on  the  issue  of  the  war.  He  was  at  this  time 
but  twenty-nine  years  of  age ;  but  he  had  had  large  experience  in  military 

*  See  Tytler's  valuable  work.  Reigns  of  general,  lib.  iv.  cap.  14. — The  historian  hero, 
Edward  VI.  and  Mary.     The  compilation  of  as  almost  everywhere  else  where  numerical 
this  work  led  its  candid  author  to  conclusions  estimates  are  concerned,  must  content  him- 
eminently  favourable  to  the  personal  character  self  with  what  seems  to  be  the  closr-st  ap- 
of  Queen  Mary.  proximation  to  the  truth.    Some  writers  carry 

*  Conf.  De  Thou,  Histoire  nnivereelle,  torn.  the  Spanish  foot  to  fifty  thousand.     1  b»ve 
iii.  p.  148.— Cabrera,  FHi(>e  Segundo,  lib.  iv.  followed  the  more  temperate  statement  of  the 
cap.   4.  —  Campari  i,    Vita    del    Re    Kilippo  contemporary  De  Thou,  who  would  not  be 
Secondo,  parte  it  lib.  9. — Herrera,  Histuria  likely  to  underrate  the  strength  of  an  enemy. 


PHILIPS  PREPARATIONS.  85 

affairs,  and  had  been  intrusted  by  Charles  the  Fifth,  who  had  early  discerned 
his  capacity,  with  important  commands.  His  whole  life  may  be  said  to  have 
trained  him  for  the  profession  of  arms.  He  had  no  taste  for  effeminate 
pleasures,  but  amused  himself,  in  seasons  of  leisure,  with  the  hardy  exer- 
cise of  the  chase.  He  strengthened  his  constitution,  naturally  not  very 
robust,  by  living  as  much  as  possible  in  the  open  air.  Even  when  conversing, 
or  dictating  to  his  secretaries,  he  preferred  to  do  so  walking  in  his  garden.  He 
was  indiiterent  to  fatigue.  After  hunting  all  day  he  would  seem  to  require  no 
rest,  and  in  a  campaign  had  been  known,  like  the  knights-errant  of  ola,  to  eat, 
drink,  and  sleep  in  his  armour  for  thirty  days  together. 

He  was  temperate  in  his  habits,  eating  little,  and  drinking  water.  He  was 
punctual  in  attention  to  business,  was  sparing  of  his  words,  and,  as  one  may 
gather  from  the  piquant  style  of  his  letters,  had  a  keen  insight  into  character, 
looking  below  the  surface  of  men's  actions  into  their  motives.8 

His  education  had  not  been  neglected.  He  spoke  several  languages  fluently, 
and,  though  not  a  great  reader,  was  fond  of  histories.  He  was  much  devoted 
to  mathematical  science,  which  served  him  in  his  profession,  and  he  was 
reputed  an  excellent  engineer.7  In  person  the  duke  was  of  the  middle  size ; 
well-made,  except  that  he  was  somewhat  bow-legged.  His  complexion  was 
fair,  his  hair  light,  and  his  deportment  very  agreeable. 

Such  is  the  portrait  of  Emanuel  Philibert,  to  whom  Philip  now  entrusted 
the  command  of  his  forces,  and  whose  pretensions  he  warmly  supported  as  the 
suitor  of  Elizabeth  of  England.  There  was  none  more  worthy  of  the  royal 
maiden.  But  the  duke  was  a  Catholic ;  and  Elizabeth,  moreover,  had  seen 
the  odium  which  her  sister  had  incurred  by  her  marriage  with  a  foreign 
sovereign.  Philip,  who  would  have  used  some  constraint  in  the  matter,  pressed 
it  with  such  earnestness  on  the  queen  as  proved  how  much  importance  he 
attached  to  the  connection.  Mary's  conduct  on  the  occasion  was  greatly  to 
her  credit ;  and,  while  she  deprecated  the  displeasure  of  her  lord,  she  honestly 
told  him  that  she  could  not  in  conscience  do  violence  to  the  inclinations  of  her 
sister.' 

The  plan  of  the  campaign,  as  determined  by  Philip's  cabinet,*  was  that  the 
duke  should  immediate  y  besiege  some  one  of  the  great  towns  on  the  northern 
borders  of  Picardy,  which  in  a  manner  commanded  the  entrance  into  the 
Netherlands.  Rocroy  was  the  first  selected.  But  the  garrison,  who  were  well 
provided  with  ammunition,  kept  within  their  defences,  and  maintained  so 
lively  a  cannonade  on  the  Spaniards  that  the  duke,  finding  the  siege  was 
likely  to  consume  more  time  than  it  was  worth,  broke  up  his  camp  and 
resolved  to  march  against  St.  Quentin.  This  was  an  old  frontier  town  of 
Picardy,  important  in  time  of  peace  as  an  entrepot  for  the  trade  that  was 
carried  on  between  France  and  the  Low  Countries.  It  formed  a  convenient 
place  of  deposit,  at  the  present  period,  for  such  booty  as  marauding  parties 
from  time  to  time  brought  back  from  Flanders.  It  was  well  protected 
by  its  natural  situation,  and  the  fortifications  had  been  originally  strong ; 
but,  as  in  many  of  the  frontier  towns,  they  had  been  of  late  years  much 
neglected. 

Before  beginning  operations  against  St.  Qnentin,  the  duke  of  Savoy,  in  order 
to  throw  the  enemy  off  his  guard  and  prevent  his  introducing  supplies  into  the 

*  See  the  letters  of  the  duke  published  in  Francesco  Morosini,  1570,  ap.  Relazioni  degli 

the   Paptera  d'filat  de  Granvelle  (torn,    v.,  Ambaaciatori  Venetl,  vol.  iv. 

l>aMim), — business-like  documents,  reasoned  '  See  the  letter  of  the  queen  to  Philip,  In 

with   lively  criticisms  on  the  characters  of  Strype,  Catalogue  of  Originals,  No.  66. 

tljose  he  had  to  deal  with.  •  Paplen  d'£tat  de  Uranvcllc,  turn.  v.  p. 

7  Kelaziune  de  la  C>ite  di  .Savoja  <JI  Ulo.  US. 


86  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

town,  presented  himself  before  Guise  and  made  a  show  of  laying  siege  to  that 
place.  After  this  demonstration  he  resumed  his  march,  and  suddenly  sat  down 
before  St.  Quentin,  investing  it  with  his  whole  army. 

Meanwhile  the  French  had  been  anxiously  watching  the  movements  of 
their  adversary.  Their  forces  were  assembled  on  several  points  in  Picardy 
and  Champagne.  The  principal  corps  was  under  the  command  of  the  duke  of 
Nevers,  governor  of  the  latter  province,  a  nobleman  of  distinguished  gallantry 
and  who  had  seen  some  active  service.  He  now  joined  his  forces  to  those 
under  Montmorency,  the  constable  of  France,  who  occupied  a  central  position 
in  Picardy,  and  who  now  took  the  command,  for  which  his  rash  and  impetuous 
temper  but  indifferently  qualified  him.  As  soon  as  the  object  of  the  Spaniards 
was  known,  it  was  resolved  to  reinforce  the  garrison  of  St.  Quentin,  which  other- 
wise, it  was  understood,  could  not  hold  out  a  week.  This  perilous  duty  was 
assumed  by  Gaspard  de  Coligni,  admiral  of  France.10  This  personage,  the  head 
of  an  ancient  and  honoured  nouse,  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  his 
time.  His  name  has  gained  a  mournful  celebrity  in  the  page  of  history,  as  that 
of  the  chief  martyr  in  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.  He  embraced  the 
doctrines  of  Calvin,  and  by  his  austere  manners  and  the  purity  of  his  life  well 
illustrated  the  doctrines  he  embraced.  The  decent  order  of  his  household,  and 
their  scrupulous  attention  to  the  services  of  religion,  forming  a  striking  con- 
trast to  the  licentious  conduct  of  too  many  of  the  Catholics,  who,  however, 
were  as  prompt  as  Coligni  to  do  battle  in  defence  of  their  faith.  In  early  life 
he  was  the  gay  companion  of  the  duke  of  Guise."  But  as  the  Calvinists,  or 
Huguenots,  were  driven  by  persecution  to  an  independent  and  even  hostile 
position,  the  two  friends,  widely  separated  by  opinion  and  by  interest,  were 
changed  into  mortal  foes.  That  hour  had  not  yet  come.  But  the  heresy  that 
•was  soon  to  shake  France  to  its  centre  was  silently  working  under  ground. 

As  the  admiral  was  well  instructed  in  military  affairs,  and  was  possessed  of 
an  intrepid  spirit  and  great  fertility  of  resource,  he  was  precisely  the  person  to 
undertake  the  difficult  office  of  defending  St.  Quentin.  As  governor  of  Picardy 
he  felt  this  to  be  his  duty.  Without  loss  of  time,  he  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  some  ten  or  twelve  hundred  men,  horse  and  foot,  and  used  such  despatch 
that  he  succeeded  in  entering  the  place  before  it  had  been  entirely  invested. 
He  had  the  mortification,  however,  to  be  followed  only  by  seven  hundred 
of  his  men,  the  remainder  having  failed  through  fatigue  or  mistaken  the 
path. 

The  admiral  found  the  place  in  even  worse  condition  than  he  had  expected. 
The  fortifications  were  much  dilapidated  ;  and  in  many  parts  of  the  wall  the 
masonry  was  of  so  flimsy  a  character  that  it  must  have  fallen  before  the  first 
discharge  of  the  enemy's  cannon.  The  town  was  victualled  for  three  weeks, 
and  the  magazines  were  tolerably  well  supplied  with  ammunition.  But  there 
were  not  fifty  arquebuses  fit  for  use. 

St.  Quentin  stands  on  a  gentle  eminence,  protected  on  one  side  by  marshes, 
or  rather  a  morass  of  great  extent,  through  which  flows  the  river  Somme,  or  a 
branch  of  it.  On  the  same  side  of  the  river  with  St.  Quentin  lay  the  army  of 

10  De  Thou,  Histoire  univerwlle,  torn.  iii.  confederez    de   court,   que  J'ay    ouy   dire  a 

p.  147. — Commentaires  de  Francois  de  Rabu-  plusicrs  qui  les  ont  vt-us  babiller   le  plus 

tin,   ap.    Nouvelle  Collection  des  Memoirea  souvant  de  mestnes  parures,  mf-smes  livrees, 

pour  servir  a  1' Histoire  de  France,  par  MM.  ...  tons  deux  fort  enjoQez  et  faisunt  des 

Alichaud  et  Poujoulat  (Paris,  1838),  torn.  vii.  follies  plus  extravapantes  que  tous  lesautres; 

p.   535. — Herrera,   Histona  general,   lib.   tv.  et  sur  tout  ne  faisoient  nulles  follies  qu'ils  ne 

cap.   14. — Cabrera,    Fili;.e   Segundo,   lib.   iv.  fissent  uial,  tant  ils  etoient  rud  s  joiieiirs  et 

cap.  -8.  malheureux  en  leurs  jeux."    BrantCme,  Gv.:- 

•'  "  Ils  furent  tons  deux,  duns  leur  jeunes  vres,  torn.  iii.  p.  265. 
ana,  .   .  .  sy    grands    compagnons,  amis    et 


SIEGE  OF  ST.  QUENTIN.  87 

the  besiegers,  with  their  glittering  lines  extending  to  the  very  verge  of  the 
morass.  A  broad  ditch  defended  the  outer  wall  But  this  ditch  was  com- 
manded by  the  houses  of  the  suburbs,  which  had  already  been  taken  posses- 
sion of  by  the  besiegers.  There  was,  moreover,  a  thick  plantation  of  trees 
close  to  the  town,  which  would  afford  an  effectual  screen  for  the  approach  of 
an  enemy. 

One  of  the  admiral's  first  acts  was  to  cause  a  sortie  to  be  made.  The  ditch 
was  crossed,  and  some  of  the  houses  were  burned  to  the  ground.  The  trees 
on  the  banks  were  then  levelled,  and  the  approach  to  the  town  was  laid  open. 
Every  preparation  was  made  for  a  protracted  defence.  The  exact  quantity 
of  provision  was  ascertained,  and  trie  rations  were  assigned  for  each  man's 
daily  consumption.  As  the  supplies  were  inadequate  to  support  the  increased 
population  for  any  length  of  time,  Coligni  ordered  that  all  except  those  actively 
engaged  in  the  defence  of  the  place  should  leave  it  without  delay.  Many, 
under  one  pretext  or  another,  contrived  to  remain,  and  share  the  fortunes  of 
the  garrison.  But  by  this  regulation  he  got  rid  of  seven  hundred  useless 
persons,  who.  if  they  had  stayed,  must  have  been  the  victims  of  famine ;  and 
"  their  dead  bodies,  the  admiral  coolly  remarked,  "  would  have  bred  a  pesti- 
lence among  the  soldiers."  " 

He  assigned  to  his  men  their  several  posts,  talked  boldly  of  maintaining 
himself  against  all  the  troops  of  Spain,  and  by  his  cheerful  tone  endeavoured 
to  inspire  a  confidence  in  others  which  he  was  far  from  feeling  himself.  From 
one  oi  the  highest  towers  he  surveyed  the  surrounding  country,  tried  to  as- 
certain the  most  practicable  fords  in  the  morass,  and  sent  intelligence  to 
Montmorency  that,  without  relief,  the  garrison  could  not  hold  out  more  than 
a  few  days.1* 

That  commander,  soon  after  the  admiral's  departure,  had  marched  his  army 
to  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  Quentin,  and  established  it  in  the  towns  of  La 
Fere  and  Ham,  together  with  the  adjoining  villages,  so  as  to  watch  the  move- 
ments of  the  Spaniards,  and  co-operate,  as  occasion  served,  with  the  besieged. 
He  at  once  determined  to  strengthen  the  garrison,  if  possible,  by  a  reinforce- 
ment of  two  thousand  men  under  Dandelot,  a  younger  brother  of  the  admiral, 
and  not  inferior  to  him  in  audacity  and  enterprise.  But  the  expedition 
miserably  failed.  Through  the  treachery  or  the  ignorance  of  the  guide,  the 

Earty  mistook  the  path,  came  on  one  of  the  enemy's  outposts,  and,  disconcerted 
y  the  accident,  were  thrown  into  confusion  and  many  of  them  cut  to  pieces 
or  drowned  in  the  morass.    Their  leader,  with  the  remainder,  succeeded,  under 
cover  of  the  night,  in  making  his  way  back  to  La  Fere. 

The  constable  now  resolved  to  make  another  attempt  and  in  the  open  day. 
He  proposed  to  send  a  body,  under  the  same  commander,  in  boats  across  the 
Somme,  and  to  cover  the  embarkation  in  person  with  his  whole  army.  His 
force  was  considerably  less  than  that  of  the  Spaniards,  amounting  in  all  to 
about  eighteen  thousand  foot  and  six  thousand  horse,  besides  a  train  of 
artillery  consisting  of  sixteen  guns.14  His  levies,  like  those  of  his  antagonist, 

11  ••  II  falloit  le»  nourrir  ou  les  falre  monrir  "  There  is  not  BO  much  discrepancy  In  the 

ill-  faim,  qut  rust  peu  apporter  one  peste  dans  estimates  of  the  French  as  of  the  Spanish  force, 

la  ville."  Memoire*  <!>•  Gowpard  de  Collgnt,  I  have  accepted  the  statements  of  the  Kreoch 

ap.  ('citation  universellp  dea  .Memoires  par-  historians  Gamier  (Hirtolre  de  France,  torn, 

ticulirnt  MatlfR  a  1'Histolre  de  France  (Parts,  zxvti.  p.  354)  and  I>e  Thou  (torn.  III.  p.  148), 

J7HM),  loin.  xl.  p.  252.  who.  however,  puU  the  cavalry  at  one  tbon- 

"  Memoires  de  Collfrnl. — De  Thou,  Hit-  sand  lesx.  For  authorities  on  the  Spanish 

tolrr  univprselle,  torn,  ill.  p.  161. — Kabutin,  side,  see  Cabrera,  Flllpe  Segundo,  lib.  iv.  cap. 

•p.  Noiivelle  Collection  de.i  Memoires.  torn.  7,— Herrera,  Historla  general,  lib.  Iv.  cap.  15, 

vli.  p.  MO.— Gamier.  Hlstoire  de  Franca  — Campana,  Vita  del  Ue  Fillppo  Secoodo, 

(Paris,  1787),  torn,  xxrti.  p.  36H.  part..-  ii.  lib.  9. 


88  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

were  largely  made  up  of  German  mercenaries.  The  French  peasantry,  with 
the  exception  of  the  Gascons,  who  formed  a  fine  body  of  infantry,  had  long 
since  ceased  to  serve  in  war.  But  the  chivalry  of  France  was  represented  by 
as  gallant  an  array  of  nobles  and  cavaliers  as  ever  fought  under  the  banner 
of  the  lilies. 

On  the  ninth  of  August,  1557,  Montmorency  put  his  whole  army  in  motion  ; 
and  on  the  following  morning,  the  memorable  day  of  St.  Lawrence,  by  nine 
o'clock,  he  took  up  a  position  on  the  bank  of  the  Somme.  On  the  opposite 
side,  nearest  the  town,  lay  the  Spanish  force,  covering  the  ground,  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  with  their  white  pavilions  ;  while  the  banners  of  Spain, 
of  Flanders,  and  of  England,  unfurled  in  the  morning  breeze,  showed  the 
various  nations  from  which  the  motley  host  had  been  gathered.15 

On  the  constable's  right  was  a  windmill,  commanding  a  ford  of  the  river 
which  led  to  the  Spanish  quarters.  The  building  was  held  by  a  small  detach- 
ment of  the  enemy.  Montmorency's  first  care  was  to  get  possession  of 
the  mill,  which  he  did  without  difficulty ;  and  by  placing  a  garrison  there, 
under  the  prince  of  Conde,  he  secured  himself  for  surprise  in  that  quarter. 
He  then  profited  by  a  rising  ground  to  get  his  guns  in  position  so  as  to  sweep 
the  opposite  bank,  and  at  once  opened  a  brisk  cannonade  on  the  enemy.  The 
march  of  the  French  had  been  concealed  by  some  intervening  hills,  so  that 
when  they  suddenly  appeared  on  the  farther  side  of  the  Somme  it  was  as  if 
they  had  dropped  from  the  clouds  ;  and  the  shot  which  fell  among  the  Span- 
iards threw  them  into  great  disorder.  There  was  hurrying  to  and  fro,  and 
some  of  the  balls  striking  the  duke  of  Savoy's  tent,  he  had  barely  time 
to  escape  with  his  armour  in  his  hand.  It  was  necessary  to  abandon  his 
position,  and  he  marched  some  three  miles  down  the  river,  to  the  quarters 
occupied  by  the  commander  of  the  cavalry,  Count  Egmont.16 

Montmorency,  as  much  elated  with  this  cheap  success  as  if  it  had  been  a 
victory,  now  set  himself  about  passing  his  troops  across  the  water.  It  was 
attended  with  more  difficulty  than  he  liad  expected.  There  were  no  boats 
in  readiness,  and  two  hours  were  wasted  in  procuring  them.  After  all,  only 
four  or  five  could  be  obtained,  and  these  so  small  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  cross  and  recross  the  stream  many  times  to  effect  the  object.  The  boats, 
crowded  with  as  many  as  they  could  carry,  stuck  fast  in  the  marshy  banks,  or 
rather  quagmire,  on  the  opposite  side ;  and  when  some  of  the  soldiers  jumped 
out  to  lighten  the  load,  they  were  swallowed  up  and  suffocated  in  the  mud." 
To  add  to  these  distresses,  they  were  galled  by  the  incessant  fire  of  a  body  of 
troops  which  the  Spanish  general  had  stationed  011  an  eminence  that  com- 
manded the  landing. 

While,  owing  to  these  causes,  the  transportation  of  the  troops  was  going 
slowly  on,  the  duke  of  Savoy  had  called  a  council  of  war,  and  determined  that 
the  enemy,  since  he  had  ventured  so  near,  should  not  be  allowed  to  escape 
•without  a  battle.  There  was  a  practicable  ford  in  the  river,  close  to  Count 
Egmont's  quarters  ;  and  that  officer  received  orders  to  cross  it  at  the  head  of 

15  Rabutin,   ap.   Nouvelle   Collection   des  due  de  Nevers. 
Memoires,  torn.  vii.  p.  548.  "  "  Encore  a  sortir  des  bateaux,  a  cause  de 

"  Rabutin,   ap.   Nouvelle    Collection    des  la  presse,  IPS  soldats  nc  pouvoient  suivre  lea 

Memoires,  torn.  vii.  p.  548. — Vonpleinchamp,  addresses  et  sentes  qni  leur  estoient  appareil- 

Histoire  d'Eramanuel  Philibert  Due  de  Savoie  lees;  de  facon  qu'ils  s'escartoient  et  se  jettoi- 

( Amsterdam,  1699),  p.  146.— De  Thou,  His-  ent  a  coste  dans  les  creux  des  marets,  d'ou  ils 

toire  universelle,  torn.  iii.  p.  157. — The  first  ne  ponvoient  sotir,  et  demeuroient  la  embour- 

of  these  writers,  Francois  de  Kabutin,  is  one  bez  et  noyez."    Rabutin,  ap.  Nouvelle  Colleo- 

of  the  best  authorities  for  these  transactions,  tion  des  Memoires,  torn.  vii.  p.  549. 
in   which  he  took  part  as  a  follower  of  the 


BATTLE  OF  ST.  QUENTIN.  89 

his  cavalry  and  amuse  the  enemy  until  the  main  body  of  the  Spanish  army, 
under  the  duke,  should  have  time  to  come  up. 

Lamoral,  Count  Egmont,  and  prince  of  Gavre,  a  person  who  is  to  occupy  a 
large  space  in  our  subsequent  pages,  was  a  Flemish  noble  of  an  ancient  and 
illustrious  lineage.  He  had  early  attracted  the  notice  of  the  emperor,  who 
had  raised  him  to  various  important  offices,  both  civil  and  military,  in  which 
he  had  acquitted  himself  with  honour.  At  this  time,  when  thirty-five  years 
old,  he  held  the  post  of  lieutenant-general  of  the  horse,  and  that  of  governor 
of  Flanders. 

Egmont  was  of  a  lofty  and  aspiring  nature,  filled  with  dreams  of  glory,  and 
so  much  elated  by  success  that  the  duke  of  Savoy  was  once  obliged  to  rebuke 
him,  by  reminding  him  that  he  was  not  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  army.18 
With  these  defects  he  united  some  excellent  qualities,  which  not  unfrequently 
go  along  with  them.  In  his  disposition  he  was  frank  and  manly,  and,  though 
hasty  in  temper,  had  a  warm  and  generous  heart  He  was  distinguished  by 
a  chivalrous  bearing,  and  a  showy,  imposing  address,  which  took  with  the 
people,  by  whom  his  name  was  held  dear  in  later  times  for  his  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  freedom.  He  was  a  dashing  officer,  prompt  and  intrepid,  well  fitted 
for  a  brilliant  coup-de-main,  or  for  an  affair  like  the  present,  which  required 
energy  and  despatch  ;  and  he  eagerly  undertook  the  duty  assigned  him. 

The  light  horse  first  passed  over  the  ford,  the  existence  of  which  was  known 
to  Montmorency  ;  and  ne  had  detached  a  corps  of  German  pistoleers,  of  whom 
there  was  a  body  in  the  French  service,  to  defend  the  passage.  But  the 
number  was  too  small,  and  the  Burgundian  horse,  followed  by  the  infantry, 
advanced,  in  face  of  the  fire,  as  coolly  and  in  as  good  order  as  if  they  had  been 
on  parade."  The  constable  soon  received  tidings  that  the  enemy  had  begun 
to  cross  ;  and,  aware  of  his  mistake,  he  reinforced  his  pistoleers  with  a  squadron 
of  horse  under  the  due  de  Nevers.  It  was  too  late :  when  the  French  com- 
mander reached  the  ground  the  enemy  had  already  crossed  in  such  strength 
that  it  would  have  been  madness  to  attack  him.  After  a  brief  consultation 
with  his  officers,  Nevers  determined,  by  as  speedy  a  countermarch  as  possible, 
to  join  the  main  body  of  the  army. 

The  prince  of  Conde,  as  has  been  mentioned,  occupied  the  mill  which  com- 
manded the  other  ford,  on  the  right  of  Montmorency.  From  its  summit  he 
could  descry  the  movements  of  the  Spaniards,  and  their  battalions  debouching 
on  the  plain,  with  scarcely  any  opposition  from  the  French.  He  advised  the 
constable  of  this  at  once,  and  suggested  the  necessity  pf  an  immediate  retreat 
The  veteran  did  not  relish  advice  from  one  so  much  younger  tlian  himself,  and 
testily  replied,  "  I  was  a  soldier  before  the  prince  of  Conde'  was  born ;  and, 
by  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  I  trust  to  teach  him  some  good  lessons  in  war  for 
many  a  year  to  come."  Nor  would  he  quit  the  ground  while  a  man  of  the 
reinforcement  under  Dandelot  remained  to  cross.*0 

The  cause  of  this  fatal  confidence  was  information  he  had  received  that  the 
ford  was  too  narrow  to  allow  more  than  four  or  five  persons  to  pass  abreast, 
which  would  give  him  time  enough  to  send  over  the  troops  ana  then  secure 
his  own  retreat  to  La  Fere.  As  it  turned  out  unfortunately,  the  ford  was 
wide  enough  to  allow  fifteen  or  twenty  men  to  go  abreast 

'•  Brant.'me,  (Kuvren.  torn.  i.  p.  361.  *°  "  Manda  au  prince,  pour  toute  reponse, 

'*  I  quote  the  w<  nUof  M<>iipleliicliarup(Hl8-  qu'il  etolt  bien  jeune  pour  voulolr  lui  appren- 

tolre  du  Due  de  Savole,  p.  U7),  who,  however,  arc  son  uii'ticr,  qu'il  cuuamandolt  !••»  armeea 

speak*  of  ibe  fire  as  coining  from  tbe  artillery,  nvant  que  celul-cl  fut  au  mondc.  et  qu'tl  conip- 

— hardly  probable,  as  the   Kr.-nch  batteries  toll  birn  en  vingt  an*  lui  donner  encore  dva 

were  three  miles  distant,  up  the  river.     But  lec^ns."    <>arnler,  Hlstolr*  de  France,  torn, 

accuracy  does  not  appear  to  be  the  chief  virtue  xxvil.  p.  304. 
of  thi*  writer. 


90  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

The  French,  meanwhile,  who  had  crossed  the  river,  after  landing  on  the 
opposite  bank,  were  many  of  them  killed  or  disabled  by  the  Spanish  arquc- 
busiers  ;  others  were  lost  in  the  morass  ;  and  of  the  whole  number  not  more 
than  four  hundred  and  fifty,  wet,  wounded,  and  weary,  with  Dandelot  at  their 
head,  succeeded  in  throwing  themselves  into  St.  Quentin.  The  constable., 
having  seen  the  last  boat  put  off,  gave  instant  orders  for  retreat.  The 
artillery  was  sent  forward  in  the  front,  then  followed  the  infantry,  and,  last  of 
all,  he  brought  up  the  rear  with  the  horse,  of  which  he  took  command  in 
person.  He  endeavoured  to  make  up  for  the  precious  time  he  had  lost  by 
quickening  his  march,  which,  however,  was  retarded  by  the  heavy  guns  in  the 
van. 

The  due  de  Nevers,  as  we  have  seen,  declining  to  give  battle  to  the 
Spaniards  who  had  crossed  the  stream,  had  prepared  to  retreat  on  the  main 
body  of  the  army.  On  reaching  the  ground  lately  occupied  by  his  countrymen, 
he  found  it  abandoned ;  and  joining  Conde,  who  still  held  the  mill,  the  two 
officers  made  all  haste  to  overtake  the  constable. 

Meanwhile,  Count  Egmont,  as  soon  as  he  was  satisfied  that  he  was  in 
sufficient  strength  to  attack  the  enemy,  gave  orders  to  advance  without  wait- 
ing for  more  troops  to  share  with  him  the  honours  of  victory.  Crossing  the 
field  lately  occupied  by  the  constable,  he  took  the  great  road  to  La  Fere.  But 
the  rising  ground  which  lay  between  him  and  the  French  prevented  him  from 
seeing  the  enemy  until  he  had  accomplished  half  a  league  or  more.  The  day 
was  now  well  advanced,  and  the  Flemish  captain  had  some  fears  that,  notwith- 
standing his  speed,  the  quarry  had  escaped  him.  But,  as  he  turned  the  hill, 
he  had  the  satisfaction  to  descry  the  French  columns  in  full  retreat.  On  their 
rear  hung  a  body  of  sutlers  and  other  followers  of  the  camp,  who  by  the  sudden 
apparition  of  the  Spaniards  were  thrown  into  a  panic,  which  they  nad  wellnigh 
communicated  to  the  rest  of  the  army.21  To  retreat  before  an  enemy  is  in 
itself  a  confession  of  weakness  sufficiently  dispiriting  to  the  soldier.  Mont- 
mqrency,  roused  by  the  tumult,  saw  the  dark  cloud  gathering  along  the 
heights,  and  knew  that  it  must  soon  burst  on  him.  In  this  emergency,  he 
asked  counsel  of  an  old  officer  near  him  as  to  what  he  should  do.  "  Had  you 
asked  me,"  replied  the  other,  "  two  hours  since,  I  could  have  told  you  :  it  is 
now  too  late."  "  It  was  indeed  too  late,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  face  about  and  fight  the  Spaniards.  The  constable,  accordingly,  gave 
the  word  to  halt,  and  made  dispositions  to  receive  his  assailants. 

Egmont,  seeing  him  .thus  prepared,  formed  his  own  squadron  into  three 
divisions.  One,  which  was  to  turn  the  left  flank  of  the  French,  he  gave  to 
the  prince  of  Brunswick  and  to  Count  Hoorne, — a  name  afterwards  associated 
with  his  own  on  a  sadder  occasion  than  the  present.  Another,  composed 
chiefly  of  Germans,  he  placed  under  Count  Mansfeldt,  with  orders  to  assail  the 
centre.  He  himself,  at  the  head  of  his  Burgundian  lances,  rode  on  the  left 
against  Montmorency's  right  flank.  Orders  were  then-  given  to  charge,  and, 
spurring  forward  their  horses,  the  whole  column  came  thundering  on  against 
the  enemy.  The  French  met  the  shock  like  well-trained  soldiers,  as  they 
were  ;  but  the  cavalry  fell  on  them  with  the  fury  of  a  torrent  sweeping  every- 
thing before  it,  and  for  a  few  moments  it  seemea  as  if  all  were  lost.  But  the 

*'  Rabutin,  who  gives  this  account,  says  it  d'Oignon,  offlcier  experiments,  Illnidemanda: 

would  be  impossible  to  tell  how  the  disorder  bon  homme,  que  faut-il  faire  ?  Monseigneur, 

began.  It  came  upon  them  so  like  a  thunder-  re'pondit  d'Oignon,  il  y  a  deux  heures  que  .je 

clap  that  no  man  had  a  distinct  recollection  of  vous  1'anrui*  bien  dit,  maint»nant  je  n'en  pais 

what  passed.  Rabutin,  ap.  Nouvelle  Collec-  rien."  Gamier,  Histoirede  France,  torn,  xxvii. 

tion  lies  Metnoires,  torn.  vii.  p.  550.  p.  368. 

"  "  Appellant  1  lui  dans  ce  trouble  le  vieux 


FRENCH  ARMY  ROUTED.  91 

French  chivalry  was  true  to  its  honour,  and  at  the  call  of  Montmorency,  who 
gallantly  threw  himself  into  the  thick  of  the  fight,  it  rallied,  and,  returning 
the  charge,  compelled  the  assailants  to  give  way  in  their  turn.  The  struggle, 
now  continued  on  more  equal  terms,  grew  desperate  ;  man  against  man,  horse 
against  horse, — it  seemed  to  be  a  contest  of  personal  prowess  rather  than  of 
tactics  or  military  science.  So  well  were  the  two  parties  matched  that  for  a 
long  time  the  issue  was  doubtful ;  and  the  Spaniards  might  not  have  prevailed 
in  the  end,  but  for  the  arrival  of  reinforcements,  both  foot  and  heavy  cavalry, 
who  came  up  to  their  support.  Unable  to  withstand  this  accumulated  force, 
the  French  cavaliers,  overpowered  by  numbers,  not  by  superior  valour,  began 
to  give  ground.  Hard  pressed  by  Egmont,  who  cheered  on  his  men  to 
renewed  efforts,  their  ranks  were  at  length  broken.  The  retreat  became  a 
flight ;  and,  scattered  over  the  field  in  all  directions,  they  were  hotly  pursued 
by  their  adversaries,  especially  the  German  schwarzreiters, — those  riders 
"  black  as  devils,"  M — who  did  such  execution  with  their  fire-arms  as  completed 
the  discomfiture  of  the  French. 

Amidst  this  confusion,  the  Gascons,  the  flower  of  the  French  infantry, 
behaved  with  admirable  coolness.24  Throwing  themselves  into  squares,  with 
the  pikemen  armed  with  their  long  pikes  in  front,  and  the  arquebusiers  in  the 
centre,  they  presented  an  impenetrable  array,  against  which  the  tide  of  battle 
raged  and  chafed  in  impotent  fury.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  Spanish  horse 
rode  round  the  solid  masses  bristling  with  steel,  if  possible,  to  force  an 
entrance,  while  an  occasional  shot,  striking  a  trooper  from  his  saddle,  warned 
them  not  to  approach  too  near. 

It  was  in  this  state  of  things  that  the  duke  of  Savoy,  with  the  remainder 
of  the  troops,  including  the  artillery,  came  on  the  field  of  action.  His  arrival 
could  not  have  been  more  seasonable.  The  heavy  guns  were  speedily  turned 
on  the  French  squares,  whose  dense  array  presented  an  obvious  mark  to  the 
Spanish  bullets.  Their  firm  ranks  were  rent  asunder ;  and,  as  the  brave  men 
tried  in  vain  to  close  over  the  bodies  of  their  dying  comrades,  the  horse  took 
advantage  of  the  openings  to  plunge  into  the  midst  of  the  phalanx.  Here 
the  long  spears  of  the  pikemen  were  of  no  avail,  and,  striking  right  and 
left,  the  cavaliers  dealt  death  on  every  side.  All  now  was  confusion  and 
irretrievable  ruin.  No  one  thought  of  fighting,  or  even  of  self-defence.  The 
only  thought  was  of  flight.  Men  overturned  one  another  in  their  eagerness 
to  escape.  They  were  soon  mingled  with  the  routed  cavalry,  who  rode  down 
their  own  countrymen.  Horses  ran  about  the  field  without  riders.  Many  of 
the  soldiers  threw  away  their  arms,  to  fly  the  more  quickly.  All  strove  to 
escape  from  the  terrible  pursuit  which  hung  on  their  rear.  The  artillery  and 
ammunition-wagons  choked  up  the  road  and  obstructed  the  flight  of  the  fugi- 
tives. The  slaughter  was  dreadful.  The  best  blood  of  France  flowed  like  water. 

Yet  mercy  was  shown  to  those  who  asked  it.  Hundreds  and  thousands 
threw  down  their  arms  and  obtained  quarter.  Nevers.  according  to  some 
accounts,  covered  the  right  flank  of  the  French  army.  Others  state  that  he 
was  separated  from  it  by  a  ravine  or  valley.  At  all  events,  he  fared  no  better 
than  his  leader.  He  was  speedily  enveloped  by  the  cavalry  of  Hoorne  and 
Brunswick,  and  his  fine  corps  of  fight  horse  cut  to  pieces.  He  himself,  with 
the  prince  of  <Jond6.  was  so  fortunate  as  to  make  his  escape,  with  the  remnant 
of  his  force,  to  La  Fere. 

M  *  Noirs  commede  beaux  dlablcs."  Bran-  completion  et  blen  annoe*.  qne  Ton  en  avolt 

tome,  (Kuvrcn,  torn.  ill.  p.  i-.v  veu  en  Kiance  il  y  avoit  long-temps."  Ka- 

"  "  let-He*  rompagnitsdefantrie,  enceptu  butin.  ap.  Nouvelle  CulKctlun  ties  Mlmolres, 

qu'ellea  M  t  omportolcnt,  auUnt  belles,  blcn  turn.  vti.  p.  651. 


02  WAR  WITH   FRANCE. 

Had  the  Spaniards  followed  up  the  pursuit,  few  Frenchmen  might  have 
been  left  that  day  to  tell  the  story  of  the  rout  of  St.  Quentin.  But  the  fight 
had  already  lasted  four  hours  ;  evening  was  setting  in  ;  and  the  victors,  spent 
with  toil  and  sated  with  carnage,  were  content  to  take  up  their  quarters  on 
the  field  of  battle. 

The  French,  in  the  mean  time,  made  their  way,  one  after  another,  to  La 
Fere,  and,  huddling  together  in  the  public  squares,  or  in  the  quarters  they 
had  before  occupied,  remained  like  a  herd  of  panic-struck  deer  in  whose  ears 
the  sounds  of  the  chase  are  still  ringing.  But  the  loyal  cavaliers  threw  off 
their  panic,  and  recovered  heart,  when  a  rumour  reached  them  that  their 
commander,  Montmorency,  was  still  making  head,  with  a  body  of  stout 
followers,  against  the  enemy.  At  the  tidings,  faint  and  bleeding  as  they  were, 
they  sprang  to  the  saddles  which  they  had  just  quitted,  and  were  ready  again 
to  take  the  field." 

But  the  rumour  was  without  foundation.  Montmorency  was  a  prisoner  in 
the  hands  of  the  Spaniards.  The  veteran  had  exposed  his  own  life  throughout 
the  action,  as  if  willing  to  show  that  he  would  not  shrink  in  any  degree  from 
the  peril  into  which  he  had  brought  his  followers.  When  he  saw  that  the  day 
was  lost,  he  threw  himself  into  the  hottest  of  the  battle,  holding  life  cheap  in 
comparison  with  honour.  A  shot  from  the  pistol  of  a  schwarzreiter,  fracturing 
his  thigh,  disabled  him  from  further  resistance  ;  and  he  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Spaniards,  who  treated  him  with  the  respect  due  to  his  rank.  The  number 
of  prisoners  was  very  large, — according  to  some  accounts,  six  thousand,  of 
whom  six  hundred  were  said  to  be  gentfemen  and  persons  of  condition.  The 
number  of  the  slain  is  stated,  as  usual,  with  great  discrepancy,  varying  from 
three  to  six  thousand.  A  much  larger  proportion  of  them  than  usual  were 
men  of  family.  Many  a  noble  house  in  France  went  into  mourning  for  that 
day.  Among  those  who  fell  was  Jean  de  Bourbon,  count  d'Enghien,  a  prince 
of  the  blood.  Mortally  wounded,  he  was  carried  to  the  tent  of  the  duke  of 
Savoy,  where  he  soon  after  expired,  and  his  body  was  sent  to  his  countrymen 
at  La  Fere  for  honourable  burial.  To  balance  this  bloody  roll,  no  account 
states  the  loss  of  the  Spaniards  at  over  a  thousand  men.*' 

More  than  eighty  standards,  including  those  of  the  cavalry,  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  victors,  together  with  all  the  artillery,  ammunition -wagons,  and  baggage 
of  the  enemy.  France  had  not  experienced  such  a  defeat  since  the  battle  of 
Agincourt.27 

King  Philip  had  left  Brussels,  and  removed  his  quarters  to  Cambray,  that 
he  might  be  near  the  duke  of  Savoy,  with  whom  he  kept  up  daily  communica- 
tion throughout  the  siege.  Immediately  after  the  battle,  on  the  eleventh  of 
August,  he  visited  the  camp  in  person.  At  the  same  time,  he  wrote  to  his 
father,  expressing  his  regret  that  he  had  not  been  there  to  share  the  glory  of 

™  "Aces  nouvelles  s'esleverent  tellement  ware   with  the  Moslems  in   the   Peninsula, 

lenrs  esprits  et  courages  qu'ils  recoururent  where,  if  we  are  to  take  the  account  of  the 

incontinent  aux  armes.  et  n'oyoi'-on  plus  par-  Spaniards,  their  loss  was  usually  as  one  to  a 

tout  que  demander  harnois  et  chevaux,  et  hundred  of  the  enemy. 

tronip«  ttes  sonner  a  cheval,  ayant  chacun  re-  v  For  the  preceding  pages,  seeRabutin,  ap. 

couvert  ses  forces  et  sentimens  pour  venger  la  Nouvelle  Colleition  des  Meinoires,  torn.  vii. 

bonte  precedente  ;   toutefois  ce  murmure  se  pp.  548-552,— Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  iv. 

trouvanuletilemeuraassoupienpeud'heure."  cap.   7, — Campaha,   Vita  del  Re  Filippo  Se- 

Kabutin,   ap.   Nouvelle  Collection   des    lie-  condo,  parte  ii.  lib.  9, — Monpleincuainp,  Vie 

moiros,  tom.  vii.  p.  552.  du  Due  de  Savoie,  pp.  146-150, — Herrera,  His- 

"  Caiupana,  Vita  del  Re  Filippo  Secondo,  toria  general,  lib.  iv.  cap.  15, — De  Thou,  His- 

parte  ii.  lib.  9. — According  to  some  accounts,  toire  universelle,  torn.  Hi.  pp.  154-160,— Gar- 

the  loss  did  not  exceed  fifty.    This,  consider-  nier,  Hi>toire  de  France,  tom.  xxvii.  pp.  361- 

Inis  the  spirit  aivl  length  of  the  contest,  will  372, — Cartade  Felipe  2<ioasu  padreanuucian- 

bardly  be  credited.     It  reminds  one  of  the  dole  la  victoria  de  San  Qucntln,  MS. 


FRENCH  ARMY  ROUTED.  93 

the  day.*8  The  emperor  seems  to  have  heartily  shared  this  regret.2*  It  is 
quite  certain,  if  Charles  had  had  the  direction  of  aliairs,  he  would  not  have 
been  absent.  But  Philip  had  not  the  bold,  adventurous  spirit  of  his  father. 
His  talent  lay  rather  in  meditation  than  in  action  ;  and  his  calm,  deliberate 
forecast  better  fitted  him  for  the  council  than  the  camp.  In  enforcing  levies, 
in  raising  supplies,  in  superintending  the  organization  of  the  army,  ne  was 
indefatigable.  The  plan  of  the  campaign  was  determined  under  his  own  eye  ; 
and  he  was  most  sagacious  in  the  selection  of  his  agents.  But  to  those  agents 
he  prudently  left  the  conduct  of  the  war,  for  which  he  had  no  taste,  perhaps 
no  capacity,  himself.  He  did  not,  like  his  rival,  Henry  the  Second,  fancy 
himself  a  great  captain  because  he  could  carry  away  the  prizes  of  a  tourney. 

Philip  was  escorted  to  the  camp  by  his  household  troops.  He  appeared  on 
this  occasion  armed  cap-d-pie, — a  thing  by  no  means  common  with  him.  It 
seems  to  have  pleased  his  fancy  to  be  painted  in  military  costume.  At  least, 
there  are  several  portraits  of  him  in  complete  mail, — one  from  the  pencil  of 
Titian.  A  picture  taken  at  the  present  time  was  sent  by  him  to  Queen  Mary, 
who,  in  this  age  of  chivalry,  may  have  felt  some  pride  in  seeing  her  lord  in  the 
panoply  of  war. 

On  the  king's  arrival  at  the  camp,  he  was  received  with  all  the  honours  of  a 
victor,— with  flourishes  of  trumpets,  salvos  of  artillery,  and  the  loud  shouts  of 
the  soldiery.  The  duke  of  Savoy  laid  at  his  feet  the  banners  and  other  trophies 
of  the  fight,  and,  kneeling  down,  would  have  kissed  Philip's  hand ;  but  the 
king,  raising  him  from  the  ground,  and  embracing  him  as  he  did  so,  said  that 
the  acknowledgments  were  due  from  himself  to  the  general  who  had  won  him 
such  a  victory.  At  the  same  time,  he  paid  a  well-deserved  compliment 
to  the  brilliant  part  wlu'ch  Egmout  and  his  brave  companions  had  borne  in 
the  battle." 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  dispose  of  the  prisoners,  whose  number 
embarrassed  the  conquerors.  Philip  dismissed  all  those  of  the  common  file, 
on  the  condition  that  they  should  not  bear  arms  for  six  months  against  the 
Spaniards.  The  condition  did  no  great  detriment  to  the  French  service,  as 
the  men,  on  their  return,  were  sent  to  garrison  some  distant  towns,  and  their 
places  in  the  army  filled  by  the  troops  whom  they  had  relieved.  The  cavaliers 
and  persons  of  condition  were  lodged  in  fortresses,  where  they  could  be 
securely  detained  till  the  amount  of  their  respective  ransoms  was  determined. 
These  ransoms  formed  an  imiK>rtant  part  of  the  booty  of  the  conqueror  ;  how 
important,  may  be  inferred  from  the  sum  ottered  by  the  constable  on  his  own 
account  and  that  of  his  son,— no  less,  it  is  said,  than  a  hundred  and  sixty-five 
thousand  gold  crowns.11  The  soldier  of  that  day,  when  the  penalty  was  loss 
of  fortune  as  well  as  of  freedom,  must  be  confessed  to  have  fought  on  harder 
conditions  than  at  present. 

A  council  of  war  was  next  called,  to  decide  on  further  operations.  When 
Charles  the  Fifth  received  tidings  of  the  victory  of  St.  Quentin,  the  first  thing 
he  asked,  as  we  are  told,  was  "  whether  Philip  were  at  Paris."'*  Had  Charles 

"  "Pues  yo  no  me  lialle  alii,  de  quo  me  "  He  Thou,  Histoire  univeiscUe,  torn.  HI. 

p«M  lu  que  V.  M.  iu>  purde  pensar,  no  puedo  p.  246. 

dar  relation  de  lo  qiir  paxo  MIHI  de  oyilas."  '•  It  if  Brantume  who  tellx  the  anecdote,  in 

Cartade  Felipe  2'"  ii  su  padre,  11  de  Agosto,  hi*  usual  nan-antic  way:  "  Encor,  tout  rdi- 

l  f>.~>7.  M.S.  gleux,  il-'iuy  Minct  qu'il  estoit.  il  ne  se  peut 

**  Thin  appear*  by  a  letter  of  the  major-  en  panier  que  quant  le  roy  Ron  fits  eut  gaigne 

domo  of  Charles,  l.ui*  (Juixado,  to  the  eecre-  la  Iwiuille  de  Saiiict-Quentin  de  demander 

t-iry,  Juan  Vazquez  de  Molina,  MS. :  ••  Siento  auwl  tost  que  le  courrier  luy  apportade«  nou- 

que  no  Be  puede  conurtar  J«-  que  su  hljo  no  se  velles,  i'il  avolt  blen  poursuivi  la  vlctoire,  et 

ballaae  en  ello."  junquea  aux  portex  de  Paris."    (Kuvren,  t"tn. 

*"  Cabrera.  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  IT.  cap.  7.  i.  p.  11.— Luis  Qulxada,  in  a  letter  written  at 


94  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

been  in  command,  he  would  doubtless  have  followed  up  the  blow  by  presenting 
himself  at  once  before  the  French  capital.  But  Philip  was  not  of  that  san- 
guine temper  which  overlooks,  or  at  least  overleaps,  the  obstacles  in  its  way. 
Charles  calculated  the  chances  of  success  ;  Philip,  those  of  failure.  Charles's 
character  opened  the  way  to  more  brilliant  achievements,  but  exposed  him 
also  to  severer  reverses.  His  enterprising  spirit  was  more  favourable  to 
building  up  a  great  empire ;  the  cautious  temper  of  Philip  was  better  fitted  to 
preserve  it.  Philip  came  in  the  right  time ;  and  his  circumspect  policy  was 
probably  better  suited  to  his  position,  as  well  as  to  his  character,  than  the 
bolder  policy  of  the  emperor. 

When  the  duke  of  Savoy  urged,  as  it  is  said,  the  expediency  of  profiting  by 
the  present  panic  to  march  at  once  on  the  French  capital,  Philip  looked  at 
the  dangers  of  such  a  step.  Several  strong  fortresses  or  the  enemy  would  be 
left  in  his  rear.  Rivers  must  be  crossed,  presenting  lines  of  defence  which 
could  easily  be  maintained  against  a  force  even  superior  to  his  own.  Paris 
was  covered  by  formidable  works,  and  forty  thousand  citizens  could  be  enrolled, 
at  the  shortest  notice,  for  its  protection.  It  was  not  wise  to  urge  the  foe  to 
extremity,  to  force  a  brave  and  loyal  people,  like  the  French,  to  rise  en  masse, 
as  they  would  do  for  the  defence  of  their  capital.  The  emperor,  his  father, 
had  once  invaded  France  with  a  powerful  army  and  laid  siege  to  Marseilles. 
The  issue  of  that  invasion  was  known  to  everybody.  "  The  Spaniards,"  it  was 
tauntingly  said,  "  had  come  into  the  country  feasting  on  turkeys ;  they  were 
glad  to  escape  from  it  feeding  on  roots  ! "  **  Philip  determined,  therefore,  to 
abide  by  his  original  plan  of  operations,  and  profit  by  the  late  success  of  his 
arms  to  press  the  siege  of  St.  Quentin  with  his  whole  force.  It  would  not  be 
easy  for  any  one,  at  this  distance  of  time,  to  pronounce  on  the  wisdom  of  his 
decision.  But  subsequent  events  tend  considerably  to  strengthen  our  con- 
fidence in  it. 

Preparations  were  now  made  to  push  the  siege  with  vigour.  Besides  the 
cannon  already  in  the  camp,  and  those  taken  in  the  battle,  a  good  number  of 
pieces  were  brought  from  Cambray  to  strengthen  the  battering-train  of  the 
besiegers.  The  river  was  crossed  ;  and  the  Faubourg  d'lle  was  carried  by  the 
duke,  after  a  stout  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  French,  who  burned  the 
houses  in  their  retreat.  The  Spanish  commander  availed  himself  of  his 
advantage  to  establish  batteries  close  to  the  town,  which  kept  up  an  incessant 
cannonade,  that  shook  the  old  walls  and  towers  to  their  foundation.  The 
miners  also  carried  on  their  operations,  and  galleries  were  excavated  almost  to 
the  centre  of  the  place. 

The  condition  of  the  besieged,  in  the  mean  time,  was  forlorn  in  the  extreme ; 
not  so  much  from  want  of  food,  though  their  supplies  were  scanty,  as  from 
excessive  toil  and  exposure.  Then  it  was  that  Coligni  displayed  all  the 
strength  of  his  character.  He  felt  the  importance  of  holding  out  as  long  as 
possible,  that  the  nation  might  have  time  to  breathe,  as  it  were,  and  recover 
from  the  late  disaster.  He  endeavoured  to  infuse  his  own  spirit  into  the 
hearts  of  his  soldiers,  toiling  with  the  meanest  of  them,  and  sharing  all  their 
privations.  He  cheered  the  desponding,  by  assuring  them  of  speedy  relief 
from  their  countrymen.  Some  he  complimented  for  their  bravery ;  others  he 
flattered  by  asking  their  advice.  He  talked  loudly  of  the  resources  at  his 

the  time  from  Yuste,  gives  a  version  of  the  Qnintin."     Carta  de  27  de  Setiembre,  1557, 

!-tory  which,  if  it  ha«  less  point,  is  probahly  MS. 

more  correct :  "  S.  Magrt.  esta  con  mucbo  cni-  "  "  Para  no  entrar  en  Francia  como  sit  pa- 
dado  r«r  saber  quecaminoarrfi  tornado  el  Rpy  dre  comiendo  pa  bos,  i  salir  comiendo  raizes." 
despues  de  acabada  aquella  empresa  de  San  Cabrera,  Filipe  Seguudo,  lib.  iv.  cap.  8. 


STORMING  OF  ST.  QUENTIN.  95 

command.  If  any  should  hear  him  so  much  as  hint  at  a  surrender,  he  gave 
them  leave  to  tie  him  hand  and  foot  and  throw  him  into  the  moat.  If  he 
should  hear  one  of  them  talk  of  it,  the  admiral  promised  to  do  as  much 
by  him.14 

The  due  de  Nevers,  who  had  established  himself,  with  the  wreck  of  the 
French  army  and  such  additional  levies  as  he  could  muster,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  St.  Quentin,  contrived  to  communicate  with  the  admiral.  On  one 
occasion  he  succeeded  in  throwing  a  reinforcement  of  a  hundred  and  twenty 
arquebusiers  into  the  town,  though  it  cost  him  thrice  that  number,  cut  to 
pieces  by  the  Spaniards  in  tne  attempt.  Still  the  number  of  the  garrison  was 
altogether  inadequate  to  the  duties  imposed  on  it.  With  scanty  refreshment, 
almost  without  repose,  watching  and  fighting  by  turns,  the  day  passed  in 
defending  the  breaches  which  the  night  was  not  long  enough  to  repair, — no 
frame  could  be  strong  enough  to  endure  it. 

Coligni  had,  fortunately,  the  services  of  a  skilful  engineer,  named  St.  Remy, 
who  aided  him  in  repairing  the  injuries  inflicted  on  the  works  by  the  artillery 
and  by  the  scarcely  less  destructive  mines  of  the  Spaniards.  In  the  want  of 
solid  masonry,  every  material  was  resorted  to  for  covering  up  the  breaches. 
Timbers  were  thrown  across  ;  and  boats  filled  with  earth,  laid  on  the  broken 
rampart,  afforded  a  good  bulwark  for  the  French  musketeers.  But  the  time 
was  come  when  neither  the  skill  of  the  engineer  nor  the  courage  of  the  garrison 
could  further  avail.  Eleven  practicable  breaches  had  been  opened,  and 
St.  Remy  assured  the  admiral  that  he  could  not  engage  to  hold  out  four-and- 
twenty  hours  longer.*1 

The  duke  of  Savoy  also  saw  that  the  time  had  come  to  bring  the  siege  to  a 
close  by  a  general  assault.  The  twenty-seventh  of  August  was  the  day 
assigned  for  it.  On  that  preceding  he  fired  three  mines,  which  shook  down 
some  fragments  of  the  wall,  but  did  less  execution  than  was  expected.  On 
the  morning  of  the  twenty-seventh  his  whole  force  was  under  arms.  The 
duke  divided  it  into  as  many  corps  as  there  were  breaches,  placing  these 
corps  under  his  best  and  bravest  officers.  He  proposed  to  direct  the  assault 
in  person. 

Coligni  made  his  preparations  also  with  consummate  coolness.  He  posted 
a  body  of  troops  at  each  of  the  breaches,  while  he  and  his  brother  Dandelot 
took  charge  of  the  two  which,  still  more  exposed  than  the  others,  might  be 
considered  as  the  post  of  danger.  He  had  the  satisfaction  to  find,  in  this  hour 
of  trial,  that  the  men,  as  well  as  their  officers,  seemed  to  be  animated  with  his 
own  heroic  spirit 

Before  proceeding  to  storm  the  place,  the  duke  of  Savoy  opened  a  brisk 
cannonade,  in  order  to  clear  away  the  barricades  of  timber,  and  other  tempo- 
rary defences,  which  had  been  thrown  across  the  breaches.  The  fire  continued 
for  several  hours,  and  it  was  not  till  afternoon  that  the  signal  was  given  for 
the  assault  The  troops  rushed  forward, — Spaniards,  Flemings,  English,  and 
Germans,— spurred  on  by  feelings  of  national  rivalry.  A  body  of  eight  thou- 
sand brave  Englishmen  nad  joined  the  standard  of  Philip  in  the  early  part  of 
the  campaign  ;  *"  and  they  now  eagerly  coveted  the  opportunity  for  distinction 
which  had  oeen  denied  tnem  at  tne  battle  of  St.  Quentin,  where  the  fortune 
of  the  day  was  chiefly  decided  by  cavalry.  But  no  troops  felt  so  keen  a 

"•  "SI  I'nn  m'oyolt  tenlr  qnelque  Ian  gage,  frm,  je  ne  lui  enfcroitpat  moitit."    Collent. 

qui  a|  procliusl  de  falre  compoxition,  JelegBup-  Mdnioirea,  ap.  Collection  unlveraelle  des  Me- 

pllol-  tun*  qii'llx  me  ji-tUment.  comme  un  pul-  uioirex,  tora.  xl.  p.  272. 

trou.  >!•  .Inns  le  !..*»'•  par  demnm  leu  miiraill<-s  :  '    Gulllard,  Rlvnllte,  torn.  v.  p.  253. 

que  s'll  y  avolt  qiulqu'uii  qui  in 'en  tint  pro-  "  Uuruct,  Reformation,  vol.  til.  p.  636. 


98  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

spur  to  their  achievements  as  the  Spaniards,  fighting  as  they  were  under  the 
eye  of  their  sovereign,  who  from  a  neighbouring  eminence  was  spectator  of  the 
combat. 

The  obstacles  were  not  formidable  in  the  path  of  the  assailants,  who  soon 
clambered  over  the  fragments  of  masonry  and  other  rubbish  which  lay  scat- 
tered below  the  ramparts,  and,  in  the  face  of  a  steady  fire  of  musketry,  pre- 
sented themselves  before  the  breaches.  The  brave  men  stationed  to  defend 
them  were  in  sufficient  strength  to  occupy  the  open  spaces ;  their  elevated 
position  gave  them  some  advantage  over  the  assailants,  and  they  stood  to 
their  posts  with  the  resolution  of  men  prepared  to  die  rather  than  surrender. 
A  fierce  conflict  now  ensued  along  the  whole  extent  of  the  ramparts ;  and  the 
French,  sustained  by  a  dauntless  spirit,  bore  themselves  as  stoutly  in  the  fight 
as  if  they  had  been  in  training  for  it  of  late,  instead  of  being  enfeebled  by 
scanty  subsistence  and  excessive  toil.  After  a  severe  struggle,  which  lasted 
nearly  an  hour,  the  Spaniards  were  driven  back  at  all  points.  Not  a  breach 
was  won  ;  and,  broken  and  dispirited,  the  assailants  were  compelled  to  retire 
on  their  former  position. 

After  this  mortifying  repulse,  the  duke  did  not  give  them  a  long  time  to 
breathe  before  he  again  renewed  the  assault.  This  time  he  directed  the  main 
attack  against  a  tower  where  the  resistance  had  been  weakest.  In  fact, 
Coligni  had  there  placed  the  troops  on  whom  he  had  least  reliance,  trusting 
to  the  greater  strength  of  the  works.  But  a  strong  heart  is  worth  all  the 
defences  in  the  world.  After  a  sharp  but  short  struggle,  the  assailants  suc- 
ceeded in  carrying  the  tower.  The  faint-hearted  troops  gave  way ;  and  the 
Spaniards,  throwing  themselves  on  the  rampart,  remained  masters  of  one  of 
the  breaches.  A  footing  once  gained,  the  assailants  poured  impetuously  into 
the  opening,  Spaniards,  Germans,  and  English  streaming  like  a  torrent  along 
the  ramparts,  and  attacking  the  defenders  on  their  flank  Coligni,  mean- 
while, and  his  brother  Dandelot,  had  rushed,  with  a  few  followers,  to  the  spot, 
in  the  hope,  if  possible,  to  arrest  the  impending  ruin.  But  they  were  badly 
supported.  Overwhelmed  by  numbers,  they  were  trodden  down,  disarmed, 
and  made  prisoners.  Still  the  garrison,  at  the  remaining  breaches,  continued 
to  make  a  desperate  stand.  But,  with  one  corps  pressing  them  on  flank  and 
another  in  front,  they  were  speedily  cut  to  pieces,  or  disabled  and  taken.  In 
half  an  hour  resistance  had  ceasea  along  the  ramparts.  The  town  was  in 
possession  of  the  Spaniards.37 

A  scene  of  riot  and  wild  uproar  followed,  such  as  made  the  late  conflict  seem 
tame  in  comparison.  The  victorious  troops  spread  over  the  town  in  quest  of 
plunder,  perpetrating  those  deeds  of  ruthless  violence  usual,  even  in  this 
enlightened  age,  in  a  city  taken  by  storm.  The  wretched  inhabitants  fled 
before  them  ;  the  old  and  the  helpless,  the  women  and  children,  taking  refuge 
in  garrets,  cellars,  and  any  other  corner  where  they  could  hide  themselves 
from  their  pursuers.  Nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  the  groans  of  the  wounded 
and  the  dying,  the  cries  of  women  and  cliildren, — "so  pitiful,"  says  one 

"  For  notices  of  the  taking  of  St.  Quentin,  a  letter  to  the  secretary  Vazquez  (dat^d  St. 

in  greater  or  lessdetail,  seeColigni,  Memoires,  Quentin,  August  27th),  speaking  of  the  hard 

ap.  Collection  universelle  des  Memoires,  torn.  fighting  which  took  place  in  the  assault,  par- 

xl. ;  Rabutin,  Memoircs,  ap.  Nouvelle  Collec-  ticularly  praises  the  gallantry  of  the  Knglish  : 

tion  des  Memoires,  torn.  vii.  p.  556,  et  seq. ;  "Esta  tarde  entre  tree  y  quatro  horas  se  ha 

De  Tlum,  Hietoire  universelle,  tom.  iii.  pp.  entrado  San  Quentin  a  pura  fuerQa  peleando 

164-170;  Campana,  Vita  del  Re  Filippo  Se-  muy  bien  los  de  dentro  y  los  de  fuera,  muy 

condo,  parte  ii.  lib.   9;  Cabrera,  Filipe  Se-  escogidamente  todoe,  y  por  estremo  los  in- 

gundo,  lib.  iv.  cap.  9 ;  Monpleinch-imp,  Vie  gleses."    MS. 
da  Due  de  Savoie,  p.  152. — Juan  de  Pinedo,  in 


STORMING  OF  ST.  QUENTIN.  97 

present,  "  that  they  would  grieve  any  Christian  heart,"  ** — mingled  with  the 
shouts  of  the  victors,  who,  intoxicated  with  liquor,  and  loaded  with  booty,  now 
madly  set  fire  to  several  of  the  buildings,  wnich  soon  added  the  dangers  of 
conflagration  to  the  other  horrors  of  the  scene.  In  a  short  time  the  town 
would  have  been  reduced  to  ashes,  and  the  place  which  Philip  had  won 
at  so  much  cost  would  have  been  lost  to  him  by  the  excesses  of  his  own 
soldiers. 

The  king  had  now  entered  the  city  in  person.  He  had  never  been  present 
at  the  storming  of  a  place,  and  the  dreadful  spectacle  which  he  witnessed 
touched  his  heart  Measures  were  instantly  taken  to  extinguish  the  flames, 
and  orders  were  issued  that  no  one,  under  pain  of  death,  should  offer  any  vio- 
lence to  the  old  and  infirm,  to  the  women  and  children,  to  the  ministers  of 
religion,  to  religious  edifices,  or,  above  all,  to  the  relics  of  the  blessed  St. 
Quentin.  Several  hundred  of  the  poor  people,  it  is  said,  presented  themselves 
before  Philip  and  claimed  his  protection,  fiy  his  command  they  were  con- 
ducted, under  a  strong  escort,  to  a  place  of  safety.*' 

It  was  not  possible,  however,  to  prevent  the  pillage  of  the  town.  It  would 
have  been  as  easy  to  snatch  the  carcass  from  the  tiger  that  was  rending  it 
The  pillage  of  a  place  taken  by  storm  was  regarded  as  the  perquisite  of  the 
soldier,  on  wlu'ch  he  counted  as  regularly  as  on  his  pay.  Those  who  distin- 
guished themselves  most  in  this  ruthless  work  were  the  German  mercenaries. 
Their  brutal  rapacity  filled  even  their  confederates  with  indignation.  The 
latter  seem  to  have  been  particularly  disgusted  with  the  unscrupulous  manner 
in  which  the  schwarzreiters  appropriated  not  only  their  own  share  of  the 
plunder,  but  that  of  both  Enghsn  and  Spaniards." 

Thus  fell  the  ancient  town  of  St.  Quentin,  after  a  defence  which  reflects 
equal  honour  on  the  courage  of  the  garrison  and  on  the  conduct  of  their 
commander.  With  its  fortifications  wretchedly  out  of  repair,  its  supply  of 
arms  altogether  inadequate,  the  number  of  its  garrison  at  no  time  exceeding 
a  thousand,  it  still  held  put  for  near  a  month  against  a  powerful  army, 
fighting  under  the  eyes  of  its  sovereign  and  led  by  one  of  the  best  captains  of 
Europe.41 

Philip,  having  taken  measures  to  restore  the  fortifications  of  St.  Quentin, 
p'aced  it  under  the  protection  of  a  Spanish  garrison,  and  marched  against  the 
neighbouring  town  of  Catelet.  It  was  a  strong  place,  but  its  defenders,  un- 
like their  valiant  countrymen  at  St.  Quentin,  after  a  brief  show  of  resistance, 
capitulated  on  the  sixth  of  September.  This  was  followed  by  the  surrender 
of  Ham,  once  renowned  through  Picardy  for  the  strength  of  its  defences. 

••  Letter  of  the  earl  of  Bedford  to  Sir  Wil-  ap.  Tytler,  Edward  VI.  and  Mary,  vol.  ii.  p. 

liani  Cecil  (dated  "from  our  cainp  beside  St.  493. 

Quentin,  the  3rd  of  Sept.,  1557  "),  ap.  Tytler,  "  Rabutin,  Memoires,  ap.  Nouvelle  Collec- 

Edward  VI.  and  Mary,  vol.  11.  p.  493.  tion  des  Memoires,  torn.  vii.  pp.  637-664. — 

**  According  to  Sepulveda  (De  Rebus  gestis  I)e  Thou,  Histolre  universelle,  torn.  ill.  pp. 
Phillppi  II.,  lib.  i.  cap.  30),  no  less  than  four  149-170.— Campana,  Vita  di  Filippo  Secondo, 
thousand  women.  It  is  not  very  probable  parte  II.  lib.  9. — The  ben  account  of  the  siege 
that  Coligni  wuuld  have  consented  to  cater  for  of  St.  Quentin  is  to  be  found  in  Coligni's  MI- 
BO  many  useless  mouths.  moires  (ap.  Collection  univereelle  des  Me- 

"•  "  The  SwarUrotters,  being  masters 'of  the  moires,  torn.  xl.  pp.  217-290),  written  by  him 

king's  whole  array,  used  such  force,  as  well  in  his  ttubsequenl  captivity,  when  the  events 

to  the  Spaniards,  Italians,  and  all  other  na-  were  fresh  in  bis  memory.    The  narrative  is 

tions,  as  until  us  that  there  woa  none  could  given  in  a  simple,  unpretending  manner,  that 

enjoy  nothing  but  themselves.    They  have  engages  our  confidence,  though   the  author 

now  showed  such  cruelty,  as  the  like  hath  enters  into  a  minuteness  of  detail  which  the 

not  been  seen  for  greediness :  the  town  by  general  historian  may  be  excused  fn>m  fol- 

them  was  set  a-ftrc.  and  a  great  pifce  of  it  lowing, 
burnt."   Letter  of  the  earl  of  li  <lf. ml  to  Cecil, 

II 


98  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

Philip  then  led  his  victorious  battalions  against  Noyon  and  Chaulny,  which 
last  town  was  sacked  by  the  soldiers.  The  French  were  filled  with  consterna- 
tion as  one  strong  place  after  another  on  the  frontier  fell  into  the  hands  of  an 
enemy  who  seemed  as  if  he  were  planting  his  foot  permanently  on  their  soil. 
That  Philip  did  not  profit  by  his  success  to  push  his  conquests  still  further,  is 
to  be  attributed  not  to  remissness  on  his  part,  but  to  the  conduct,  or  rather  the 
composition,  of  his  army,  made  up  as  it  was  of  troops  who,  selling  their  swords 
to  the  highest  bidder,  cared  little  for  the  banner  under  which  they  fought. 
Drawn  from  different  countries,  the  soldiers,  gathered  into  one  camp,  soon 
showed  all  their  national  rivalries  and  animosities.  The  English  quarrelled 
with  the  Germans,  and  neither  could  brook  the  insolent  oearing  of  the 
Spaniards.  The  Germans  complained  that  their  arrears  were  not  paid, — a 
complaint  probably  well  founded,  as.  notwithstanding  his  large  resources, 
Philip,  on  an  emergency,  found  the  difficulty  in  raising  funds  which  every 
prince  in  that  day  felt,  when  there  was  no  such  thing  known  as  a  well- 
arranged  system  of  taxation.  Tempted  by  the  superior  offers  of  Henry  the 
Second,  the  schwarzreiters  left  the  standard  of  Philip  in  great  numbers,  to 
join  that  of  his  rival. 

The  English  were  equally  discontented.  They  had  brought  from  home  the 
aversion  for  the  Spaniards  which  had  been  festering  there  since  the  queen's 
marriage.  The  sturdy  islanders  were  not  at  all  pleased  with  serving  under 
Philip.  They  were  fighting,  not  the  battles  of  England,  they  said,  but  of 
Spain.  Every  new  conquest  was  adding  to  the  power  of  a  monarch  far  too 
powerful  already.  They  had  done  enough,  and  insisted  on  being  allowed  to 
return  to  their  own  country.  The  king,  who  dreaded  nothing  so  much  as  a 
rupture  between  his  English  and  his  Spanish  subjects,  to  which  he  saw  the 
state  of  things  rapidly  tending,  was  fain  to  consent. 

By  this  departure  of  the  English  force,  and  the  secession  of  the  Germans, 
Philip's  strength  was  so  much  impaired  that  he  was  in  no  condition  to  make 
conquests,  hardly  to  keep  the  field.  The  season  was  now  far  advanced,  for  it 
was  the  end  of  October.  Having  therefore  garrisoned  the  conquered  places 
and  put  them  in  the  best  posture  of  defence,  he  removed  his  camp  to  Brussels, 
and  soon  after  put  his  army  into  winter-quarters." 

Thus  ended  the  first  campaign  of  Philip  the  Second, — the  first  and,  with 
the  exception  of  the  following,  the  only  campaign  in  which  he  was  personally 
present.  It  had  been  eminently  successful.  Besides  the  important  places 
which  he  had  gained  on  the  frontier  of  Picardy,  he  had  won  a  signal  victory 
in  the  field. 

But  the  campaign  was  not  so  memorable  for  military  results  as  in  a  moral 
view.  It  showed  the  nations  of  Europe  that  the  Spanish  sceptre  had  passed 
into  the  hands  of  a  prince  who  was  as  watchful  as  his  predecessor  had  been  over 
the  interests  of  the  state,  and  who,  if  he  were  not  so  actively  ambitious  as 
Charles  the  Fifth,  would  be  as  little  likely  to  brook  any  insult  from  his 
neighbours.  The  victory  of  St.  Quentin,  occurring  at  the  commencement  of  his 
reign,  reminded  men  of  the  victory  won  at  Pavia  by  his  father  at  a  similar 
period  of  his  career,  and,  like  that,  furnished  a  brilliant  augury  for  the  future. 
Philip,  little  given  to  any  visible  expression  of  his  feelings,  testified  his  joy  at 
the  success  of  his  arms  by  afterwards  raising  the  magnificent  pile  of  the 
Escorial,  in  honour  of  the  blessed  martyr  St.  Lawrence,  on  whose  day  the 
battle  was  fought,  and  to  whose  interposition  with  Heaven  he  attributed  the 
victory. 

"  De  Thou,  Histoire  unjvprsetlc,  torn.  iit.  iv.  cap.  13.  —  Sepnlvrda,  De  Rebus  gestig 
pp.  173-177.— Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  Philippi  II.,  lib.  i.  cap.  32 


EXTRAORDINARY  EFFORTS  OF  FRANCE.  99 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

Extraordinary  Efforts  of  France — Calais  surprised  by  Guise — The  French  invade  Flanders — 
Bloody  Battle  of  Gravelines— Negotiations  for  Peace — Mary's  Death — Accession  ol  Eliza- 
beth— Treaty  of  Cateau-Cambresis. 

1557-1559. 

THE  state  of  affairs  in  France  justified  Philip's  conclusions  in  respect  to  the 
loyalty  of  the  people.  No  sooner  did  Henry  the  Second  receive  tidings  of  the 
fatal  battle  of  St.  Quentin  than  he  despatched  couriers  in  all  directions, 
summoning  his  chivalry  to  gather  round  his  banner,  and  calling  on  the  towns 
for  aid  in  his  extremity.  Trie  nobles  and  cavaliers  promptly  responded  to  the 
call,  flocking  in  with  their  retainers  ;  and  not  only  the  large  towns,  but  those 
of  inferior  size,  cheerfully  submitted  to  be  heavily  taxed  for  the  public  service. 
Paris  nobly  set  the  example.  She  did  not  exhaust  her  zeal  in  processions  of 
the  clergy,  headed  by  the  queen  and  the  royal  family,  carrying  with  them 
relics  from  the  different  churches.  All  the  citizens  capable  of  bearing  arms 
enrolled  themselves  for  the  defence  of  the  capital ;  and  large  appropriations 
were  made  for  strengthening  Moiitmartre  and  for  defraying  the  expenses  of 
the  war.1 

With  these  and  other  resources  at  his  command,  Henry  was  speedily 
enabled  to  subsidize  a  large  body  of  Swiss  and  German  mercenaries.  The 
native  troops  serving  abroad  were  ordered  home.  The  veteran  Marshal 
Thermes  came,  with  a  large  'corps,  from  Tuscany,  and  the  duke  of  Guise 
returned,  with  the  remnant  of  his  battalions,  from  Rome.  This  popular 
commander  was  welcomed  with  enthusiasm.  The  nation  seemed  to  look  to 
him  as  to  the  deliverer  of  the  country.  His  late  campaign  in  the  kingdom  of 
Naples  was  celebrated  as  if  it  had  been  a  brilliant  career  of  victory.  He  was 
made  lieutenant-general  of  the  army,  and  the  oldest  captains  were  proud  to 
take  service  under  so  renowned  a  chief. 

The  government  was  not  slow  to  profit  by  the  extraordinary  resources  thus 
placed  at  its  disposal.  Though  in  the  depth  of  winter,  it  was  resolved  to 
undertake  some  enterprise  that  should  retrieve  the  disasters  of  the  late 
campaign  and  raise  the  drooping  spirits  of  the  nation.  The  object  proposal 
was  the  recovery  of  Calais,  that  strong  place,  which  for  more  than  two  cen- 
turies had  remained  in  possession  of  the  English. 

The  French  had  ever  been  keenly  sensible  to  the  indignity  of  an  enemy 
thus  planting  his  foot  immovably,  as  it  were,  on  their  soil.  They  had  looked 
to  the  recovery  of  Calais  with  the  same  feelings  with  which  the  Spanish  Mos- 
lems, when  driven  into  Africa,  looked  to  the  recovery  of  their  ancient  posses- 
sions in  Granada.  They  showed  how  constantly  this  was  in  their  thoughts  by 
a  common  saying  respecting  any  commander  whom  they  held  lightly,  that  lie 
was  "  not  a  man  to  drive  the  English  out  of  France.**  The  feelings  they 
entertained,  however,  were  rather  those  of  desire  than  of  expectation.  The 
place  was  so  strong,  so  well  garrisoned,  and  so  accessible  to  the  English,  that 

1  r>«  Thou,  HMotrc  unlverwlle,  torn.  ill.  designer  un  mauvala  general,  un  gnerrter 

pp.  163,  176.— Gamier,  Hiatoire  de  France.  UUIH  merits,  de  dire:  it  tie  rhmtrrn  pa*  let 

turn,  xxvll.  p.  377  t-t  vq.  Ant/Mi  de  la  France."  (iaillanl.  Kivallu-  de 

•  "C'etolt  un  proverbe  recn  en  France  pour  la  France  et  dc  1'Enpagn",  torn.  v.  p.  260. 


100  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

it  seemed  impregnable.  These  same  circumstances,  and  the  long  possession  of 
the  place,  had  inspired  the  English,  on  the  other  hand,  with  no  less  confidence, 
as  was  pretty  well  intimated  by  an  inscription  on  the  bronze  gates  of  the  town, 
— "  When  the  French  besiege  Calais,  lead  and  iron  will  swim  tike  cork."  *  This 
confidence,  as  it  often  happens,  proved  their  ruin. 

The  bishop  of  Acqs,  the  French  envoy  to  England,  on  returning  home,  a 
short  time  before  this,  had  passed  through  Calais,  and  gave  a  strange  report 
of  the  decay  of  the  works  and  the  small  number  of  the  garrison,  in  short,  of 
the  defenceless  condition  of  the  place.  Guise,  however,  as  cautious  as  he  was 
brave,  was  unwilling  to  undertake  so  hazardous  an  enterprise  without  more 
precise  information.  When  satisfied  of  the  fact,  he  entered  on  the  project  with 
his  characteristic  ardour.  The  plan  adopted  was  said  to  have  been  originally 
suggested  by  ColignL  In  order  to  deceive  the  enemy,  the  duke  sent  the 
largest  division  of  the  army,  under  Nevers,  in  the  direction  of  Luxemburg. 
He  then  marched  with  the  remainder  into  Picardy,  as  if  to  menace  one  of  the 
places  conquered  by  the  Spaniards.  Soon  afterwards  the  two  corps  united, 
and  Guise,  at  the  head  of  his  whole  force,  by  a  rapid  march,  presented  himself 
before  the  walls  of  Calais. 

The  town  was  defended  by  a  strong  citadel,  and  by  two  forts.  One  of  these, 
commanding  the  approach  by  water,  the  duke  stormed  and  captured  on  the 
second  of  January,  1558.  The  other,  which  overlooked  the  land,  he  carried 
on  the  following  day.  Possessed  of  these  two  forts,  he  felt  secure  from  any 
annoyance  by  the  enemy,  either  by  land  or  by  water.  He  then  turned  his 
powerful  battering-train  against  the  citadel,  keeping  up  a  furious  cannonade 
by  day  and  by  night.  On  the  fifth,  as  soon  as  a  breach  was  opened,  the 
victorious  troops  poured  in,  and,  overpowering  the  garrison,  planted  the 
French  colours  on  the  walls.  The  earl  of  Wentworth,  who  commanded  in 
Calais,  unable,  with  his  scanty  garrison,  to  maintain  the  place  now  that  the 
defences  were  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  capitulated  on  the  eighth.  The 
fall  of  Calais  was  succeeded  by  that  of  Guisnes  and  of  Hammes.  Thus,  in 
a  few  days,  th.?  English  were  stripped  of  every  rood  of  the  territory  which 
they  had  held  in  France  since  the  time  of  Edward  the  Third. 

The  fall  of  Calais  caused  the  deepest  sensation  on  both  sides  of  the  Channel. 
The  English,  astounded  by  the  event,  loudly  inveighed  against  the  treachery 
of  the  commander.  They  should  rather  have  blamed  the  treachery  of  their 
own  government,  which  had  so  grossly  neglected  to  provide  for  the  defence 
of  the  place.  Philip,  suspecting  the  designs  of  the  French,  had  intimated 
his  suspicions  to  the  English  government,  and  had  offered  to  strengthen  the 
garrison  by  a  reinforcement  of  his  own  troops.  But  his  allies,  perhaps  dis- 
trusting his  motives,  despised  his  counsel,  or  at  least  failed  to  profit  by  it.4 
After  the  place  was  taken,  he  made  another  offer  to  send  a  strong  force  to 
recover  it,  provided  the  English  would  support  him  with  a  sufficient  fleet. 
This  also,  perhaps  from  the  same  feeling  of  distrust,  though  on  the  plea  of 
inability  to  meet  the  expense,  was  declined,  and  the  opportunity  for  the 
recovery  of  Calais  was  lost  for  ever.4 

Yet,  in  truth,  it  was  no  great  loss  to  the  nation.  Like  more  than  one, 
probably,  of  the  colonial  possessions  of  England  at  the  present  day,  Calais 
cost  every  year  more  than  it  was  worth.  Its  chief  value  was  the  facility  it 
afforded  for  the  invasion  of  France.  Yet  such  a  facility  for  war  with  their 

1  "Anssl  les  Anglois  furent  si   glorleux  liege."    Bratitome,  CEuvres,  torn.  iii.  p.  203. 

(car  Us   le  sent  assez  de   leur    nature!)  de  *  Burnet,  History  of  the  Reformation,  vol. 

ructtre  sur  les  portes  de  la  ville  que,  lore  que  lii.  p.  646. 

le*  Francois  assiegeront  Calais,  Ton  verra  le  *  Ibid.,  p.  650. 
plumb  et  le  fer  nager  sur  1'eau  comme  le 


THE  FRENCH  INVADE  FLANDERS.        101 

neighbours,  always  too  popular  with  the  English  before  the  time  of  Philip  the 
Second,  was  of  questionable  value.  The  real  injury  from  the  loss  of  Calais 
was  the  wound  which  it  inflicted  on  the  national  honour. 

The  exultation  of  the  French  was  boundless.  It  could  not  well  have  been 
greater  if  the  duke  of  Guise  had  crossed  the  Channel  and  taken  London  itself. 
The  brilliant  and  rapid  manner  in  which  the  exploit  had  been  performed,  the 
gallantry  with  which  the  young  general  had  exposed  his  own  person  in  the 
assault,  the  generosity  with  which  he  had  divided  his  share  of  the  booty 
among  the  soldiers,  all  struck  the  lively  imagination  of  the  French ;  and  he 
became  more  than  ever  the  idol  of  the  people. 

Yet  during  the  remainder  of  the  campaign  his  arms  were  not  crowned  with 
such  distinguished  success.  In  May  he  marched  against  the  strong  town  of 
Thionville,  in  Luxemburg.  After  a  siege  of  twenty  days,  the  place  surren- 
dered. Having  taken  one  or  two  other  towns  of  less  importance,  the  French 
army  wasted  nearly  three  weeks  in  a  state  of  inaction,  unless,  indeed,  we  take 
into  account  the  activity  caused  by  intestine  troubles  of  the  army  itself.  It 
is  difficult  to  criticise  fairly  the  conduct  of  a  commander  of  that  age,  when  his 
levies  were  made  up  so  largely  of  foreign  mercenaries,  who  felt  so  little  attach- 
ment to  the  service  in  which  they  were  engaged  that  they  were  ready  to 
quarrel  with  it  on  the  slightest  occasion.  Among  these  the  German  schwarz- 
reiters  were  the  most  conspicuous,  manifesting  too  often  a  degree  of  insolence 
and  insubordination  that  made  them  hardly  less  dangerous  as  friends  than  as 
enemies.  The  importance  they  attached  to  their  own  services  made  them 
exorbitant  in  their  demands  of  pay.  When  this,  as  was  too  frequently  the 
case,  was  in  arrears,  they  took  the  matter  into  their  own  hands,  by  pillaging 
the  friendly  country  in  which  they  were  quartered,  or  by  breaking  out  into 
open  mutiny.  A  German  baron,  on  one  occasion,  went  so  far  as  to  level 
his  pistol  at  the  head  of  the  duke  of  Guise.  So  widely  did  this  mutinous  spirit 
extend  that  it  was  only  by  singular  coolness  and  address  that  this  popular 
chieftain  could  bring  these  adventurers  into  anything  like  subjection  to  his 
authority.  As  it  was,  the  loss  of  time  caused  by  these  troubles  was  attended 
with  most  disastrous  consequences. 

The  duke  had  left  Calais  garrisoned  by  a  strong  force,  under  Marshal  de 
Thermes.  He  had  since  ordered  that  veteran  to  take  command  of  a  body  of 
fifteen  hundred  horse  and  five  thousand  foot,  drawn  partly  from  the  garrison 
itself,  and  to  march  into  West  Flanders.  Guise  proposed  to  join  him  there 
with  his  own  troops,  when  they  would  furnisn  such  occupation  to  the 
Spaniards  as  would  effectually  prevent  them  from  a  second  invasion  of 
Picardy. 

The  plan  was  well  designed,  and  the  marshal  faithfully  executed  his  part  of 
it.  Taking  the  road  by  St.  Oiner,  he  entered  Flanders  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Dunkirk,  laid  siege  to  that  flourishing  town,  stormed  and  gave  it  up  to 
pillage.  He  then  penetrated  as  far  as  Nieuport,  when  the  fatigue  and  the 
great  heat  of  the  weather  brought  on  an  attack  of  gout,  which  entirely  dis- 
abled him.  The  officer  on  whom  the  command  devolved  allowed  the  men  to 
spread  themselves  over  the  country,  where  they  perpetrated  such  acts  of  rapa- 
city and  violence  as  were  not  sanctioned  even  by  the  code  of  that  unscrupu- 
lous age.  The  wretched  inhabitants,  driven  from  their  homes,  called  loudly 
on  Count  K.-iintiit.  their  governor,  to  protect  them.  The  duke  of  Savoy  lay 
with  his  army,  at  this  time,  at  Manbeuge,  in  the  province  of  Namur  ;  but  ho 
sent  orders  to  Egmont  to  muster  such  forces  as  he  could  raise  in  the  neigh- 
bouring country,  and  to  intercept  the  retreat  of  the  French,  until  the  duke 
could  come  to  his  support  and  ciiastise  the  enemy. 


102  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

Egmont,  indignant  at  the  wrongs  of  his  countrymen,  and  burning  with  the 
desire  of  revenge,  showed  the  greatest  alacrity  in  obeying  these  orders.  Volun- 
teers came  in  from  all  sides,  and  he  soon  found  himself  at  the  head  of  an  army 
consisting  of  ten  or  twelve  thousand  foot  and  two  thousand  horse.  With  these 
he  crossed  the  borders  at  once,  and  sent  forward  a  detachment  to  occupy  the 
great  road  by  which  Thermes  had  penetrated  into  Flanders. 

The  French  commander,  advised  too  late  of  these  movements,  saw  that  it 
was  necessary  to  abandon  at  once  his  present  quarters,  and  secure,  if  possible, 
his  retreat.  Guise  was  at  a  distance,  occupied  with  the  troubles  of  his  own 
camp.  The  Flemings  had  possession  of  the  route  by  which  the  marshal  had 
entered  the  country.  One  other  lay  open  to  him,  along  the  sea-shore,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Gravelines,  where  the  Aa  pours  its  waters  into  the  ocean. 
By  taking  advantage  of  the  ebb,  the  river  might  be  forded,  and  a  direct  road 
to  Calais  would  be  presented. 

Thermes  saw  tliat  no  time  was  to  be  lost.  He  caused  himself  to  be  re- 
moved from  his  sick-bed  to  a  litter,  and  began  his  retreat  at  once.  On  leaving 
Dunkirk,  he  fired  the  town,  where  the  houses  were  all  that  remained  to  the 
wretched  inhabitants  of  their  property.  His  march  was  impeded  by  his 
artillery,  by  his  baggage,  and  especially  by  the  booty  which  he  was  conveying 
back  from  the  plundered  provinces.  He  however  succeeded  in  crossing  the 
Aa  at  low  water,  and  gained  the  sands  on  the  opposite  side.  But  the  enemy 
was  there  before  him.8 

Egmont,  on  getting  tidings  of  the  marshal's  movements,  had  crossed  the 
river  higher  up,  where  the  stream  was  narrower.  Disencumbering  himself  of 
artillery,  and  even  of  baggage,  in  order  to  move  the  lighter,  he  made  a  rapid 
march  to  the  sea-side,  and  reached  it  in  time  to  intercept  the  enemy.  There 
was  no  choice  left  for  Thermes  but  to  fight  his  way  through  the  Spaniards  or 
surrender. 

Ill  as  he  was,  the  marshal  mounted  his  horse  and  addressed  a  few  words  to 
his  troops.  Pointing  in  the  direction  of  the  blazing  ruins  of  Dunkirk,  he  told 
them  that  they  could  not  return  there.  Then  turning  to  wards  Calais,  "  There 
is  your  home,  he  said,  "  and  you  must  beat  the  enemy  before  you  can  gain  it." 
He  determined,  however,  not  to  begin  the  action,  but  to  secure  his  position  as 
strongly  as  he  could,  and  await  the  assault  of  the  Spaniards. 

He  placed  his  infantry  in  the  centre,  and  flanked  it  on  either  side  by  his 
cavalry.  In  the  front  he  established  his  artillery,  consisting  of  six  or  seven 
falconets, — field-pieces  of  smaller  size.  He  threw  a  considerable  body  of 
Gascon  pikemen  in  the  rear,  to  act  as  a  reserve  wherever  their  presence  should 
be  required.  The  river  Aa,  which  flowed  behind  his  troops,  formed  also  a 
good  protection  in  that  quarter.  His  left  wing  he  covered  by  a  barricade 
made  of  the  baggage  and  artillery  wagons.  His  right,  which  rested  on  the 
ocean,  seemed  secure  from  any  annoyance  on  that  side.* 

Count  Egmont,  seeing  the  French  thus  preparing  to  give  battle,  quickly 

•  De  Thou,  Histoire  univereelle,  torn.  lii.  Hb.  10.— Cabrera,  Filipe  Segnndo,  lib.  iv.  cap. 

p.  238. — Gamier,  Histoire  de  France,  torn.  21.—  Herrera,  Historia  general,  lib.  v.  cap.  5. 

xxvii.  p.  512. — Rabutin,  ap.  Nouvelle  Col-  — Monpleincbamp,  Vie   du  Due  de   Savoie, 

lection  des  Memoires,  torn.  vii.  p.  598.— Cam-  p.  154. 
pana,  Vita  del  Re  Fllippo  Secondo,  parte  ii. 


*  [At  the  present  day  a  general  would  rateness  of  the  position  may  partly  account 
scarcely  consider  it  an  advantage  in  battle  to  for  the  vigorous  efforts  of  the  French  at  the 
have  the  s  -a  on  his  flank  and  a  river  in  his  beginning  of  the  action ;  but  it  explains, 
rear.  Such  is,  however,  the  view  taken  in  much  better  than  the  tire  from  the  Enplish 
this  instance  by  contemporary  writers  and  fleet,  their  subsequent  panic  and  the  corn- 
adopted  by  modern  historians.  The  despe-  pleteness  of  their  defeat.— ED.] 


BATTLE  OF  GRAVELINES.  103 

made  his  own  dispositions.  He  formed  his  cavalry  into  three  divisions.  The 
centre  he  proposed  to  lead  in  person.  It  was  made  up  chiefly  of  the  heavy 
men-at-arms  and  some  Flemish  horse.  On  the  right  he  placed  his  light 
cavalry,  and  on  the  left  wing  rode  the  Spanish.  His  infantry  he  drew  up  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  support  the  several  divisions  of  horse.  Having  completed 
his  arrangements,  he  gave  orders  to  the  centre  and  the  right  wing  to  charge, 
and  rode  at  full  gallop  against  the  enemy. 

Though  somewhat  annoyed  by  the  heavy  guns  in  their  advance,  the  batta- 
lions came  on  in  good  order,  and  fell  with  such  fury  on  the  French  left  and 
centre  that  horse  and  foot  were  borne  down  by  the  violence  of  the  shock. 
But  the  French  gentlemen  who  formed  the  cavalry  were  of  the  same  high 
mettle  as  those  who  fought  at  St.  Quentin.  Though  borne  down  for  a 
moment,  they  were  not  overpowered ;  and,  after  a  desperate  struggle,  they 
succeeded  in'rallying  and  in  driving  back  the  assailants.  Egmont  returned 
to  the  charge,  but  was  forced  back  with  greater  loss  than  before.  The 
French,  following  up  their  advantage,  compelled  the  assailants  to  retreat  on 
their  own  lines.  Trie  guns,  at  the  same  time,  opening  on  the  exposed  flank 
of  the  retreating  troopers,  did  them  considerable  mischief.  Egmont's  horse 
was  killed  under  him,  and  he  had  nearly  been  run  over  by  his  own  followers. 
In  the  mean  while,  the  Gascon  reserve,  armed  with  their  long  spears,  pushed 
on  to  the  support  of  the  cavalry,  and  filled  the  air  with  their  shouts  of 
"Victory!"' 

The  field  seemed  to  be  already  lost ;  when  the  left  wing  of  Spanish  horse, 
which  had  not  yet  come  into  action,  seeing  the  disorderly  state  of  the  French, 
as  they  were  pressing  on,  charged  them  briskly  on  the  flank.  This  had  the 
effect  to  check  the  tide  of  pursuit  and  give  the  fugitives  time  to  rally.  Egmont, 
meanwhile,  was  mounted  on  a  fresh  horse,  and,  throwing  himself  into  the 
midst  of  his  followers,  endeavoured  to  reanimate  their  courage  and  reform 
their  disordered  ranks.  Then,  cheering  them  on  by  his  voice  and  example,  he 
cried  out,  "  We  are  conquerors  !  Those  who  love  glory  and  their  fatherland, 
follow  me  ! "  *  and  spurred  furiously  against  the  enemy. 

The  French,  hard  pressed  both  on  front  and  on  flank,  fell  back  in  their 
turn,  and  continued  to  retreat  till  they  had  gained  their  former  position.  At 
the  same  time,  the  lanzknechts  in  Egmont's  service  marched  up,  in  defiance 
of  the  fire  of  the  artillery,  and  got  possession  of  the  guns,  running  the  men  who 
had  charge  of  them  through  with  their  lances.9  The  fight  now  became 
general ;  and,  as  the  combatants  were  brought  into  close  quarters,  they  fought 
as  men  fight  where  numbers  are  nearly  balanced  and  each  one  seems  to  feel 
that  his  own  arm  may  turn  the  scale  of  victory.  The  result  was  brought 
about  by  an  event  which  neither  party  could  control,  and  neither  have  fore- 
Been. 

An  English  squadron  of  ten  or  twelve  vessels  lay  at  some  distance,  but 
out  of  sight  of  tne  combatants.  Attracted  by  the  noise  of  the  firing,  its 
commander  drew  near  the  scene  of  action,  and,  ranging  along  shore,  opened 
his  fire  on  the  right  wing  of  the  French,  nearest  the  sea.10  The  shot, 
probably,  from  the  distance  of  the  ships,  dia  no  great  execution,  and  is  even 
said  to  have  killed  some  of  the  Spaniards.  But  it  spread  a  panic  among 
the  French,  as  they  found  themselves  assailed  by  a  new  enemy,  who  seemed 

'  Cabrera,  Flllpe  Segundo,  lib.  Iv.  cap.  21.  •  Cabrera,  Flllpe  Semindo.  lib.  iv.  cap.  21. 

•  "Nous  Minnie*   valiiqiieurx ;   que  CPUX  '•  I)e  Thou,  fmtolre  iiniversrlle,  lorn.  III. 

qiilalmentlaploireet  lenr  p«trie  me  nuivrnt."  p.  240. — Gamier,   Hisloire  de   France,   loin. 

Ho  Thou,  lllslolre  unlverstlle,  lom.  ill.  p.  xxvll.  p.  616. 
240. 


104  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

to  have  risen  from  the  depths  of  the  ocean.  In  their  eagerness  to  extricate 
themselves  from  the  fire,  the  cavalry  on  the  right  threw  themselves  on  the 
centre,  trampling  down  their  own  comrades,  until  all  discipline  was  lost,  and 
horse  and  foot  became  mingled  together  in  wild  disorder.  Egmont  profited  by 
the  opportunity  to  renew  his  charge  ;  and  at  length,  completely  broken  and 
dispirited,  the  enemy  gave  way  in  all  directions.  The  stout  body  of  Gascons 
who  formed  the  reserve  alone  held  their  ground  for  a  time,  until,  vigorously 
charged  by  the  phalanx  of  Spanish  spearmen,  they  broke,  and  were  scattered 
like  the  rest. 

The  rout  was  now  general,  and  the  victorious  cavalry  rode  over  the  field, 
trampling  and  cutting  down  the  fugitives  on  all  sides.  Many  who  did  not  fall 
under  their  swords  perished  in  the  waters  of  the  Aa,  now  swollen  by  the  rising 
tide.  Others  were  drowned  in  the  ocean.  No  less  than  fifteen  hundred  of 
those  who  escaped  from  the  field  are  said  to  have  been  killed  by  the  peasantry, 
who  occupied  the  passes,  and  thus  took  bloody  revenge  for  the  injuries  in- 
flicted on  their  country.11  Two  thousand  French  are  stated  to  have  fallen  on 
the  field,  and  not  more  than  five  hundred  Spaniards,  or  rather  Flemings,  who 
composed  the  bulk  of  the  army.  The  loss  fell  most  severely  on  the  French 
cavalry ;  severely  indeed,  if,  according  to  some  accounts,  not  very  credible, 
they  were  cut  to  pieces  almost  to  a  man  lt  The  number  of  prisoners  was 
three  thousand.  Among  them  was  Marshal  de  Thermes  himself,  who  had 
been  disabled  by  a  wound  in  the  head.  All  the  baggage,  the  ammunition, 
and  the  rich  spoil  gleaned  by  the  foray  into  Flanders,  became  the  prize  of  the 
victors.  Although  not  so  important  for  the  amount  of  forces  engaged,  the 
victory  of  Gravehnes  was  as  complete  as  that  of  St.  Quentin.1* 

Yet  the  French,  who  had  a  powerful  army  on  foot,  were  in  better  condition 
to  meet  their  reverses  than  on  that  day.  The  duke  of  Guise,  on  receiving  the 
tidings,  instantly  marched  with  his  whole  force  and  posted  himself  strongly 
behind  the  Somme,  in  order  to  cover  Picardy  from  invasion.  The  duke  of 
Savoy,  uniting  his  forces  with  those  of  Count  Egmont,  took  up  a  position 
along  the  line  of  the  Authie  and  made  demonstrations  of  laying  siege  to 
Dourlens.  The  French  and  Spanish  monarchs  both  took  the  held.  So  well 
appointed  and  large  a  force  as  that  led  by  Henry  had  not  been  seen  in  France 
for  many  a  year :  yet  that  monarch  might  justly  be  mortified  by  the  reflection 
that  the  greater  part  of  this  force  was  made  up  of  foreign  mercenaries, 
amounting,  it  is  said,  to  forty  thousand.  Philip  was  in  equal  strength,  and 
the  length  of  the  war  had  enabled  him  to  assemble  his  best  captains  around 
him.  Among  them  was  Alva,  whose  cautious  counsels  might  serve  to  temper 
the  bolder  enterprise  of  the  duke  of  Savoy. 

11  Cabrera,  Fillpe  Segnndo,  lib.  iv.  cap.  21.  pagne,  torn.  ix.  p.  396. — Monpleinchamp,  Vie 

— De  Thou,  Histoire  univereelle,  torn.  iii.  p.  du   I'uc  de  Savoie,  p.   155.— I  know  of  no 

241.  action  of  which  the  accounts  are  so  perfectly 

"  "  Ma  della  caualleria  ninno  fu  quasi,  oh'  irreconcilable  In  their  details  as  those  of  the 

6  non  morisse  combattendo,  6  non  restafse  battle  of  Gravelines.      Authorities  are  not. 

prigione,  non   poteodosi  saluar  fuggendo  in  even  agreed  »s  to  whether  it  was  an  English 

qut  i  luoghi  paludoei,  malageuoli."   Campana,  fleet  that  fired  on  the  French  troops.     One 

Vita  del  Re  Filippo  Secondo,  parte  ii.  lib.  10.  writer  speaks  of  it  as  a  Spanish  squadron 

13  For  the  accounts  of  this  hattl<\  see  Cam-  from  Guipuscoa.     Another  says  the  marines 

pana,  Vita  del  Re  Filippo  Secondo,  parte  ii.  landed,  and  engaged  the  enemy  on  shore.     It 

lib.    10. — Cabrera,   Filipe  Segundo,   lib.  iv.  is  no  easy  matter  to  extract  a  probability 

cap.  21. — De  Thou,  Histoire  universelle,  torn.  from  many  improbabilities.      There  is  one 

iii.  pp.  239-241. — Gamier,  Histoire  de  France,  fact,  however,  and  that  the  most  important 

torn,   xxvii.   p.  513,  et   seq. — Rabutin,    ap.  one,  in  «  hich  all  agree, — that  Count  Eprnont 

Nonvelle  Collection  des  Memoires,  torn.  vii.  won  a  decisive  victory  over  the  French  at 

p.   598.  —  Herrera,   Historia  general,  lib.   v.  Gravelines. 
cap.    5.— Ferreras,    Histoire   generate  d'Es- 


NEGOTIATIONS  FOR  PEACE.  105 

A  level  ground,  four  leagues  in  breadth,  lay  between  the  armies.  Skirmishes 
took  place  occasionally  between  the  light  troops  on  either  side,  and  a  general 
engagement  might  be  brought  on  at  any  moment.  All  eyes  were  turned  to 
the  battle-field,  where  the  two  greatest  princes  of  Europe  might  so  soon  con- 
tend for  mastery  with  each  other.  Had  the  fathers  of  these  princes,  Charles 
the  Fifth  and  Francis  the  First,  been  in  the  field,  such  very  probably  would 
have  been  the  issue.  But  Philip  was  not  disposed  to  risk  the  certain  advan- 
tages he  had  already  gained  by  a  final  appeal  to  arms.  And  Henry  was  still 
less  inclined  to  peril  all — his  capital,  perhaps  his  crown — on  the  hazard  of  a 
s  ngle  cast. 

There  were  many  circumstances  which  tended  to  make  both  monarchs 
prefer  a  more  peaceful  arbitrament  of  their  quarrel  and  to  disgust  them  with 
the  war.  Among  these  was  the  ruinous  state  of  their  finances.'4  When  Euy 
Gomez  de  Silva,  as  has  been  already  stated,  was  sent  to  Spain  by  Philip,  he 
was  ordered  to  avail  himself  of  every  expedient  that  could  be  devised  to  raise 
money.  Offices  were  put  up  for  sale  to  the  highest  bidder.  The  public 
revenues  were  mortgaged  Large  sums  were  obtained  from  merchants  at 
exorbitant  rates  of  interest.  Forced  loans  were  exacted  from  individuals, 
especially  from  such  as  were  known  to  have  received  large  returns  by  the  late 
arrivals  from  the  New  World.  Three  hundred  thousand  ducats  were  raised 
on  the  security  of  the  coming  fair  at  Villalon.  The  Regent  Joanna  was 
persuaded  to  sell  her  yearly  pension,  assigned  her  on  the  alcavala,  for  a  down- 
right sum,  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  the  state.  Goods  were  obtained  from  the 
king  of  Portugal,  in  order  to  be  sent  to  Flanders  for  the  profit  to  be  raised  on 
the  sale.1*  Such  were  the  wretched  devices  by  which  Philip,  who  inherited 
this  policy  of  temporizing  expedients  from  his  father,  endeavoured  to  re- 
plenish his  exhausted  treasury.  Besides  the  sums  drawn  from  Castile,  the 
king  obtained  also  no  less  than  a  million  and  a  half  of  ducats  as  an  extraor- 
dinary grant  from  the  states  of  the  Netherlands."  Yet  these  sums,  large  as 
they  were,  were  soon  absorbed  by  the  expense  of  keeping  armies  on  foot  in 
France  and  in  Italy.  Philip's  correspondence  with  his  ministers  teems  with 
representations  of  the  low  state  of  nis  finances,  of  the  arrears  due  to  his 
troops,  and  the  necessity  of  immediate  supplies  to  save  him  from  bankruptcy. 
The  prospects  the  ministers  hold  out  to  nirn  in  return  are  anything  but 
encouraging.17 

Another  circumstance  which  made  both  princes  desire  the  termination  of 
the  war  was  the  disturbed  state  of  their  own  kingdoms.  The  Protestant 

14  There  Is  an  Interesting  tetter  of  Philip's  &  la  Prinresa,  26  de  Diciembre.  1557,  MS. 

sister,  the  Regent  Joanna,  to  her  father,  the  "  Relatione  <li  Giovanni    Mlcheli,   MS.— 

emperor,  then  in  the  monastery  of  Yu8te.    It  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segumlo,  lib.  iv.  cap.  2,  4. — 

was  written  nearly  a  year  before  this  period  Campana,  Vita  de  FiUppo  Seoondo,  pane  II. 

of  our  history.    Joanna  gives  many  good  rea-  lib.  11. 

son*,  especially  the  disorders  of  his  finances,  '*  Relatione  di  Giovanni  Mlcheli,  MS. 
which  made  It  expedient  for  Philip  to  profit  ' '  "  Yo  os  dlgo  que  yo  estoy  de  todo  punto 
by  bis  successful  campaign  to  conclude  *  imposibilitado  it  sostener  la  guerra.  .  .  . 
peace  with  France.  1'lutte  views,  though  Estos  terminos  me  parecen  tan  aprestados 
tli'-y  did  not  meet  the  approval  of  Charles,  que  so  pena  de  perderme  no  pucdo  dejar  de 
were  the  same  which  now  presented  tin -in-  concertarme."  letter  of  Philip  to  the  Bishop 
selves  with  such  force  to  both  Philip  and  bis  of  Arras  (February  nth,  1559),  ap.  Paplera 
ministers.  The  capture  of  Calais,  soon  after  d'£tat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  v.  p.  454,  et  alibi, 
the  date  of  Joanna's  letter,  and  the  great  pro-  —Philip  told  the  Venetian  minister  he  was 
parations  made  by  Henry,  threw  a  weight  In  such  strait*  that,  if  the  French  king  had 
Into  the  enemy's  scale  which  gave  new  heait  not  made  advances  towards  an  accommoda- 
te) the  French  to  prolong  the  context,  until  it  tlon.  he  should  have  been  obliged  to  do  so 
ended  with  the  defeat  at  Uravellnes.— Carta  himself.  Campana,  Vita  di  Fllippo  Secomlo, 
de  la  Priucpsa  Juana  al  Kmprr.ulor,  14  do  pnrte  it.  lib.  11. 
Diciembre,  1557,  MS.— Otrta  del  Knipcrador 


106  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

heresy  had  already  begun  to  rear  its  formidable  crest  in  the  Netherlands ;  and 
the  Huguenots  were  beginning  to  claim  the  notice  of  the  French  government. 
Henry  the  Second,  who  was  penetrated,  ars  much  as  Philip  himself,  with  the 
spirit  of  the  Inquisition,  longed  for  leisure  to  crush  the  heretical  doctrines  in 
the  bud.  In  this  pious  purpose  he  was  encouraged  by  Paul  the  Fourth,  who, 
now  that  he  was  himself  restrained  from  levying  war  against  his  neighbours, 
seemed  resolved  that  no  one  else  should  claim  that  indulgence.  He  sent 
legates  to  both  Henry  and  Philip,  conjuring  them,  instead  of  warring  with 
each  other,  to  turn  their  arms  against  the  heretics  in  their  dominions,  who 
were  sapping  the  foundations  of  the  Church.1* 

The  pacific  disposition  of  the  two  monarchs  was,  moreover,  fostered  by  the 
French  prisoners,  and  especially  by  Montmorency,  whose  authority  had  been 
such  at  court  that  Charles  the  Fifth  declared  "  his  capture  was  more  important 
than  would  have  been  that  of  the  king  himself."  "  The  old  constable  was 
most  anxious  to  return  to  his  own  country,  where  he  saw  with  uneasiness  the 
ascendency  which  his  absence  and  the  prolongation  of  the  war  were  giving 
to  his  rival,  Guise,  in  the  royal  counsels.  Through  him  negotiations  were 
opened  with  the  French  court,  until,  Henry  the  Second  thinking,  with  good 
reason,  that  these  negotiations  would  be  better  conducted  by  a  regular  congress 
than  by  prisoners  in  the  custody  of  his  enemies,  commissioners  were  appointed 
on  both  sides,  to  arrange  the  terms  of  accommodation.20  Montmorency  and  his 
fellow-captive,  Marshal  St.-Andre,  were  included  in  the  commission.  But  the 
person  of  most  importance  in  it,  on  the  part  of  France,  was  the  cardinal  of 
Lorraine,  brother  of  the  duke  of  Guise,  a  man  of  a  subtle,  intriguing  temper, 
and  one  who,  like  the  rest  of  his  family,  notwithstanding  his  pacific  demon- 
strations, may  be  said  to  have  represented  the  war  party  in  France.*1 

On  the  part  of  Spain  the  agents  selected  were  the  men  most  conspicuous  for 
talent  and  authority  in  the  kingdom  ;  the  names  of  some  of  whom,  whether 
for  good  or  for  evil  report,  remain  immortal  on  the  page  of  history.  Among 
these  were  the  duke  of  Alva  and  his  great  antagonist, — as  he  became  after- 
wards in  the  Netherlands, — William  of  Orange.  IJut  the  principal  person  in 
the  commission,  the  man  who  in  fact  directed  it,  was  Anthony  Perrenot,  bishop 
of  Arras,  better  known  by  his  later  title  of  Cardinal  Granvelle.  He  was  son 
of  the  celebrated  chancellor  of  that  name  under  Charles  the  Fifth,  by  whom 
he  was  early  trained,  not  so  much  to  the  duties  of  the  ecclesiastical  profession 
as  of  public  life.  He  profited  so  well  by  the  instruction  that,  in  the  emperor's 
time,  he  succeeded  his  father  in  the  royal  confidence,  and  surpassed  him  in  his 
talent  for  affairs.  His  accommodating  temper  combined  with  his  zeal  for  the 
interests  of  Philip  to  recommend  Granvelle  to  the  favour  of  that  monarch  ; 
and  his  insinuating  address  and  knowledge  of  character  well  qualified  him  for 

'"  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  iv.  cap.  16.  passed  to  the  French  camp.     See    Papiers 

— Ferreras,  Hiatoire  generate  d'Espagne,  torn.  d'fitat  de  Granvelle.  torn.  v.  p.  178. 

vii.  p.  397.  "  Some  historians,  among  them  Sismondi, 

'•  "Habl6  que  era  de  tener  en  mas    la  seem  to  have  given  more  credit  to  the  pro- 

pressa  del  Condestable,  que  si  fuera  la  misma  fessions  of  the  politic  Frenchman  than  they 

persona  del  Key,  porque  faltando  el,  falta  el  deserve  (Histoire  des   Franvais,  torn,  xviii. 

govierno  jeneral  t«k>."     Carta  del  Mayor-  p.  73).    Granvrlle,  who  understood  the  cba- 

domo  Don  Luis  Mendez  Quixada  al  Secre-  racter  of  his  antagonist  better,  was  not  so 

tario  Juan  Vazquez  de  Molina,  MS.  easily  duped.    A   memorandum  among  his 

*°  The  French  government  had  good  rea-  papers  thus   notices    the    French  cardinal  : 

sons  for  its  distrust.     It  appears  from  the  "Tout*  la  demonstration  que  faieoit  ledict 

correspondence  of  Granvelle  that  that  minister  cardinal  de  Lorraine  de  desirer  paix,  estoit 

employed  a  respectable  agent  to  take  charge  chose  faincte  a   la  franc/  ise  et  pour    nous 

of  the  letters  of  St.-Andre,  and  probably  of  abuser."    Papiers  U'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn, 

the  other  prisoners,  and  that  these   letters  v  p.  168. 
were    inspected    by  Granvelle    before   they 


NEGOTIATIONS  FOR  PEACE.  107 

conducting  a  negotiation  where  there  were  so  many  jarring  feelings  to  be 
brought  into  concord,  so  many  hostile  and  perplexing  interests  to  be  recon- 
ciled. 

As  a  suspension  of  hostilities  was  agreed  on  during  the  continuance  of  the 
negotiations,  it  was  decided  to  remove  the  armies  from  the  neighbourhood  of 
each  other,  where  a  single  spark  might  at  any  time  lead  to  a  general  explosion. 
A  still  stronger  earnest  was  given  of  their  pacific  intentions  by  both  the 
monarchs  disbanding  part  of  their  foreign  mercenaries,  whose  services  were 
purchased  at  a  ruinous  cost,  that  made  one  of  the  great  evils  of  the  war. 

The  congress  met  on  the  fifteenth  of  October,  1558,  at  the  abbey  of  Cer- 
camps,  near  Cambray.  Between  parties  so  well  disposed  it  might  be  thought 
that  some  general  terms  of  accommodation  would  soon  be  settled.  But  the  war, 
which  ran  back  pretty  far  into  Charles  the  Fifth's  time,  had  continued  so 
long  that  many  territories  had  changed  masters'  during  the  contest,  and  it 
was  not  easy  to  adjust  the  respective  claims  to  them.  The  duke  of  Savoy's 
dominions,  ror  example,  had  passed  into  the  hands  of  Henry  the  Second,  who 
moreover  asserted  an  hereditary  right  to  them  through  his  grandmother. 
Yet  it  was  not  possible  for  Philip  to  abandon  his  ally,  the  man  whom  he  had 
placed  at  the  head  of  his  armies.  But  the  greatest  obstacle  was  Calais.  "  If 
we  return  without  the  recovery  of  Calais,"  said  the  English  envoys,  who  also 
took  part  in  this  congress,  "we  shall  be  stoned  to  death  by  the  people."*1 
Philip  supported  the  claim  of  England ;  and  yet  it  was  evident  that  France 
would  never  relinquish  a  post  so  important  to  herself,  which  after  so  many  years 
of  hope  deferred  had  at  last  come  again  into  her  possession.  While  engaged 
in  the  almost  hopeless  task  of  adjusting  these  differences,  an  event  occurred 
which  suspended  the  negotiations  for  a  time  and  exercised  an  important 
influence  on  the  affairs  of  Europe.  This  was  the  death  of  one  of  the  parties 
to  the  war.  Queen  Mary  of  England. 

Mary's  health  had  been  fast  declining  of  late,  under  the  pressure  of  both 
mental  and  bodily  disease.  The  loss  of  Calais  bore  heavily  on  her  spirits,  as 
she  thought  of  the  reproach  it  would  bring  on  her  reign  and  the  increased 
unpopularity  it  would  draw  upon  herself.  "  When  I  die,"  she  said,  in  the 
strong  language  since  made  familiar  to  Englishmen  by  the  similar  expression 
of  their  great  admiral,  "Calais  will  be  found  written  on  my  heart."1* 

Philip,  who  was  not  fully  apprised  of.  the  queen's  low  condition,  early  in 
November  sent  the  count,  afterwards  duke,  of  Feria  as  his  envoy  to  London, 
with  letters  for  Mary.  This  nobleman,  who  had  married  one  of  the  queen's 
maids  of  honour,  stood  high  in  the  favour  of  his  master.  With  courtly 
manners,  and  a  magnificent  way  of  living,  he  combined  a  shrewdness  and 
solidity  of  judgment  that  eminently  fitted  him  for  his  present  mission.  The 
queen  received  with  great  joy  the  letters  which  he  brought  her,  though  too 
ill  to  read  them.  Feria,  seeing  the  low  state  of  Mary's  health,  was  earnest 
with  the  council  to  secure  the  succession  for  Elizabeth.  ' 

He  had  the  honour  of  supping  with  the  princess  at  her  residence  in  Ilatfield, 
about  eighteen  miles  from  London.  The  Spaniard  enlarged,  in  the  course  of 
conversation,  on  the  good  will  of  his  master  to  Elizabeth,  as  shown  in  the 
frii-ndly  offices  he  had  rendered  her  during  her  imprisonment,  and  his  desire  to 
liave  her  succeed  to  the  crown.  The  envoy  did  not  add  that  this  desire  was 

™  "  Adjouxtant  que,  tl  Calalx  denvurolt  "  "  Were  I  to  die  this  moment,  wnnt  of 

nux   KiHiii;<>i".  ny  luy  ny  mf  collogues  n'ow-  frigates  would  be  found  written  on  n>y  heart." 

roy.-nt  rrtoumcr  en  Angleterre,  et  que  cer-  Tlie  original  of  thin  letter  of  Nfl»<n  i*  In  tl.o 

talnement  le  |>euple  leti  lapideroit."     1 'spiers  rnrloun  collection  of  autograph  letters  which 

d  fitat  il.  Uranvelle,  torn.  v.  p.  ui».  belonged  to  the  late  Sir  Ro!*rt  I'eel. 


108  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

prompted  not  so  much  by  the  king's  concern  for  the  interests  of  Elizabeth  as 
by  his  jealousy  of  the  French,  who  seemed  willing  to  countenance  the  pre- 
tensions of  Mary  Stuart,  the  wife  of  the  dauphin,  to  the  English  throne.24 
The  princess  acknowledged  the  protection  she  had  received  from  Philip  in  her 
troubles.  "But  for  her  present  prospects,"  she  said,  "she  was  indebted 
neither  to  the  king  nor  to  the  English  lords,  however  much  these  latter  mi^ht 
vaunt  their  fidelity.  It  was  to  the  people  that  she  owed  them,  and  on  the 
people  she  relied.  2i  This  answer  of  Elizabeth  furnishes  the  key  to  her 
success. 

The  penetrating  eye  of  the  envoy  soon  perceived  that  the  English  princess 
was  under  evil  influences.  The  persons  most  in  her  confidence,  he  wrote,  were 
understood  to  have  a  decided  leaning  to  the  Lutheran  heresy,  and  he  augured 
most  unfavourably  for  the  future  prospects  of  the  kingdom. 

On  the  seventeenth  of  November,  1558,  after  a  brief  but  most  disastrous 
reign,  Queen  Mary  died.  Her  fate  has  been  a  hard  one.  Unimpeachable  in 
her  private  life,  and,  however  misguided,  with  deeply-seated  religious  principles, 
she  has  yet  left  a  name  held  in  more  general  execration  than  any  other  on  the  roll 
of  English  sovereigns.  One  obvious  way  of  accounting  for  this,  doubtless,  is 
by  the  spirit  of  persecution  which  hung  like  a  dark  cloud  over  her  reign.  And 
this  not  merely  on  account  of  the  persecution, — for  that  was  common  with  the 
line  of  Tudor, — but  because  it  was  directed  against  the  professors  of  a  religion 
which  came  to  be  the  established  religion  of  the  country.  Thus  the  blood  of 
the  martyr  became  the  seed  of  a  great  and  powerful  church,  ready  through 
all  after-time  to  bear  testimony  to  the  ruthless  violence  of  its  oppressor. 

There  was  still  another  cause  of  Mary's  unpopularity.  The  daughter  of  Katha- 
rine of  Aragon  could  not  fail  to  be  nurtured  in  a  reverence  for  the  illustrious  line 
from  which  she  was  descended.  The  education  begun  in  the  cradle  was  con- 
tinued in  later  years.  When  the  young  princess  was  betrothed  to  her  cousin, 
Charles  the  Fifth,  it  was  stipulated  that  she  should  be  made  acquainted  with 
the  language  and  the  institutions  of  Castile,  and  should  even  wear  the  costume 
of  the  country.  "And  who,"  exclaimed  Henry  the  Eighth,  "  is  so  well  fitted 
to  instruct  her  in  all  this  as  the  queen,  her  mother  1 "  Even  after  the  match 
with  her  imperial  suitor  was  broken  off  by  his  marriage  with  the  Portuguese 
infanta,  Charles  still  continued  to  take  a  lively  interest  in  the  fortunes  of  his 
young  kinswoman  ;  while  she,  in  her  turn,  naturally  looked  to  the  emperor,  as 
her  nearest  relative,  for  counsel  and  support.  Thus  drawn  towards  Spain  by 
the  ties  of  kindred,  by  sympathy,  and  by  interest,  Mary  became  in  truth  more 
of  a  Spanish  than  an  English  woman  ;  and  when  all  this  was  completed  by 
the  odious  Spanish  match,  and  she  gave  her  hand  to  Philip  the  Second,  the 
last  tie  seemed  to  be  severed  which  had  bound  her  to  ner  native  land. 
Thenceforth  she  remained  an  alien  in  the  midst  of  her  own  subjects.  Very 
different  was  the  fate  of  her  sister  and  successor,  Elizabeth,  who  ruled  over 
her  people  like  a  true-hearted  English  queen,  under  no  influence  and  with  no 
interests  distinct  from  theirs.  She  was  requited  for  it  by  the  most  loyal 

*•  Philip's  feelings  in  this  matter  may  be  "  "Tras  esto  veola  muy  indignada  de  las 

gathered  from  a  passage  in  a  letter  to  Gran-  cosas  que  se  ban  becho  contra  el  la  en  vida  de 

velle,  in  which  he  says  that  the  death  of  the  la  Reina:  muy  asi<la  al  pueblo,  y  muy  cmi- 

young  queen  of  Scots,  then  very  ill,  would  flada  que  lo  tiene  todo  de  su  parte  (como  es 

silence  the    pretensions  which    the    French  verdad),  y  dando  A  entender  que  el  Pueblo 

made  to  England,  and  relieve  Spain  from  a  la  ha  puesto  en  el  estado  que  estit;  y  de  e-to 

great  embarrassment :  "  Si  la  reyna  moc,a  se  Jio  reconoce  nada  ;'i  V.  M.  ni  a1  la  nobloza  del 

muriesse,  que  diz  que  anda  muy  mala,  nos  Reino.  aunque  dice  que  la  ban  enviado  d  pro- 

quitaria  de  bartos  emharaQos  y  del  derecho  meter  txxios  que  le  Reran  fieles."     Mfmorias 

que  pretenden  &  Inglaterra."    Papiers  U'KU-.t  de  la  Real  Academia  de  la  Historia  (Madrid, 

de  Granvelle,  torn.  v.  p.  643.  1832),  torn.  vii.  p.  254. 


ACCESSION  OF  ELIZABETH.  109 

devotion  on  their  part ;  while  round  her  throne  have  gathered  those  patriotic 
recollections  which,  in  spite  of  her  many  errors,  still  render  her  name  dear  to 
Englishmen. 

On  the  death  of  her  sister,  Elizabeth,  without  opposition,  ascended  the 
throne  of  her  ancestors.  It  may  not  be  displeasing  to  the  reader  to  see  the 
portrait  of  her  sketched  by  the  Venetian  minister  at  this  period,  or  rather  two 
years  earlier,  when  she  was  twenty-three  years  of  age.  "  The  princess,"  he 
says,  "  is  as  beautiful  in  mind  as  she  is  in  body ;  though  her  countenance  is 
rather  pleasing  from  its  expression,  than  beautiful.™  She  is  large  and  well 
made ;  her  complexion  clear,  and  of  an  olive  tint ;  her  eyes  are  fine,  and  her 
hands,  on  which  she  prides  herself,  small  and  delicate.  She  has  an  excellent 
genius,  with  much  address  and  self-command,  as  was  abundantly  shown  in  the 
severe  trials  to  which  she  was  exposed  in  the  earlier  part  of  her  life.  In  her 
temper  she  is  haughty  and  imperious,  qualities  inherited  from  her  father, 
King  Henry  the  Eighth,  who,  from  her  resemblance  to  himself,  is  said  to 
have  regarded  her  with  peculiar  fondness."  *T  He  had,  it  must  be  owned,  an 
uncommon  way  of  showing  it. 

One  of  the  first  acts  of  Elizabeth  was  to  write  an  elegant  Latin  epistle  to 
Philip,  in  which  she  acquainted  him  with  her  accession  to  the  crown,  and 
expressed  the  hope  that  they  should  continue  to  maintain  "  the  same  friendly 
relations  as  their  ancestors  had  done?  and,  if  possible,  more  friendly." 

Philip  received  the  tidings  of  his  wife's  death  at  Brussels,  where  her 
obsequies  were  celebrated  with  great  solemnity,  on  the  same  day  with  her 
funeral  in  London.  All  outward  show  of  respect  was  paid  to  her  memory. 
But  it  is  doing  no  injustice  to  Philip  to  suppose  that  his  heart  was  not  very 
deeply  touched  by  the  loss  of  a  wife  so  many  years  older  than  himself,  whose 
temper  had  been  soured,  and  whose  personal  attractions,  such  as  they  were, 
had  long  since  faded  under  the  pressure  of  disease.  Still,  it  was  not  without 
feelings  of  deep  regret  that  the  ambitious  monarch  saw  the  sceptre  of  England 
—barren  though  it  had  proved  to  him— thus  suddenly  snatched  from  his  grasp. 

We  have  already  seen  that  Philip,  during  his  residence  in  the  country,  had 
occasion  more  than  once  to  interpose  his  good  offices  in  behalf  of  Elizabeth. 
It  was  perhaps  the  friendly  relation  in  which  he  thus  stood  to  her,  quite  as 
much  as  her  personal  qualities,  that  excited  in  the  king  a  degree  of  interest 
which  seems  to  have  provoked  something  like  jealousy  in  the  bosom  of  his 
queen.1*  However  this  may  be,  motives  of  a  very  different  character  from 
those  founded  on  sentiment  now  determined  him  to  retain,  if  possible,  his  hold 
on  England,  by  transferring  to  Elizabeth  the  connection  which  had  subsisted 
with  Mary. 

A  month  had  not  elapsed  since  Mary's  remains  were  laid  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  when  the  royal  widower  made  direct  offers,  through  his  ambassador, 
Feria,  for  the  hand  of  her  successor.  Yet  his  ardour  did  riot  precipitate  him 
into  any  unqualified  declaration  of  his  passion  :  on  the  contrary,  his  pro- 
posals were  limited  by  some  very  prudent  conditions. 


corpo ;  aucor'  che  di  fucda  si  nud  dlr*  cbe  sia       quale  dicunu  tutti  cbe  e.  anco  piii  simile,  et 

pi  A  tosto  gratloM  flu-  tx'lla.       IMationr  di        per  cio  gli  fu  scmpre  iar.i."     Ibid. 

Giovanni  Michell,  M.S.  "  Tbe  .Spanish  minister,  Feria,  deslrrd  bin 


**  "  Non  raanco  bella  <T  unimo  che  sla  dl       Si  tlcn  pnperba,  et  gloriosa  per  il  padre ;  del 

quale  dicunu  tutti  cbe  e.  anco  piu 
per  clo  gli  fu  scmpre  cara."     Ibid. 
'•'"  Tbe  Spanish  minister,  Feria,  < 

'Delia  penuma e  grande,  et  ben  formata,  master  to  allow  him  to  mention  Mary's 
dl  bella  carnr,  ancor  che  olivastrm  begl'occhi,  jealousy,  as  an  argument  to  recommend  his 
et  itopra  tutto  bella  mano,  dl  cbe  fa  profcn-  suit  to  the  favour  of  Elizabeth.  Hut  1'liilip 
ni.iin-.ii1  un  ipirlto,  et  ingegiio  mirabile:  II  ha  I  the  good  feeling — or  good  taste— to  r  - 
cbe  ha  uputo  molto  ben  Uimoatrarc.  con  fuse.  Memorlas  de  la  Real  Acadcmia,  lum. 
1'  e»s.Tsl  saputa  no  I  sospettl.  et  pcrlcoll  ne  vii.  p.  260. 
i  quail  »'  4  ritrovata  cosl  ben  governare.  .  .  . 


110  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

It  was  to  be  understood  that  Elizabeth  must  be  a  Roman  Catholic,  and,  if 
not  one  already,  must  repudiate  her  errors  and  become  one.  She  was  to 
obtain  a  dispensation  from  the  pope  for  the  marriage.  Philip  was  to  be 
allowed  to  visit  Spain  whenever  he  deemed  it  necessary  for  the  interests  of 
that  kingdom, — a  provision  which  seems  to  show  that  Mary's  over-fondness, 
or  her  jealousy,  must  have  occasioned  him  some  inconvenience  on  that  score. 
It  was  further  to  be  stipulated  that  the  issue  of  the  marriage  should  not,  as 
was  agreed  in  the  contract  with  Mary,  inherit  the  Netherlands,  which  were 
to  pass  to  his  son  Don  Carlos,  the  prince  of  Asturias. 

Feria  was  directed  to  make  these  proposals  by  word  of  mouth,  not  in 
writing ;  "  although,"  adds  his  considerate  master,  "  it  is  no  disgrace  for  a 
man  to  have  his  proposals  rejected,  when  they  are  founded,  not  on  worldly 
considerations,  but  on  zeal  for  his  Maker  and  the  interests  of  religion. " 

Elizabeth  received  the  offer  of  Philip's  hand,  qualified  as  it  was,  in  the  most 

Eacious  manner.  She  told  the  ambassador,  indeed,  that  "  in  a  matter  of  this 
nd  she  could  take  no  step  without  consulting  her  parliament.  But  his 
master  might  rest  assured  that,  should  she  be  induced  to  marry,  there  was  no 
man  she  should  prefer  to  him." 2*  Philip  seems  to  have  been  contented  with 
the  encouragement  thus  given,  and  shortly  after  he  addressed  Elizabeth  a 
letter,  written  with  his  own  hand,  in  which  he  endeavoured  to  impress  on  her 
how  much  he  had  at  heart  the  success  of  his  ambassador's  mission. 

The  course  of  events  in  England,  however,  soon  showed  that  such  success 
was  not  to  be  relied  on,  and  that  Feria's  prognostics  in  regard  to  the  policy  of 
Elizabeth  were  well  founded.  Parliament  soon  entered  on  the  measures  which 
ended  in  the  subversion  of  the  Roman  Catholic  and  the  restoration  of  the 
Reformed  religion.  And  it  was  very  evident  that  these  measures,  if  not 
originally  dictated  by  the  queen,  must  at  least  have  received  her  sanction. 

Philip,  in  consequence,  took  counsel  with  two  of  his  ministers,  on  whom  he 
most  relied,  as  to  the  expediency  of  addressing  Elizabeth  on  the  subject  and 
telling  her  plainly  that  unless  she  openly  disavowed  the  proceedings  of  parlia- 
ment the  marriage  could  not  take  place.*'  Her  vanity  should  be  soothed  by 
the  expressions  of  his  regret  at  being  obliged  to  relinquish  the  hopes  of  her 
hand  But,  as  her  lover  modestly  remarked,  after  this  candid  statement  of 
all  the  consequences  before  her,  whatever  the  result  might  be,  she  would  have 
no  one  to  blame  but  herself.31  His  sage  advisers,  probably  not  often  called 
to  deliberate  on  questions  of  this  delicate  nature,  entirely  concurred  in  opinion 
with  their  master.  In  any  event,  they  regarded  it  as  impossible  that  he  should 
wed  a  Protestant. 

What  effect  this  frank  remonstrance  had  on  the  queen  we  are  not  told. 
Certain  it  is,  Philip's  suit  no  longer  sped  so  favourably  as  before.  Elizabeth, 
throwing  off  all  disguise,  plainly  told  Feria,  when  pressed  on  the  matter,  that 
she  felt  great  scruples  as  to  seeking  a  dispensation  from  the  pope ; 32  and  soon 

"  "  Dijo  que  convendria  consultarlo  con  el  "  "Convendria  que  hablasse  claro  &   la 

Parlamento ;  bien  que  el  Rey  Catolico  debia  Reyna,  y  le  dixesse  rasamente  que  aunqne 

estar  seguro  que  en  caso  do  casarse,  seria  e"l  yo  desseo  mucho  este  negocio  (y  por  aqui 

preferid'i  £  todos."      Memorias  de  la  Real  evanee^ella  quantp  pndiesso),  pero  que  enten- 

Academia,  torn.  vli.  p.  26 1.  diessc  que  si  baria  niudanc.a  en  la  religion, 

30  "  Paresceme  que  seria  bien  qne  el  conde  yo  lo  hacia  en  este  desseo  y  voluntad,  por  que 

le  hablas.se  claro  en  estas  cosas  de  la  religion,  de«pues  no  pudiesse  dezir  que  no  Re  la  avia 

y  la  amonestasse  y  rogasse  de  mi  parte  que  dicho    antes."     Carta   del    Rey  Phelipe    al 

no  hiziesse  en  ewte  parlamento  mu'lauc,.i  en  Duque  de  Alba,  7  de  Febrero,  1559,  MS. 

ella,  y  que  si  la  hiciesse  que  yo  no  podria  M  "Dijo  que    pensaba    estar  sin  casaree, 

venir  en  lo  del  casamiento,  como  en  effecto  porque  tenia  mucho  escrfipulo  en   lo  de   la 

no  vendria."    Carta  del  Rey  Phelipe  al  Duque  dispensa  del  Papa."    Memori.,8  de  la  Real 

de  Alba,  7  de  Febrcro,  1559,  MS.  Academia,  torn.  vii.  p.  265. 


TREATY  OF  CATEAU-CAMBRESIS.  Ill 

after  she  openly  declared  in  parliament,  what  she  was  in  the  habit  of  repeat- 
ing so  often,  that  she  had  no  other  purpose  but  to  live  and  die  a  maid.3*  It 
can  hardly  be  supposed  that  Elizabeth  entertained  serious  thoughts,  at  any 
time,  of  marrying  Philip.  If  she  encouraged  his  addresses,  it  was  only  until 
she  felt  herself  so  securely  seated  on  the  throne  that  she  was  independent  of  the 
ill-will  she  would  incur  by  their  rejection.  It  was  a  game  in  which  the  heart, 
probably,  formed  no  part  of  the  stake  on  either  side.  In  this  game,  it  must 
be  confessed,  the  English  queen  showed  herself  the  better  player  of  the  two. 

Philip  bore  his  disappointment  with  great  equanimity.  He  expressed  his 
regret  to  Elizabeth  that  she  should  have  decided  in  a  way  so  contrary  to  what 
the  public  interests  seemed  to  demand.  But,  since  it  appeared  to  her  otherwise, 
he  snould  acquiesce,  and  only  hoped  that  the  same  ena  might  be  attained  by 
the  continuance  of  then:  friendship."  With  all  this  philosophy,  we  may  well 
believe  that,  with  a  character  like  that  of  Philip,  some  bitterness  must  have 
remained  in  the  heart,  and  that,  very  probably,  feelings  of  a  personal  nature 
mingled  with  those  of  a  political  in  the  long  hostilities  which  he  afterwards 
earned  on  with  the  English  queen. 

In  the  month  of  February  the  conferences  for  the  treaty  had  been  resumed, 
and  the  place  of  meeting  changed  from  the  abbey  of  Cercamps  to  Cateau- 
Cambresis.  The  negotiations  were  urged  forward  with  greater  earnestness 
than  before,  as  both  the  monarchs  were  more  sorely  pressed  oy  their  necessities. 
Philip,  in  particular,  was  so  largely  in  arrears  to  liis  army  that  he  frankly  told 
his  ministers  "  he  was  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  from  which  nothing  but  a  peace 
could  save  him."**  It  might  be  supposed  that,  in  this  state  of  things,  he 
would  be  placed  in  a  disadvantageous  attitude  for  arranging  terms  with  his 
adversary.  But  Philip  and  his  ministers  put  the  best  face  possible  on  their 
aliairs,  affecting  a  confidence  in  their  resources,  before  their  allies  as  well  as 
their  enemies,  which  they  were  far  from  feeling ;  like  some  half-famished  gar- 
rison, which  makes  a  brave  show  of  its  scanty  stock  of  supplies,  in  order  to 
win  better  terms  from  the  besiegers.*' 

All  the  difficulties  were  at  length  cleared  away,  except  the  vexed  question 
of  Calais.  The  English  queen,  it  was  currently  said  in  the  camp,  would  cut  off 
the  head  of  any  minister  who  abandoned  it.  'Mary,  the  young  queen  of  Scots, 
had  just  been  married  to  the  French  dauphin,  afterwards  Francis  the  Second. 
It  was  proposed  that  the  eldest  daughter  born  of  this  union  should  be  united 
to  the  eldest  son  of  Elizabeth  and  bring  with  her  Calais  as  a  dowry.  In  this 
way  the  place  would  be  restored  to  England  without  dishonour  to  France.*' 

"  Memoriae  de  '    Real  Academia,  torn.  vil.  trance  qne  rey  s'a  visto  jamas,  si  el  no  tiene 

p.  266.  otrus  dineroe,  que  yo  no  Be,  6  que  el  sefior 

**  "  A     que    han,a   recibldo    pena  de  no  Eraso  alle  algnn  secretto  que  tiene  reservado 

haberse  concluido  co"a  quo  tanto  deseana,  y  para  esto."      Papiers  d'Etat    de  Granvelle, 

parecia  convenir  al  bten  piiblico,  p«es  ii  ella  torn.  v.  p.  <5H. 

no  le  habla  pareclilo  tan  nrcrsitario,  y  que  con  "  The  minister  in  London  was  instructed 

buena  ami«taci  re  conscguiria  el  nusiuo  tin,  to  keep  up  the  same  show  of  confidence  to 

qu-.-daha  satislecho  y  contemo."  Ibid.,  p.  265.  the  English  :   "Todavia  mostramos  rostro  4 

'•  The  duke  of  Savoy,  In  a  letter  to  (iian-  Ion  Franceses,  ronio  tamblen  es  menester  que 

vollp,  nay»  that  the  king  is  in  arrears  more  alia  He  haga  am  los  Ingleses,  que  no  se  puede 

thnn  a  million  of  crowns  to  the  German  truops  ronflar  que    no  vmgan   Franceses    &    saber 

alone;  and,  miles*  the  ministers  hare  some  dell<M  lo  que  alii  jxxlrian  en  tender."     Ibid., 

mysterious  rwlpt  for  raising  money,  beyond  p.  479. 

bis  knowledge,  Philip  will  be  in  the  greatest  "  Ihid..  p.  46ft. — "That  the  said  Dolphin's 

emliarrassment  that  any  sovt reign  ever  was:  and   Queen   <>f  Scott's  eldest  daughter  shall 

M  No  ay  un  real  y  deveseles  ii  la  gonte  ale-  marry  with  your  highncs  eldest  sonne,  who 

mana.  d^max  de  lo  qne  seles  a  pagado  aora  de  with  her  shall  have  Callice."    Forbes,  Slate 

l.i  vl  Ja  d-  uda,  mas  d'un  mylion  d'excudos.  Papers  of  Elizabeth,  vol.  I.  p.  M.     It  sefmrd 

.  .  .  Por  es»)  mirad  conm  hazeys,  que  sino  se  to  be  taken  for  granted  that  Elizabeth  waa 

bazc  la  paz  y>  veo  el  rey  pucsto  en  tl  mayor  not  to  die  a  maiden  queen,  notwithstanding 


112  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

Such  were  the  wild  expedients  to  which  the  parties  resorted  in  the  hope  of 
extricating  themselves  from  their  embarrassment ! 

At  length,  seeing  the  absolute  necessity  of  bringing  the  matter  to  an  issue, 
Philip  ordered  the  Spanish  pleiiipotentiaries  to  write  his  final  instructions  to 
Feria,  his  minister  in  London.  The  envoy  was  authorized  to  say  that,  although 
England  had  lost  Calais  through  her  own  negligence,  vet  Philip  would  stand 
faithfully  by  her  for  the  recovery  of  it.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  she  must  be 
prepared  to  support  him  with  her  whole  strength  by  land  and  by  sea,  and  that 
not  for  a  single  campaign,  but  for  the  war  so  long  as  it  lasted.  The  govern- 
ment should  ponder  well  whether  the  prize  would  be  worth  the  cost.  Feria 
must  bring  the  matter  home  to  the  queen,  and  lead  her,  if  possible,  to  the 
desired  conclusion,  but  so  that  she  might  appear  to  come  to  it  by  her  own 
suggestion  rather  than  by  his.  The  responsibility  must  be  left  with  her.*8 
The  letter  of  the  plenipotentiaries,  which  is  a  very  long  one,  is  a  model  in  its 
way,  and  shows  that,  in  some  particulars,  the  science  of  diplomacy  has  gained 
little  since  the  sixteenth  century. 

Elizabeth  needed  no  argument  to  make  her  weary  of  a  war  which  hung  like 
a  dark  cloud  on  the  morning  of  her  reign.  Her  disquietude  had  been  in- 
creased by  the  fact  of  Scotland  having  become  a  party  to  the  war  ;  and  hos- 
tilities, with  little  credit  to  that  country,  had  broken  out  along  the  borders. 
Her  own  kingdom  was  in  no  condition  to  allow  her  to  make  the  extraordinary 
efforts  demanded  by  Philip.  Yet  it  was  plain,  if  she  did  not  make  them,  or 
consent  to  come  into  the  treaty,  she  must  be  left  to  carry  on  the  war  by  herself. 
Under  these  circumstances,  the  English  government  at  last  consented  to  an 
arrangement  which,  if  it  did  not  save  Calais,  so  far  saved  appearances  that  it 
might  satisfy  the  nation.  It  was  agreed  that  Calais  should  be  restored  at  the 
end  of  eight  years.  If  France  failed  to  do  this,  she  was  to  pay  five  hundred 
thousand  crowns  to  England,  whose  claims  to  Calais  would  not,  however,  be 
affected  by  such  a  payment.  Should  either  of  the  parties,  or  their  subjects, 
during  that  period,  do  anything  in  contravention  of  this  treaty,  or  in  violation 
of  the  peace  between  the  two  countries,  the  offending  party  should  forfeit  all 
claim  to  the  disputed  territory.39  It  was  not  very  pronable  that  eight  years 
would  elapse  without  affording  some  plausible  pretext  to  France,  under  such 
a  provision,  for  keeping  her  hold  on  Calais. 

The  treaty  with  England  was  signed  on  the  second  of  April,  1559.  On  the 
day  following  was  signed  that  between  France  and  Spain.  By  the  provisions 
of  this  treaty,  the  allies  of  Philip,  Savoy,  Mantua,  Genoa,  were  reinstated  in 
the  possession  of  the  territories  of  which  they  had  been  stripped  in  the  first 
years  of  the  war.  Four  or  five  places  of  importance  in  Savoy  were  alone 
reserved,  to  be  held  as  guarantees  oy  the  French  king  until  his  claim  to  the 
inheritance  of  that  duchy  was  determined. 

The  conquests  made  by  Philip  in  Picardy  were  to  be  exchanged  for  those 
gained  by  the  French  in  Italy  and  the  Netherlands.  The  exchange  was 
greatly  for  the  benefit  of  Philip.  In  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth  the  Spanish 
arms  had  experienced  some  severe  reverses,  and  the  king  now  received  more 
than  two  hundred  towns  in  return  for  the  five  places  he  held  in  Picardy.40 

her  assertions,  so   often   reiterated,  to  the  V.  S.  tenga  rcspecto  a  proponerle  las  razonos 

country.  en  balanfa,  de  manera  que  pespn   siempre 

38  "  Hablando  con  la  reyna  sin  persuadirla,  mucho  mas  las  que  la  ban  de  inclinar  al 

ny  &  la  paz,  ny  a  que  dexe  Calais,  ny  tarn-  concierto."   Papiers  d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn, 

poco  li  que  venga  bii-n  a  las  otras  condiciones  v.  p.  479. 

propuestas  por  los  Franceses,  para  que  en  "  See  the  treaty,  in  Dumont.  Corps  diplo- 

ningun  tietnpo  pueda  dezir  que  de  parte  de  tnatique  (Amsterdam,  1728),  torn.  v.  p.  31. 
S.  M.  la  hayan  persuadido  a  cosa  que  qnifi  "  Gamier,  Histoire  de  France,  torn,  xxvii. 

dei-pues  pensasse  qus  no  le  estuviesse  bien,  p.  570. 


TREATY  OP  CATEAU-CAMBRES1S.  113 

Terras  so  disadvantageous  to  France  roused  the  indignation  of  the  duke  of 
Guise,  who  told  Henry  plainly  that  a  stroke  of  his  pen  would  cost  the  country 
more  than  thirty  years  of  war.  "  Give  me  the  poorest  of  the  places  you  are  to 
surrender,"  said  he,  "  and  I  will  undertake  to  hold  it  against  all  the  armies  of 
Spain  ! " 4I  But  Henry  sighed  for  peace  and  for  the  return  of  his  friend  the 
constable.  He  affected  much  deference  to  the  opinions  of  the  duke.  But  he 
wrote  to  Moiitmoreucy  that  the  Guises  were  at  their  old  tricks,4* — and  he 
ratified  the  treaty. 

The  day  on  which  the  plenipotentiaries  of  the  three  great  powers  had  com- 
pleted their  work,  they  went  in  solemn  procession  to  the  church  and  returned 
thanks  to  the  Almighty  for  the  happy  consummation  of  their  labours.  The 
treaty  was  then  made  public  ;  and,  notwithstanding  the  unfavourable  import 
of  the  terms  to  France,  the  peace,  if  we  except  some  ambitious  spirits,  who 
would  have  found  their  account  in  the  continuance  of  hostilities,  was  welcomed 
with  joy  by  the  whole  nation.  In  this  sentiment  all  the  parties  to  the  war 
participated.  The  more  remote,  like  Spain,  rejoiced  to  be  delivered  from  a 
contest  which  made  such  large  drains  on  their  finances  ;  while  France  had  an 
additional  reason  for  desiring  peace,  now  that  her  own  territory  had  become 
the  theatre  of  war. 

The  reputation  which  Philip  had  acquired  by  his  campaigns  was  greatly 
heightened  by  the  result  of  his  negotiations.  The  whole  course  of  these  nego- 
tiations— long  and  intricate  as  it  was — is  laid  open  to  us  in  the  correspondence 
fortunately  preserved  among  the  papers  of  Granvelle ;  and  the  student  who 
explores  these  pages  may  probably  rise  from  them  with  the  conviction  that  the 
Spanish  plenipotentiaries  showed  an  address,  a  knowledge  of  the  men  they  had 
to  deal  with,  and  a  consummate  policy,  in  which  neither  their  French  nor 
English  rivals  were  a  match  for  them.  The  negotiation  all  passed  under  the 
eyes  of  Philip.  Every  move  in  the  game,  if  not  by  his  suggestion,  had  been 
made  at  least  with  his  sanction.  The  result  placed  him  in  honourable  contrast 
to  Henry  the  Second,  who,  while  Philip  had  stood  firmly  by  his  allies,  had,  in 
his  eagerness  for  peace,  abandoned  those  of  France  to  their  fate. 

The  early  campaigns  of  Philip  had  wiped  away  the  disgrace  caused  by  the 
closing  campaigns  of  Charles  the  Fifth  ;  and  by  the  treaty  he  had  negotiated, 
the  number  of  towns  which  he  lost  was  less  than  that  of  provinces  which  he 
gained.4*  Thus  he  had  shown  himself  as  skilful  in  counsel  as  he  had  been 
successful  in  the  field.  Victorious  in  Picardy  and  in  Naples,  he  liad  obtained 

41  "  MetteK-moi,  sire,  dans  la  plus  man-  p.  667. 

vaise  des  places  qu'on  vous  propose  d'aban-  "  "  Pour  tant  de  restitutions  on  dc  conces- 

dumi'  r.  et  que  voe  ennemis  tkchent  de  m'eil  slons  que  revenoit-il  a  la  France  ?  mums  dc 

delop.'r."    Gailtard,  Rivallte  de  la  France  et  places  qu'elle  ne  cedoit  de  provinces."    Gall- 

de  1'Espagne,  tout.  v.  p.  294.  lard,  Rivallte  de  la  France  et  de  1'Espagne, 

"  Gamier,  Ulstoire  de  France,  torn,  xxvil.  torn.  v.  p.  292.* 


*  [The  language  of  the  text  la  an  incorrect        dered  to  Mantua  and  Genoa  respectively.    On 
version    of   Guillard's    somewhat    rhetorical         the  side  of  the  Netherlands  the  "two  hundred" 


statement.  The  provinces  "  lost  "  by  France  places  restored  to  Philip  consisted  chielly  of 
were  "gained,"  not  by  Philip,  but  by  his  iriMgTiiticant  cant  IPS  and  villages,  the  excep- 
allies.  The  chief  cession  made  by  the  former  lions  being  1'hionville  and  one  or  two  other 


iwwer  was  thai  of  territory  belonging  to  Savoy,  strong  places,  the  loss  of  which  was  more  than 

including  that  duchy,  Bresse  and  Bugey,  and  balanced  by  the  recovery  of  Saint-Quentin  and 

the  greater  part  of  Piedmont. — what.  In  short,  the   adjacent  fortresses.     There   was  also  a 

was   considered    the   "  natural  frontier "  of  virtual  abandonment  by  the  Kmpire  of  its 

France  on  the  side  of  Italy.    Hence  tho  indig-  claim  to  the  ••  three  bishoprics,"— Metz,  Tout, 

nation  which  the  treaty  excited  at  the  time,  and  Verdun.     Hml  Ferdinand  and  the  electors 

an  I  with  which  It  Is  still  referred  to  by  French  insisted  on  their  restitution,  Philip  was  appa- 

historlans.    The  other  conquests  of  trance  in  rrntly  prepared  to  make  this  a  line  qua  non  of 

the  same  quarter  and  in  Corsica  were  surren-  peace.— ED.] 

I 


114  WAR  WITH  FRANCE. 

the  terms  of  a  victor  from  the  king  of  France,  and  humbled  the  arrogance  of 
Rome,  in  a  war  to  which  he  had  been  driven  in  self-defence.44  Faithful  to  his 
allies  and  formidable  to  his  foes,  there  was  probably  no  period  of  Philip's  life 
in  which  he  possessed  so  much  real  consideration  in  the  eyes  of  Europe  as  at 
the  time  of  signing  the  treaty  of  Cateau-Cambresis. 

In  order  to  cement  the  union  between  the  different  powers,  and  to  conciliate 
the  good  will  of  the  French  nation  to  the  treaty  by  giving  it  somewhat  of  the 
air  of  a  marriage-contract,  it  was  proposed  that  an  alliance  should  take  place 
tetween  the  royal  houses  of  France  and  Spain.  It  was  first  arranged  that  the 
hand  of  Henry's  daughter,  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  should  be  given  to  Carlos, 
the  son  and  heir  of  Philip.  The  parties  were  of  nearly  the  same  age,  being 
each  about  fourteen  years  old.  Now  that  all  prospect  of  the  English  match 
had  vanished,  it  was  thought  to  be  a  greater  compliment  to  the  French  to 
substitute  the  father  for  the  son,  the  monarch  himself  for  the  heir  apparent, 
in  the  marriage-treaty.  The  disparity  of  years  between  Philip  and  Elizabeth 
was  not  such  as  to  present  any  serious  objection.  The  proposition  was  said  to 
have  come  from  the  French  negotiators.  The  Spanish  envoys  replied  that, 
notwithstanding  their  master's  repugnance  to  entering  again  into  wedlock, 
yet,  from  his  regard  to  the  French  monarch,  and  his  desire  for  the  public  weal, 
he  would  consent  to  waive  his  scruples,  and  accept  the  hand  of  the  French 
princess,  with  the  same  dowry  which  had  been  promised  to  his  son  Don 
Carlos.4* 

Queen  Elizabeth  seems  to  have  been  not  a  little  piqued  by  the  intelligence 
that  Philip  had  so  soon  consoled  himself  for  the  failure  of  his  suit  to  her. 
"  Your  master,"  said  she,  in  a  petulant  tone,  to  Feria,  "  must  have  been  much 
ia  love  with  me,  not  to  be  able  to  wait  four  months ! "  The  ambassador 
answered  somewhat  bluntly,  by  throwing  the  blame  of  the  affair  on  the  queen 
herself.  "  Not  so,"  she  retorted :  "  I  never  gave  your  king  a  decided  answer." 
"  True,"  said  Feria,  "  the  refusal  was  only  implied,  for  I  would  not  urge 
your  highness  to  a  downright  '  No,'  lest  it  might  prove  a  cause  of  offence 
between  so  great  princes."  *• 

In  June,  1559,  the  duke  of  Alva  entered  France  for  the  purpose  of  claiming 
the  royal  bride  and  espousing  her  in  the  name  of  his  master.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  Ruy  Gomez,  count  of  Melito, — better  known  by  his  title  of  prince 
of  Eboli, — by  the  prince  of  Orange,  the  Count  Egmont,  and  other  noblemen, 
whose  high  rank  and  character  might  give  lustre  to  the  embassy.  He  was 
received  in  great  state  by  Henry,  who,  with  his  whole  court,  seemed  anxious 
to  show  to  the  envoy  every  marie  of  respect  that  could  testify  their  satisfaction 
with  the  object  of  his  mission.  The  duke  displayed  all  the  stately  demeanour 
of  a  true  Spanish  hidalgo.  Although  he  conformed  to  the  French  usage  by 

44  Charles  the  Fifth,  who,  in  his  monastic  rondement,  que  combien  vostre  majeste  soit 

seclusion  at  Yuste,  might  naturally  have  felt  tousjours  este  dure  et  difficile  &  recepvoir 

wore  scruples  at  a  collision  with  Rome  than  persuasions  pour  se  remarier,  que  toutesfois, 

when,    in  earlier  days,  he  held  the  pope  a  aiant  represent^  a  icelle  le  desir  du  roi  tres- 

prisoner  in  his  capital,  decidedly  approved  of  chrestien  et  le  bien  que  de  se  mariage  pourra 

his  son's  course.    It  was  a  war  of  necessity,  he  succeder,  et  pour  plus  prumptement  consolider 

said,  in  a  letter  to  Juan  Vazquez  de  Molina,  ceste  union  et  paix,  elle  s'estoit  resolue,  pour 

and  I'hilip  would  stand  acquitted  of  the  con-  monstrer  sa  bonne  et  syncere  affection,  d'y 

sequences  before  God  and  man  :  "  Pues  no  se  am  lescendre  franchemcnt."    (jranvelle,  Pa- 

\  uede  hazer  otra  cosa,  y  el  Rey  se  ha  justifi-  piers  d'fitat,  torn.  v.  p.  580. 

cado  en  tantas  maneras  cumpliendo  con  Diosy  **  "  El  Conde  la  dijo,  que  aunque  las  nega- 

el  inundo,  por  escusar  los  danos  que  dello  se  tivas  liabian  sido  en  cierto  modo  indirectas,  el 

seguiran,  forzado  sera  usar  del  ultimo  renio  no  habia  qnerido  apurarla  nasta  el  punto  de 

dio."    Carta  del  Emperador  a  Juan  Vazquez  decir  redondamente  que  no,  por  no  dar  motivo 

de  Molina,  8  de  Agosto,  1557,  MS.  a  indignaciones  entre  dos  tan  grandes  Prfnci- 

"  "II  nous  a  semblc  mieulx  de  leur  dire  pes."    Mem.  de  la  Academia,  torn.  vii.  p.  268. 


DEATH  OP  HENRY  THE  SECOND.  115 

saluting  the  ladies  of  the  court,  he  declined  taking  this  liberty  with  his  future 
queen,  or  covering  himself,  as  repeatedly  urged,  in  her  presence, — a  piece  of 
punctilio  greatly  admired  by  the  French,  as  altogether  worthy  of  the  noble 
(Ja.stilian  breeding.47 

On  the  twenty-fourth  of  June,  the  marriage  of  the  young  princess  was  cele- 
brated in  the  church  of  St.  Mary.  King  Henry  gave  his  daughter  away.  The 
duke  of  Alva  acted  as  his  sovereign's  proxy.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  cere- 
mony, the  prince  of  Eboli  placed  on  tne  finger  of  the  princess,  as  a  memento 
from  her  lord,  a  diamond  ring  of  inestimable  value  ;  and  the  beautiful  Elizabeth, 
the  destined  bride  of  Don  Carlos,  became  the  bride  of  the  king  his  father.  It 
was  an  ominous  union,  destined,  in  its  mysterious  consequences,  to  supply 
a  richer  theme  for  the  pages  of  romance  than  for  those  of  history. 

The  wedding  was  followed  by  a  succession  of  brilliant  entertainments,  the 
chief  of  which  was  the  tournament, — the  most  splendid  pageant  of  that 
spectacle-loving  age.  Henry  was  at  that  time  busily  occupied  with  the  work 
of  exterminating  the  Protestant  heresy,  which,  as  already  noticed,  had  begun 
to  gather  formidable  head  in  the  capital  of  his  dominions.48  On  the  evening 
of  the  fifteenth  of  June  he  attended  a  session  of  the  parliament,  and  arrested 
some  of  its  principal  members  for  the  boldness  of  their  speech  in  his  presence. 
He  ordered  them  into  confinement,  deferring  their  sentence  till  the  termination 
of  the  engrossing  business  of  the  tourney. 

The  king  delighted  in  these  martial  exercises,  in  which  he  could  display  his 
showy  person  and  matchless,  horsemanship  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled 
beauty  and  fashion  of  his  court.49  He  fully  maintained  his  reputation  on  this 
occasion,  carrying  off  one  prize  after  another,  and  bearing  down  ah1  who 
encountered  his  lance.  Towards  evening,  when  the  games  had  drawn  to  a 
close,  he  observed  the  young  count  of  Montgomery,  a  Scotch  noble,  the  captain 
of  his  guard,  leaning  on  his  lance  as  vet  unbroken.  The  king  challenged  the 
cavalier  to  run  a  course  with  him  for  his  lady's  sake.  In  vain  the  queen,  with 
a  melancholy  boding  of  some  disaster,  besought  her  lord  to  remain  content 
with  the  laurels  he  nad  already  won.  Henry  obstinately  urged  his  fate,  and 
compelled  the  count,  though  extremely  loath,  to  take  the  saddle.  The  cham- 
pions  met  with  a  furious  shock  in  the  middle  of  the  lists.  Montgomery  was  a 
rude  jouster.  He  directed  his  lance  with  such  force  against  the  helmet  of  his 
antagonist  that  the  bars  of  the  visor  gave  way.  The  lance  splintered ;  a  frag- 
ment struck  the  king  with  such  violence  on  the  temple  as  to  lay  bare  the  eye. 
The  unhappy  monarch  reeled  in  his  saddle,  and  would  have  fallen  but  for  the 
assistance  of  the  constable,  the  duke  of  Guise,  and  other  nobles,  who  bore  him 

*'  ••Osservando  egll  1*  nsanza  Francese  nel  the  pope's  «u thorite  and  his  religion."  (Forbes, 

baciar  tutteraltreDamedlCorte,  nell'arriuar  State  Papers,  vol.  1.  p.  296.)    Without  direct 

alia  futura  sua   Relna,   non    solo  Intcrtnise  evidence  of  such  a  secret  unilcTRtanding,  inti- 

quella  famigliare  cerimonia,  ma  non  solle  no  mations  of  it,  derived  from  other  eources,  may 

anctie  giamai  coprirsi  la  testa,  per  istaiiza,che  be  found  In  more  than  one  passage  uf  this 

da  lei  IIP  gli  fume  fatta  ;  II  che  fu  nutato  per  history. 

nobllisslmo,  edegnoattodlcn-nzaSpagnuola."  ••  Brantome  who  repays  the  favours  he  had 

Campana,  Filippo  Secondo,  parte  li.  lib.  H.  received  from  Henry  the  Second  by  giving 

"  The  work  <>f  extermination  wag  t<>  covrr  him  a  conspicuous  place  in   his  gallery  of 

more  ground  than  llemy's  capital  or  country,  portraits,  eulogizes  his  graceful  bearing  in  the 

if  we  may  take  the  word  of  the  Knglish  com-  tournpy,  and  his   admirable   hoixemunxhip  : 

mlsxioners,  who,  in  a  letter  dated  January,  •'  Mais  mir  tout  its  1'admlioipnt  fort  en  na  hello 

1659,  advise  the  queen,  their  mistreats  that  grace  qu'il  avoit  en  sen  armes  et  a  cbeval ; 

"there  was  an  appolnctement  made  betwene  comme  de  vray,  c'estoit  le  prince  du  moiule 

the  late  pope,  the  French  king,  and  the  king  qui  av-ait  la  meilleure  grace  et  la  plim  bellu 

of  Spalne,  for  the  Jolgnlng  of  their  forces  to-  lenue,  et  qul  »cavolt  aussi  bien  monstrer  la 

gi-tlii-r  for  the  suppression  of  religion,  .  .  .  Ui*  vertu  et  bonte  d'un  cheval,  et  en  cacher  lo 

end  whereof  was  to  constraine  the  rent  of  vice."    (Euvres,  torn.  11.  p.  363. 
chriatlcudome,  being  Protestants,  to  receive 


116  LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

in  their  arms  senseless  from  the  lists.  Henry's  wound  was  mortal.  He 
lingered  ten  days  in  great  agony,  and  expired  on  the  ninth  of  July,  in  the 
forty-second  year  of  his  age,  and  the  thirteenth  of  his  reign.  It  was  an  ill 
augury  for  the  nuptials  of  Elizabeth.50 

The  tidings  of  the  king's  death  were  received  with  demonstrations  of  sorrow 
throughout  the  kingdom.  He  had  none  of  those  solid  qualities  which  make 
either  a  great  or  a  good  prince.  But  he  had  the  showy  qualities  which  are 
perhaps  more  effectual  to  secure  the  affections  of  a  people  as  fond  of  show  as 
the  nation  whom  Henry  governed.41  There  were  others  in  the  kingdom,  how- 
ever,— that  growing  sect  of  the  Huguenots, — who  looked  on  the  monarch's 
death  with  very  different  eyes, — who  rejoiced  in  it  as  a  deliverance  from  perse- 
cution. They  had  little  cause  to  rejoice/  The  sceptre  passed  into  the  hands 
of  a  line  of  imbecile  princes,  or  rather  of  their  mother,  the  famous  Catherine 
de  Medicis,  who  reigned  in  their  stead,  and  who  ultimately  proved  herself  the 
most  merciless  foe  the  Huguenots  ever  encountered. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LATTER  DAYS  OF  OHAKLES  THE  FIFTH. 

Charles  at  Yuste— His  Mode  of  Life— Interest  in  Public  Affaire— Celebrates  his  Obsequies — 
Last  Illness — Death  and  Character. 

1556-1558. 

WHILE  the  occurrences  related  in  the  preceding  chapter  were  passing,  an  event 
took  place  which,  had  it  happened  earlier,  would  have  had  an  important  influ- 
ence on  the  politics  of  Europe,  and  the  news  of  which,  when  it  did  happen,  was 
everywhere  received  with  the  greatest  interest.  This  event  was  the  death  of 
the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth,  in  his  monastic  retreat  at  Yuste.  In  the 
earlier  pages  of  our  narrative  we  have  seen  how  that  monarch,  after  his  abdi- 
cation of  the  throne,  withdrew  to  the  Jeronymite  convent  among  the  hills  of 
Estremadura.  The  reader  may  now  feel  some  interest  in  following  him 
thither,  and  in  observing  in  what  manner  he  accommodated  himself  to  the 
change  and  passed  the  closing  days  of  his  eventful  life.  The  picture  I  am 
enabled  to  give  of  it  will  differ  in  some  respects  from  those  of  former  historians, 
who  wrote  when  the  Archives  of  Simancas,  which  afforded  the  most  authentic 
records  for  the  narrative,  were  inaccessible  to  the  scholar,  native  as  well  as 
foreign.1 

Charles,  as  we  have  seen,  had  early  formed  the  determination  to  relinquish 
at  some  future  time  the  cares  of  royalty,  and  devote  himself,  in  some  lonely 
retreat,  to  the  good  work  of  his  salvation.  His  consort,  the  Empress  Isabella, 

B°  Brantome,  (Euvres,  torn.  ii.  p.  351.— De  '  This  pleasing  anticipation  Is  not  destined 

Thou,  Histoire  universelle,  toni.  iii.  p.  367. —  to  be  realized.  Since  the  above  was  writtrn, 

Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  iv.  cap.  29.—  In  the  summer  of  1851,  the  cloister-life  of 

Campana,  Filippo  Secondo,  part"  ii.  lib.  11.-  Charles  the  Fifth,  then  a  virgin  topic,  has 

Forbes,  State  Papers,  vol.  i.  p.  151.  become  a  thrice-told  tale,— thanks  to  the 

"  The  English  commissioner,  Sir  Nicholas  labours  of  Mr.  Stirling.  M.  Amedee  Pichot, 

Throckmorton,  bears  testimony  to  the  popu-  and  M.  Mignet;  while  the  publication  of  the 

laxity  of  Henry:  "  Their  was  marvailous  great  original  documents  from  Simancas,  by  M. 

lamentation  made  for  him,  and  weaping  of  all  Gachard,  will  put  it  in  the  power  of  every 

sorts,  both  men  and  women."  Forbes,  State  scholar  to  verify  their  statements.  See  the 

Papers,  vol.  i.  p.  151.  postscript  at  the  end  of  this  chapter. 


CHARLES  AT  YUSTB.  117 

as  appears  from  his  own  statement  at  Yuste,  had  avowed  the  same  pious 
purpose.1  She  died,  however,  too  early  to  execute  her  plan  ;  and  Charles  was 
too  much  occupied  with  his  ambitious  enterprises  to  accomplish  his  object  until 
the  autumn  of  1555,  when,  broken  in  health  and  spirits,  and  disgusted  with  the 
world,  he  resigned  the  sceptre  he  had  held  for  forty  years,  ana  withdrew  to  a 
life  of  obscurity  and  repose. 

The  spot  he  had  selected  for  his  residence  was  situated  about  seven  leagues 
from  the  city  of  Plasencia,  on  the  slopes  of  the  mountain-chain  that  traverses 
the  province  of  Estreinadunv.  There,  nestling  among  the  nigged  hills,  clothed 
with  thick  woods  of  chestnut  and  oak,  the  Jeronymite  convent  was  sheltered 
from  the  rude  breezes  of  the  north.  Towards  the  south,  the  land  sloped  by  a 
gradual  declivity  till  it  terminated  in  a  broad  expanse,  the  Vera  of  Plasencia. 
as  it  was  called,  which,  fertilized  by  the  streams  of  the  sierra,  contrasted 
strongly  in  its  glowing  vegetation  with  the  wild  character  of  the  mountain- 
scenery.  It  was  a  spot  well  fitted  for  such  as  would  withdraw  themselves  from 
commerce  with  the  world  and  consecrate  their  days  to  prayer  and  holy  medi- 
tation. The  Jeronymite  fraternity  had  prospered  in  this  peaceful  abode. 
Many  of  the  monks  had  acquired  reputation  for  sanctity,  and  some  of  them 
for  learning,  the  fruits  of  which  might  be  seen  in  a  large  collection  of  manu- 
scripts preserved  in  the  library  of  the  monastery.  Benefactions  were  heaped 
on  the  brotherhood.  They  became  proprietors  of  considerable  tracts  of  land 
in  the  neighbourhood,  and  they  liberally  employed  their  means  in  dispensing 
alms  to  the  poor  who  sought  it  at  the  gate  of  the  convent.  Not  long  before 
Charles  took  up  his  residence  among  them,  they  had  enlarged  their  building 
by  an  extensive  quadrangle,  which  displayed  some  architectural  elegance  in 
the  construction  of  its  cloisters. 

Three  years  before  the  emperor  repaired  thither,  he  sent  a  skilf til  architect 
to  provide  such  accommodations  as  he  had  designed  for  himselft  These  were 
very  simple.  A  small  building,  containing  eight  rooms,  four  on  each  floor,  was 
raised  against  the  southern  wall  of  the  monastery.  The  rooms  were  low,  and 
of  a  moderate  size.  They  were  protected  by  porticos,  which  sheltered  them  on 
two  sides  from  the  rays  of  the  sun,  while  an  open  gallery,  which  passed  through 
the  centre  of  the  house,  afforded  means  for  its  perfect  ventilation.  But 
diaries,  with  his  gouty  constitution,  was  more  afraid  of  the  cold  damps  than  of 
heat ;  and  he  took  care  to  have  the  apartments  provided  with  fireplaces,  a 
luxury  little  known  in  this  temperate  region. 

A  window  opened  from  his  chamber  directly  into  the  chapel  of  the  monas- 
tery ;  and  through  this,  when  confined  to  his  bed  and  too  ill  to  attend  mass, 
he  could  see  the  elevation  of  the  host.  The  furniture  of  the  dwelling — accord- 
ing to  an  authority  usually  followed — was  of  the  simplest  kind  ;  and  Charles, 
we  are  told,  took  no  better  care  of  his  gouty  limbs  than  to  provide  himself 
with  an  arm-chair,  or  rather  half  a  chair,  which  would  not  have  brought  four 
reals  at  auction.*  The  inventory  of  the  furniture  of  Yuste  tells  a  very 

Sandoval,  Hist,  de  Carlos  V.,  torn.  li.  p.  Charles  the  Fifth  from  the  prior  of  Yuote,  Fray 

611.  Martin  de  Angulo.    The  authority,  doubt  loss, 

*  "  Una  sola  sills  de  caderas,  qne  man  era  ie  of  the  highest  value,  as  the  prior,  who 

media  all  la,  tan  vlcja  y  riiyn  que  si  se  patient  wltnesiwd  the  closing  scenes  of  Charles's  life, 

en  vcnta  no  dleran  por  ella  qnatro  realcs."  drew  up  bin  relation  for  the  information  of  the 

Sandoval,  Hist,  de  Carlo*  V..tom.  II.  p.  610. —  regent  Joanna,  and  at  her  request.    Why  the 

Sm>alw>  Kl  perfecto  Desen-iafio.  por  el  Marques  good  father  should  have  presented  his  hero  in 

de  Valparayso,  MS.  —  The  latter  writer,   In  such  a  poverty-stricken  aspect  It  Is  not  eaay  to 

speaking  of  the  furniture,  uses  precisely  the  cay.    Perhaps  he  thought  It  would  redound  to 

same  language,  with  the  exception  of  a  single  the  credit  of  the  emperor  that  be  should  have 

wuM.  aftSniiitnval.    Roth  claim  to  have  mainly  been  willing  to  exchange  the  splendour*  of  a 

derived  their  account  of  the  cloister-life  of  throne  for  a  life  of  monkish  mortification. 


118  LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  TIIE  FIFTH. 

different  story.  Instead  of  "  half  an  arm-chair,"  we  find,  besides  other  chairs 
lined  with  velvet,  two  arm-chairs  especially  destined  to  the  emperor's  service. 
One  of  these  was  of  a  peculiar  construction,  and  was  accommodated  with  no 
less  than  six  cushions  and  a  foot-stool,  for  the  repose  of  his  gouty  limbs.  His 
wardrobe  showed  a  similar  attention  to  his  personal  comfort.  For  one  item  we 
find  no  less  than  sixteen  robes  of  silk  and  velvet,  lined  with  ermine  or  eider- 
down or  the  soft  hair  of  the  Barbary  goat.  The  decorations  of  his  apartment 
were  on  not  merely  a  comfortable,  but  a  luxurious  scale :  canopies  of  velvet ; 
carpets  from  Turkey  and  Alcaraz ;  suits  of  tapestry,  of  which  twenty-five 
pieces  are  specified,  richly  wrought  with  figures  of  flowers  and  animals. 
Twelve  hangings,  of  the  finest  black  cloth,  were  for  the  emperor's  bedchamber, 
which,  since  his  mother's  death,  had  been  always  dressed  in  mourning. 
Among  the  ornaments  of  his  rooms  were  four  large  clocks  of  elaborate  work- 
manship. He  had  besides  a  number  of  pocket-watches,  then  a  greater  rarity 
than  at  present.  He  was  curious  in  regard  to  his  timepieces,  and  took  care  to 
provide  for  their  regularity  by  bringing  the  manufacturer  of  them  in  his  train 
to  Yuste.  Charles  was  served  on  silver.  Even  the  meanest  utensils  for  his 
kitchen  and  his  sleeping-apartment  were  of  the  same  costly  material,  amount- 
ing to  nearly  fourteen  thousand  ounces  in  weight.4 

The  inventory  contains  rather  a  meagre  show  of  books,  which  were  for  the 
most  part  of  a  devotional  character.  But  Charles's  love  of  art  was  visible  in  a 
small  but  choice  col  ection  of  paintings  which  he  brought  with  him  to  adorn 
the  walls  of  his  retreat.  Nine  of  these  were  from  the  pencil  of  Titian.  Charles 
held  the  works  of  the  great  Venetian  in  the  highest  honour,  and  was  desirous 
that  by  his  hand  his  likeness  should  be  transmitted  to  posterity.  The  emperor 
had  brought  with  him  to  Yuste  four  portraits  of  himself  and  the  empress  by 
Titian  ;  and  among  the  other  pieces  by  the  same  master  were  some  of  his  best 
pictures.  One  of  these  was  the  famous  "  Gloria,"  in  which  Charles  and  the 
empress  appear,  in  the  midst  of  the  celestial  throng,  supported  by  angels,  and 
in  an  attitude  of  humble  adoration.5  He  had  the  painting  hung  at  the  foot 
of  his  bed,  or,  according  to  another  account,  over  the  great  altar  in  the  chapel. 
It  is  said,  he  would  gaze  long  and  fondly  on  this  picture,  which  filled  him  with 
the  most  tender  recollections ;  and,  as  he  dwelt  on  the  image  of  one  who  had 
been  so  dear  to  him  on  earth,  he'may  have  looked  forward  to  his  reunion  with 
her  in  the  heavenly  mansions,  as  the  artist  had  here  depicted  him.' 

A  stairway,  or  rather  an  inclined  plane,  suited  to  the  weakness  of  Charles's 
limbs,  led  from  the  gallery  of  his  house  to  the  gardens  below.  These  were 
surrounded  by  a  high  wall,  which  completely  secluded  him  from  observation 
from  without.  The  garden  was  filled  with  orange,  citron,  and  fig  trees,  and 
various  aromatic  plants  that  grew  luxuriantly  in  the  genial  soil.  The 

*  The  reader  will  find  an  extract  from  the  They  are  evidently  the  fruit  of  a  careful  study 

Inventory  of  the  royal  jewels,  plate,  furniture,  of  the  best  authorities,  some  of  them  not  easy 

etc.,  in  Stirling's  Cloister  Life  of  Charles  the  of  access  to  the  English  student.    The  author 

Fifth  (London,  1852),  Appendix,  and  in  Pi-  has    collected  some    curious    particulars  in 

chot's  Chronique  de  Charles  -  Quint  (Paris,  respect  to  the  persons  who  accompanied  the 

1854),  p.  537,  et  seq.  emperor  in  his  retirement ;  and  on  the  whole, 

'  Mignet  has  devoted  a  couple  of  pages  to  though  he  seems  not  to  have  been  aware  of 

an  account  of  this  remarkable  picture,  of  which  the  active  interest  which    Charles  to  .k   in 

an  engraving  is  still  extant,  executed  under  public  affairs,  he  has  presented  by  far  the 

the  eyes  of  Titian  himself.  Charles-Quint,  pp.  most  complete  view  of  tbis  interesting  portion 

214,  215.  of  the  imperial  biography  that  has  yet  been 

'  Vera  y  Figueroa,  Vida  y  Heches  de  Carlos  given  to  the  world. 

V.,  p.  127.— A  writer  in  Fraser's  Magazine  for  [I  suffer  this  note  to  remain  as  originally 

April  and  May,  1851,  has  not  omitted  to  notice  •written,  before  the  publication  of  Mr.  Stirling's 

this    remarkable    picture,   in   two  elaborate  "Cloister  I/tfe"  had  revealed  him  as  the  author 

articled  on  the  cloister-life  of  Charlt  a  the  Fifth.  of  these  .-pint  d  essays,  j 


CHARLES  AT  YUSTE.  119 

emperor  had  a  taste  for  horticulture,  and  took  much  pleasure  in  tending  the 
young  plants  and  pruning  his  trees.  His  garden  afforded  him-also  the  best 
means  for  taking  exercise ;  and  in  fine  weather  he  would  walk  along  an 
avenue  of  lofty  chestnut-trees,  that  led  to  a  pretty  chapel  in  the  neighbouring 
woods,  the  ruins  of  which  may  be  seen  at  this  day.  Among  the  trees,  one  is 
pointed  out,— an  overgrown  walnut,  still  throwing  its  shade  far  and  wide  ever 
the  ground, — under  whose  branches  the  pensive  monarch  would  sit  and 
meditate  on  the  dim  future,  or  perhaps  on  the  faded  glories  of  the  past 

Charles  had  once  been  the  most  accomplished  horseman  of  his  time.  He 
had  brought  with  him  to  Yuste  a  pony  and  a  mule,  in  the  hope  of  being  able  to 
get  some  exercise  in  the  saddle.  But  the  limbs  that  had  bestrode  day  after 
day,  without  fatigue,  the  heavy  war-horse  of  Flanders  and  the  wildest  genet  of 
Andalusia,  were  unable  now  to  endure  the  motion  of  a  poor  palfrey ;  and, 
after  a  solitary  experiment  in  the  saddle  on  his  arrival  at  Yuste,  when  he 
nearly  fainted,  he  abandoned  it  for  ever.* 

There  are  few  spots  that  might  now  be  visited  with  more  interest  than  that 
which  the  great  emperor  had  selected  as  his  retreat  from  the  thorny  cares  of 
government.  And  until  within  a  few  years  the  traveller  would  have  received 
from  the  inmates  of  the  convent  the  same  hospitable  welcome  which  they  had 
always  been  ready  to  give  to  the  stranger.  But  in  1809  the  place  was  sacked 
by  the  French ;  and  the  fierce  soldiery  of  Soult  converted  the  pile,  with  its 
venerable  cloisters,  into  a  heap  of  blackened  ruins.  Even  the  collection  of 
manuscripts,  piled  up  with  so  much  industry  by  the  brethren,  did  not  escape 
the  general  doom.  The  palace  of  the  emperor,  as  the  simple  monks  loved  to 
call  his  dwelling,  had  hardly  a  better  fate,  though  it  came  from  the  hands  of 
Charles's  own  countrymen,  the  liberals  of  Cuacos.  By  these  patriots  the 
lower  floor  of  the  mansion  was  turned  into  stables  for  their  horses.  The  rooms 
above  were  used  as  magazines  for  grain.  The  mulberry-leaves  were  gathered 
from  the  garden  to  furnish  material  for  the  silk-worm,  who  was  permitted  to 
wind  his  cocoon  in  the  deserted  chambers  of  royalty.  Still,  the  great  features 
of  nature  remain  the  same  as  in  Charles's  day.  The  bald  peaks  of  the  sierra 
still  rise  above  the  niins  of  the  monastery.  The  shaggy  siaes  of  the  hills  still 
wear  their  wild  forest  drapery.  Far  below,  the  eye  of  the  traveller  ranges 
over  the  beautiful  Vera  of  rlasencia,  which  glows  in  the  same  exuberant 
vegetation  as  of  yore ;  and  the  traveller,  as  he  wanders  among  the  ruined 
porticos  and  desolate  arcades  of  the  palace,  drinks  in  the  odours  of  a  thousand 
aromatic  plants  and  wild  flowers  that  have  shot  up  into  a  tangled  wilderness, 
where  once  was  the  garden  of  the  imperial  recluse. 

Charles,  though  borne  across  the  mountains  in  a  litter,  had  suffered  greatly 
in  his  long  and  laborious  journey  from  Valladolid.  He  passed  some  time  in 
the  neighbouring  village  of  Xarandilla,  and  thence,  after  taking  leave  of  the 

'  Kanduval.  Hint,  de  Carlos  V.,  torn.  II.  p.  spirit  of  the  mighty  dead  seemed  to  rule  again 

610. — Siguenca,  Historia  de  la  Orden  de  San  in  bis  last  home.    A  few  lines  from  the  pagrs 

Oeronimo  (Madrid.  1595-160S),   |*rte  ill.  p.  of  the  Knglish  tourist  will  bring  the  scene 

190. — Kurd,  Handbook  of  Spain  (London,  1845).  more  vividly  before  the  reader  than  the  colder 

&551. — Of   the    above    authorities.    Father  description   In   the  text:  "As  the  windows 

guenc*  has  furnished  the  best  account  of  the  were  thrown  wMe  open  to  admit  the  co<>l 

emperor  s  little  domain  as  it  was  in  his  day,  thyme-scented   breexe,  the  eye  in  the  clear 

ami  Kurd  as  It  is  in  our  own.  evening  swept  over  the  boundless  valley,  and 

*  Seethe  eloquent  conclusion  of  Stirling's  the  nightingales  sang  sweetly.  In  the  neglected 

Cloister  l.ilc  of  Charles  the  Fifth — Kord,  in  uis  orange-garden,  to  the  bright  start  refit-tied  like 

admirable  Handbook,  which  may  serve  an  a  diamonds  in  the  black  tank  below  us.     How 

manual  for  the  student  of  Spanish  In  In-  closet,  often  had  Charles  looked  out,  on  a  stilly  eve, 

quite  as  well  as  for  the  traveller  in  Spain,  has  on  this  self-same  and  unchange-l  scene,  wb»  re 

<fi  voted  a  few  columns  to  a  visit  which  he  paid  he  alone  wan  now  wanting  !  "     Handbook  of 

to  this  sequestered  spot,  where,  as  be  says,  tli :  Spain,  p.  653. 


120  LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

greater  part  of  his  weeping  retinue,  he  proceeded  with  the  remainder  to  the 
monastery  of  Yuste.  It  was  on  the  third  of  February,  1557,  that  he  entered 
the  abode  which  was  to  prove  his  final  resting-place.'  The  monks  of  Yuste 
had  been  much  flattered  by  the  circumstance  of  Charles  having  shown  such  a 
preference  for  their  convent.  As  he  entered  the  chapel,  Te  Deum  was 
chanted  by  the  whole  brotherhood ;  and  when  the  emperor  had  prostrated 
himself  before  the  altar,  the  monks  gathered  round  him,  anxious  to  pay  him 
their  respectful  obeisance.  Charles  received  them  graciously,  and,  after 
examining  his  quarters,  prof  essed  himself  well  pleased  with  the  accommodations 
prepared  for  him.  His  was  not  a  fickle  temper.  Slow  in  forming  his  plans, 
he  was  slower  in  changing  them.  To  the  last  day  of  his  residence  at  Yuste,— 
whatever  may  have  been  said  to  the  contrary, — he  seems  to  have  been  well 
satisfied  with  the  step  he  had  taken  and  with  the  spot  he  had  selected. 

From  the  first,  he  prepared  to  conform,  as  far  as  his  health  would  permit, 
to  the  religious  observances  of  the  monastery.  Not  that  he  proposed  to  limit 
himself  to  the  narrow  circumstances  of  an  ordinary  friar.  The  number  of  his 
retinue  that  still  remained  with  him  was  at  least  fifty,  mostly  Flemings  ;  '•  a 
number  not  greater,  certainly,  than  that  maintained  by  many  a  private  gentle- 
man of  the  country.  But  among  these  we  recognize  those  officers  of  state  who 
belong  more  properly  to  a  princely  establishment  than  to  the  cell  of  the 
recluse.  There  was  the  major-domo,  the  almoner,  the  keeper  of  the  wardrobe, 
the  keeper  of  the  jewels,  the  chamberlains,  two  watchmakers,  several  secretaries, 
the  physician,  the  confessor,  besides  cooks,  confectioners,  bakers,  brewers, 
game-keepers,  and  numerous  valets.  Some  of  these  followers  seem  not  to  have 
been  quite  so  content  as  their  master  with  their  secluded  way  of  life,  and  to 
have  cast  many  a  longing  look  to  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  the  world  they 
had  left  behind  them.  At  least  such  were  the  feelings  of  Quixada,  the 
emperor's  major-domo,  in  whom  he  placed  the  greatest  confidence,  and  who 
had  the  charge  of  his  household.  "  His  majesty's  bedroom,"  writes  the 
querulous  functionary,  "  is  good  enough ;  but  the  view  from  it  is  poor, — 
barren  mountains,  covered  with  rocks  and  stunted  oaks  ;  a  garden  of  moderate 
size,  with  a  few  straggling  orange  trees  ;  the  roads  scarcely  passable,  so  steep 
and  stony ;  the  only  water,  a  torrent  rushing  from  the  mountains ;  a  dreary 
solitude  ! "  The  low,  cheerless  rooms,  he  predicts,  must  necessarily  be  damp, 
boding  no  good  to  the  emperor's  infirmity.  l  "As  to  the  friars,"  observes  the 
secretary,  Gaztelu,  in  the  same  amiable  mood, "  please  God  that  his  majesty  may 
be  able  to  tolerate  them, — which  will  be  no  easy  matter ;  for  they  are  an 
importunate  race."  12  It  is  evident  that  Charles's  followers  would  have  been 

*  Carta  de  Martin  de  Gaztelu  al  Secretario  sea  por  un  camino  estrecho  y  lleno  de  pledra. 

Vazquez,  5  de  Febrero,  1557,  MS.  Rio  yo  no  vi  ninguno,  sino  un  golpe  de  agua 

10  Their  names  and  vocations  are  specified  que  baza  de  la  montana :  huerta  en  casa  ay 
in  the  codicil  executed  by  Charles  a  few  days  Una  pequena  y  de  pocos  naranjos.  ...  El 
before  his  death.  See  the  document  entire,  aposento  baxo  no  es  nada  alegre,  sino  muy 
»p.  Sandoval,  Hist,  de  Carlos  V.,  torn.  ii.  p.  triste,  y  como  es  tan  baxo,  creo  seri  humido. 
662. — A  more  satisfactory  list  has  been  made  .  .  .  Esto  es  lo  que  me  parece  del  aposento  y 
out  by  the  indefatigable  Gachard  from  various  sitio  de  la  ca.*a  y  grandissima  soledad."  Carta 
documents  which  he  collected,  and  which  have  de  Luis  Quixada  ti  Juan  Vazque/,  30  de  No- 
furnished  him  with  the  means  of  correcting  viembre,  1556,  MS.— The  major-domo  con- 
the  orthography  of  Sandoval,  miserably  deft-  eludes  by  requesting  Vazquez  not  to  show  it 
cient  in  respect  to  Flemish  names.  See  Re-  to  his  mistress,  Joanna,  the  regent,  as  he 
traite  et  Mort  de  Charles-Quint,  torn.  i.  p.  1.  would  not  be  thought  to  run  counter  to  the 

"  "  Las  vistas  de  las  piec.as  de  su  magestad  wishes  of  the  emperor  in  any ihing. 

no  son  muy  largas,  sino  cortas,  y  las  que  se  '*  "  Plegue  a  Dios  que  los  pueda  snfrir,  que 

veen,  6  es  una  montana  de  piedras  grandes,  6  no  sera  poco,  segun  guelen  ser  todos  muy 

unos  monies  de  robles  no  muy  altos,     Camno  importunes,  y  mas  los  que  saben  menos." 

llano  no  le  ay,  ni  como  podesse  pascar,  que  Carta  de  Martin  de  Gaztelu,  MS 


HIS  MODE  OF  LIFE.  121 

very  willing  to  exchange  the  mortifications  of  the  monastic  life  for  the  good 
cheer  and  gayety  of  Brussels. 

The  worthy  prior  of  the  convent,  in  addressing  Charles,  greeted  him  with 
the  title  of  pateniidad,  till  one  of  the  fraternity  suggested  to  him  the  pro- 
priety of  substituting  that  of  magestad.1*  Indeed,  to  this  title  Charles  nad 
good  right,  for  he  was  still  emperor.  His  resignation  of  the  imperial  crown, 
which,  after  a  short  delay,  had  followed  that  of  the  Spanish,  had  not  taken 
effect,  in  consequence  of  the  diet  not  being  in  session  at  the  time  when  his 
envoy,  the  prince  of  Orange,  was  to  have  presented  himself  at  Ratisbon,  in 
the  spring  of  1557.  The  war  with  France  made  Philip  desirous  that  his 
father  should  remain  lord  of  Germany  for  some  time  longer.  It  was  not, 
therefore,  until  more  than  a  year  after  Charles's  arrival  at  Yuste  that  the 
resignation  was  accepted  by  the  diet,  at  Frankfort,  on  the  twenty-eighth  of 
February,  1558.  Charles  was  still  emperor,  and  continued  to  receive  the 
imperial  title  in  all  his  correspondence.14 

We  have  pretty  full  accounts  of  the  manner  in  which  the  monarch  employed 
his  time.  He  attended  mass  every  morning  in  the  chapel,  when  his  health 
permitted.  Mass  was  followed  by  dinner,  which  he  took  early  and  alone,  pre- 
ferring this  to  occupying  a  seat  in  the  refectory  of  the  convent  He  was  fond 
of  carving  for  himself,  though  his  gouty  fingers  were  not  always  in  the  best 
condition  for  this  exercise.1*  His  physician  was  usually  in  attendance  during 
the  repast,  and  might,  at  least,  observe  how  little  his  patient,  who  had  not 
the  virtue  of  abstinence,  regarded  his  prescriptions.  The  Fleming,  Van  Male, 
tiie  emperor's  favourite  gentleman  of  the  chamber,  was  also  not  unfrequently 
present.  He  was  a  good  scholar  ;  and  his  discussions  with  the  doctor  served 
to  beguile  the  tediousness  of  their  master's  solitary  meal.  The  conversation 
frequently  turned  on  some  subject  of  natural  history,  of  which  the  emperor 
was  fond ;  and  when  the  parties  could  not  agree,  the  confessor,  a  man  of 
learning,  was  called  in  to  settle  the  dispute. 

After  dinner, — an  important  meal,  which  occupied  much  time  with  Charles, 
— he  listened  to  some  passages  from  a  favourite  theologian.  In  his  worldly 
days,  the  reading  he  most  affected  was  Cpmines's  account  of  King  Louis  the 
Eleventh," — a  prince  whose  maxim,  "Qui  nescit dissimulare,  nescit  regnare" 
was  too  well  suited  to  the  genius  of  the  emperor.  He  now,  however,  sought  a 
safer  guide  for  his  spiritual  direction,  and  would  listen  to  a  homily  from  the 
pages  of  St.  Bernard,  or  more  frequently  St.  Augustine,  in  whom  he  most 
delighted.17  Towards  evening,  he  heard  a  sermon  from  one  of  his  preachers. 
Three  or  four  of  the  most  eloquent  of  the  Jeronymite  order  had  been  brought 
to  Yuste  for  his  especial  benefit.  When  he  was  not  in  condition  to  be  present 
at  the  discourse,  he  expected  to  hear  a  full  report  of  it  from  the  lips  of  his 
confessor,  Father  Juan  de  Regla.  Charles  was  punctual  in  his  attention  to 
all  the  great  fasts  and  festivals  of  the  Church.  His  infirmities,  indeed, 
excused  him  from  fasting,  but  he  made  up  for  it  by  the  severity  of  his  flagel- 
lation. In  Lent,  in  particular,  he  dealt  with  himself  so  sternly  that  the 
;  scourge  was  found  stained  with  his  blood ;  and  this  precious  memorial  of  his 

"  "LUtnando  at  Kmnerador  paternidad,  tonla  Imenas  nl  desombueltas  lax  manon,  ni 

do  que  luego  fue  advenldo  <le  otro  frayle  qne  lo»  dientes."    Slguen;a,  Order)  de  San  Gero- 

««lava  4  su  laUo,  y  acivlio  oun  magtttad."  niinn.  parte  ill.  p.  193. 

Carta  d«  Martin  de  Uaztelu,  MS.  '•  De  Thou,  ili-t.  univenelle,  torn.  ill.  p. 

"  "  Kmperador  wmper  auguato  de  Alema-  293. 

nia."  "  "Qnnndo  comla,   leya  el  confesor   un« 

'•  Ilia  teeth  seem  t<>  have  been  In  harlly  lecclun  de  Sao  Augustln."   El  perfect*)  Dcsen- 

1  N  tti-r  condition  than  hi*  finger* :  ••  Kra  amlgo  gafin,  MS. 
de  cortarse  el  mistno  lo  que  com!*,  aunque  ul 


122  LATTER  BAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

piety  was  ever  cherished,  we  are  told,  by  Philip,  and  by  him  bequeathed  as 
an  heirloom  to  his  son.18 

Increasing  vigilance  in  his  own  spiritual  concerns  made  him  more  vigilant 
as  to  those  of  others,— as  the  weaker  brethren  sometimes  found  to  their  cost. 
Observing  that  some  of  the  younger  friars  spent  more  time  than  was  seemly 
in  conversing  with  the  women  who  came  on  business  to  the  door  of  the  con- 
vent, Charles  procured  an  order  to  be  passed  that  any  woman  who  ventured 
to  approach  within  two  bowshots  of  the  gate  should  receive  a  hundred  stripes." 
On  another  occasion,  his  officious  endeavour  to  quicken  the  diligence  of  one 
of  the  younger  members  of  the  fraternity  is  said  to  have  provoked  the  latter 
testily  to  exclaim,  "  Cannot  you  be  contented  with  having  so  long  turned 
the  world  upside  down,  without  coming  here  to  disturb  the  quiet  of  a  poor 
convent  ? " 

He  derived  an  additional  pleasure,  in  his  spiritual  exercises,  from  his  fond- 
ness for  music,  which  enters  so  largely  into  those  of  the  Romish  Church.  He 
sang  well  himself,  and  his  clear,  sonorous  voice  might  often  be  heard  through 
the  open  casement  of  his  bedroom,  accompanying  the  chant  of  the  monks  in 
the  chapel.  The  choir  was  made  up  altogether  of  brethren  of  the  order,  and 
Charles  would  allow  no  intrusion  from  any  other  quarter.  His  ear  was  quick 
to  distinguish  any  strange  voice,  as  well  as  any  false  note  in  the  performance, 
— on  which  last  occasion  he  would  sometimes  pause  in  his  devotions,  and.  in 
half-suppressed  tones,  give  vent  to  his  wrath  by  one  of  those  scurrilous 
epithets  which,  however  they  may  have  fallen  in  with  the  habits  of  the  old 
campaigner,  were  but  indirFerently  suited  to  his  present  way  of  life.** 

Such  time  as  was  not  given  to  his  religious  exercises  was  divided  among 
various  occupations,  for  which  he  had  always  had  a  relish,  though  hitherto 
but  little  leisure  to  pursue  them.  Besides  his  employments  in  his  garden,  he 
had  a  decided  turn  for  mechanical  pursuits.  Some  years  before,  while  in 
Germany,  he  had  invented  an  ingenious  kind  of  carriage  for  his  own  accom- 
modation.11 He  brought  with  him  to  Yuste  an  engineer  named  Torriano, 
famous  for  the  great  hydraulic  works  he  constructed  in  Toledo.  With  the 
assistance  of  this  man,  a  most  skilful  mechanician,  Charles  amused  himself 
by  making  a  variety  of  puppets  representing  soldiers,  who  went  through  mili- 

"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belglco,  torn.  i.  p.  15. —  doe  tiros  de  ballesta  del  Munasterlo."    Sando- 

Vera  y  Figueroa,  Viday  Hechos  de  Carlos  V.,  val,  Hist,  de  Carlos  V.,  torn  ii.  p.  612;  and 

p.   123. — Siguencja,  Orden  de  San  Geronimo,  Saudoval's  double,  Valparayso,   El  perfecto 

parte  iii.  p.  195. — The  last  writer  is  minute  in  Desengafio,  MS. 

bis  notice  of  the  imperial  habits  and  occupa-  *°  "  Si  alguno  se  errava  dezla  consign  mis- 
lions  at  Yu*te.  Siguen$a  was  prior  of  the  mo :  O  hideputa  bermejo,  que  aquel  erro,  6 
Escorial ;  and  in  that  palace-monastery  of  the  otro  nombre  semejante."  Sandoval,  Hist,  de 
Jeronymites  he  must  have  had  the  means  of  Carlos  V.,  torn.  ii.  p.  613.— I  will  not  offend 
continually  conversing  with  several  of  his  ears  polite  by  rendering  it  in  Knitli.-h  into 
brethren  who  had  been  with  Charles  in  his  corresponding  Billingsgate.  It  is  hut  fair  to 
retirement.  His  work,  which  appealed  at  the  state  that  the  author  of  the  Perfecto  Desengnno 
beginning  of  the  following  century,  has  be-  puts  no  such  irreverent  expression  into 
come  rare, — so  rare  that  M.  Gachard  was  Charles's  mouth.  Both,  however,  profess  to 
obliged  to  content  himself  with  a  few  manu-  follow  the  MS.  of  the  Prior  Angulo. 
script  extracts,  from  the  difficulty  of  procuring  "'  "Non  aspernatnr  exercitationes  campes- 
the  printed  original.  I  was  fonunate  enough  tres,  in  quern  usum  paratatn  babel  tormenta- 
to  obtain  a  copy,  and  a  very  fine  one,  through  riam  rhedam,  ad  essedi  speciem,  prsecelleml 
my  booksellere,  Messrs.  Rich  Brothers,  arte,  et  miro  studio  proximi*  hisce  menoibus 
London, — worthy  sons  of  a  sire  who  for  thirty  a  se  constructam."  Lettres  sur  la  Vie  inte- 
years  or  more  stood  pre-eminent  for  sagacity  rieure  de  1'Empereur  Charles-Quint,  ecrites 
and  diligence  among  the  collectors  of  rare  and  par  Guillaume  van  Male,  gentilhomme  de  sa 
valuable  books  cbam'>re,  et  publiees,  pour  la  premiere  fois, 

19  "Mando  pregonar  en  los  lugares  comar-  par  le  Baron  de  Reifienberg  (Bruxelles,  1843, 

canos  que  so  penadecien  acoteB  mugeralguna  4  to),  ep.  8. 
no  passasse  de  un  humilladero  que  estasa  como 


HIS  MODE  OF  LIFE.  123 

tary  exercises.  The  historian  draws  largely  on  our  faith,  by  telling  us  also  of 
little  wooden  birds  which  the  ingenious  pair  contrived,  so  as  to  fly  in  and  out 
of  the  window  before  the  admiring  monks ! "  But  nothing  excited  their 
astonishment  so  much  as  a  little  handmill,  used  for  grinding  wheat,  which 
turned  out  meal  enough  in  a  single  day  to  support  a  man  for  a  week  or  more. 
The  good  fathers  thought  this  savoured  of  downright  necromancy ;  and  it 
may  nave  furnished  an  argument  against  the  unfortunate  engineer  in  the 
persecution  which  he  afterwards  underwent  from  the  Inquisition. 

Charles  took,  moreover,  great  interest  in  the  mechanism  of  timepieces.  He 
had  a  good  number  of  clocks  and  watches  ticking  together  in  his  apartments  ; 
and  a  story  has  obtained  credit  that  the  difficulty  he  found  in  making  any 
two  of  them  keep  the  same  time  drew  from  him  an  exclamation  on  the  folly 
of  attempting  to  bring  a  number  of  men  to  think  alike  in  matters  of  religion, 
when  he  could  not  regulate  any  two  of  his  timepieces  so  as  to  make  them 
agree  with  each  other, — a  philosophical  reflection  for  which  one  will  hardly 
give  credit  to  the  man  who  with  his  dying  words  could  press  on  his  son  the 
maintenance  of  the  Inquisition  as  the  great  bulwark  of  the  Catholic  faith. 
In  the  gardens  of  Yuste  there  is  still,  or  was  lately,  to  be  seen  a  sun-dial  con- 
structed by  Torrianp  to  enable  his  master  to  measure  more  accurately  the 
lapse  of  time  as  it  glided  away  in  the  monotonous  routine  of  the  monastery.1* 

Though  averse  to  visits  of  curiosity  or  idle  ceremony,*4  Charles  consented 
to  admit  some  of  the  nobles  whose  estates  lay  in  the  surrounding  country, 
and  who,  with  feelings  of  loyal  attachment  to  their  ancient  master,  were 
anxious  to  pay  their  respects  to  him  in  his  retirement.  But  none  who  found 
their  way  into  his  retreat  appear  to  have  given  him  so  much  satisfaction  as 
Francisco  Borja,  duke  of  Gandia,  in  later  times  placed  on  the  roll  of  her  saints 
by  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  Like  Charles,  he  had  occupied  a  brilliant 
eminence  in  the  world,  and  like  him  had  found  the  glory  of  this  world  but 
vanity.  In  the  prime  of  life  he  withdrew  from  the  busy  scenes  in  which  he 
had  acted,  and  entered  a  college  of  Jesuits.  By  the  emperor's  invitation, 
Borja  made  more  than  one  visit  to  Yuste ;  and  Charles  found  much  consola- 
tion in  his  society  and  in  conversing  with  his  early  friend  on  topics  of  engross- 
ing interest  to  both.  The  result  of  their  conferences  was  to  confirm  them 
both  in  the  conviction  that  they  had  done  wisely  in  abjuring  the  world  and  in 
dedicating  themselves  to  the  service  of  Heaven. 

The  emperor  was  also  visited  by  his  two  sisters,  the  dowager  queens  of 
France  and  Hungary,  who  had  accompanied  their  brother,  as  we  have  seen, 
on  his  return  to  Spam.  But  the  travelling  was  too  rough,  and  the  accommo- 
dations at  Yuste  too  indifferent,  to  encourage  the  royal  matrons  to  prolong 
their  stay,  or,  with  one  exception  on  the  part  of  the  queen  of  Hungary,  to 
repeat  their  visit 

lint  an  object  of  livelier  interest  to  the  emperor  than  either  of  his  sisters 
was  a  boy^  scarcely  twelve  years  of  age,  who  resided  in  the  family  of  his  major- 
domo,  Quixada,  in  the  neighbouring  village  of  Cuacos.  This  was  Don  John 
of  Austria,  as  he  was  afterwards  called,  the  future  hero  of  Lepanto.  He  was 
the  natural  son  of  Charles,  a  fact  known  to  no  one  during  the  father's  life 
time,  except  Quixada,  who  introduced  the  boy  into  the  convent  as  his  own 
page.  The  lad,  at  this  early  age,  showed  many  gleams  of  that  generous  spirit 
bv  which  he  was  afterwards  distinguished,— thus  solacing  the  declining  years 

"  Intcnluni    UgncoB   paiwcrctilofi  emiMt  "  ••  A  ncmlne,  ne  •  prooerlluiii   quidmi 

cublculo  volatile*  revolant^jquc."    Strati*,  DC  quacutnquc  rx  cnusa  w  ailiri,  nut  conveniri, 

Bollo  IVlRlro,  torn.  i.  p.  IS.  nl«l  «>pro  n<ln  <xhmi  patlcbatur."    Scpulvid* 

"  Ford,  Handbook  of  Spain,  p.  652.  Opera,  toni.  11.  p.  Ml. 


124  LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

of  his  parent,  and  affording  a  hold  for  those  affections  which  might  have 
withered  in  the  cold  atmosphere  of  the  cloister. 

Strangers  were  sure  to  be  well  received  who,  coming  from  the  theatre  of 
war,  could  furnish  the  information  he  so  much  desired  respecting  the  condition 
of  things  abroad.  Thus,  we  find  him  in  conference  with  an  officer  arrived 
from  the  Low  Countries,  named  Spinosa,  and  putting  a  multitude  of  questions 
respecting  the  state  of  the  army,  the  organization  and  equipment  of  the 
different  corps,  and  other  particulars,  showing  the  lively  interest  taken  by 
Charles  in  the  conduct  of  the  campaign." 

It  has  been  a  common  opinion  that  the  emperor,  after  his  retirement  to 
Yuste,  remained  as  one  buried  alive,  totally  cut  off  from  intercourse  with  the 
world, — "  as  completely  withdrawn  from  the  business  of  the  kingdom  and  the 
concerns  of  government,"  says  one  of  his  biographers,  "  as  if  he  had  never 
taken  part  in  them  ; "  *'  "  so  entirely  abstracted  in  his  solitude,"  says  another 
contemporary,  "  that  neither  revolutions  nor  wars,  nor  gold  arriving  in  heaps 
from  the  Indies,  had  any  power  to  affect  his  tranquillity."  2T 

So  far  was  this  from  being  the  case  that  not  only  did  the  emperor  continue 
to  show  an  interest  in  public  affairs,  but  he  took  a  prominent  part,  even  from 
the  depths  of  his  retreat,  in  the  management  of  them.28  Philip,  who  had  the 
good  sense  to  defer  to  the  long  experience  and  the  wisdom  of  his  father,  con- 
sulted him  constantly  on  great  questions  of  public  policy.  And  so  far  was  he 
from  the  feeling  of  jealousy  often  imputed  to  him  that  we  find  him  on  one 
occasion,  when  the  horizon  looked  particularly  dark,  imploring  the  emperor  to 
leave  his  retreat,  and  to  aid  him  not  only  by  his  counsels,  but  by  his  presence 
and  authority.*9  The  emperor's  daughter  Joanna,  regent  of  Castile,  from  her 
residence  at  Valladolid,  only  fifty  leagues  from  Yuste,  maintained  a  constant 
correspondence  with  her  father,  soliciting  his  advice  in  the  conduct  of  the 
government  However  much  Charles  may  have  felt  himself  relieved  from 
responsibility  for  measures,  he  seems  to  have  been  as  anxious  for  the  success 
of  Philip's  administration  as  if  it  had  been  his  own.  "Write  more  fully,"  says 
one  of  his  secretaries  in  a  letter  to  the  secretary  of  the  regent's  council :  "  the 
emperor  is  always  eager  to  hear  more  particulars  of  events."  **  He  showed 
the  deepest  concern  in  the  conduct  of  the  Italian  war.  He  betrayed  none  of 
the  scruples  manifested  by  Philip,  but  boldly  declared  that  the  war  with  the 
pope  was  a  just  war  in  the  sight  of  both  God  and  man.  When  letters  came 

"  "  Le  hizo  mas  preguntas  que  se  pndieran  "  It  is  singular  that  Sepulveda,  who  visited 

hazer  &  It,  donzella  Theodor,  de  que  todo  di6  Charles  in  his  retreat,  should  have  been  the 

buena  razon  y  de  lo  que  vi6  y  oyo  en  Francia,  only  historian,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  who 

provisiones  de  oMspados,  cargo's  de  Italia,  y  recognized  the  truth  of  this  feet,  so  perfectly 

de  la  infanteria  y  caballeria.  at  tilleria,  gasta-  established  by  the  letters  from  Yuste :  "  Sum- 

doree,  annas  de  mano  y  de  otras  cosas."  Carta  mis  enim  rebus,  ut  tie  bello  et  pace  se  consult, 

de  Martin  de  Gaztelu  &  Juan  Vazquez,  18  de  deque  fratris,  liberorum  et  sororum  salute,  et 

Mayo,  1558,  MS.  statu  rerum  certiorem  fieri  non  recusabat." 

"•  "Retirose  tanto  de  los  negocios  del  Reyno  Opera,  torn.  ii.  p.  541. 

y  cosas  de  govierno,  como  si  jamas  uviera  '•"  "Supplicando  con  toda  humildad  e  in- 

tenido  parte  en  ellos."     Sandoval,  Hist,  de  stancia  &  su  Magestad    tenga  por  bien  de 

Carlos  V.,  torn.  ii.  p.  614.— See  also  Valparayso  esforzarse  en  esta  coyuntnra,  socorriendome  y 

(El  perfecto  Desengafio,  MS.),  who  uses  the  ayudandome,  no  solo  con  su  parecer  y  consejo 

same  words,  probably  copying  Angulo,  unless,  que  es  el  mayor  caudal  que  pnedo  tener,  pero 

Indeed,  we  suppose  him  to  have  stolen  from  con  la  presencia  de  su  persona  y  autoridad, 

Sandoval.  saliendo  del  monasterio,  d  la  parte  y  lugar  que 

•'  "Ut  neque  aurum,  quod  ingenti  copia  mascomodoseaisnsalud."   Retiro, Estancia, 

per  id  tempns  Hispana  classis  illi  advexit  ab  etc.,  ap.  Mignet,  Charles-Quint,  p.  256,  note. 

India,  neqne  strepitus  bellorum,  .  .  .  quid-  •"•"  "Siempre,  en  estas  cosas,  pregunta  si  no 

quam  potuerint  animmn  ilium  flectere,  tot  hay  mas."    Carta  de  Martin  de  Gaztelu  ii  Juan 

retro  annis  assuetum  armorum  sono."  Strada,  Vazquez,  8  de  Noviembre,  1556,  MS, 
i>e  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  14. 


HIS  INTEREST  IN  PUBLIC  AFFAIRS.  125 

from  abroad,  he  was  even  heard  to  express  his  regret  that  they  brought  no 
tidings  of  Paul's  death,  or  Caraffa's ! "  He  was  sorely  displeased  with  the 
truce  which  Alva  granted  to  the  pontiff,  intimating  a  regret  that  he  had  not 
the  reins  still  in  Ms  own  hand.  He  was  yet  more  discontented  with  the 
peace,  and  the  terms  of  it,  both  public  and  private ;  and  when  Alva  talked 
of  leaving  Naples,  his  anger,  as  his  secretary  quaintly  remarks,  was  "  more 
than  was  good  for  his  health."  ** 

The  same  interest  he  showed  in  the  French  war.  The  loss  of  Calais  filled 
him  with  the  deepest  anxiety.  But  in  his  letters  on  the  occasion,  instead  of 
wasting  his  time  in  idle  lament,  he  seems  intent  only  on  devising  in  what  way 
he  can  best  serve  Philip  in  his  distress.3*  In  the  same  proportion  he  was 
elated  by  the  tidings  of  the  victory  of  St.  Quentin.  His  thoughts  turned 
upon  Paris,  and  he  was  eager  to  learn  what  road  his  son  had  taken  after  the 
battle.  According  to  Brantome,  on  hearing  the  news,  he  abruptly  asked, 
"  Is  Philip  at  Pans  ? "  He  judged  of  Philip^  temper  by  his  own.*4 

At  another  time,  we  find  him  conducting  negotiations  with  Navarre ;  *4  and 
then,  again,  carrying  on  a  correspondence  with  his  sister,  the  regent  of  Por- 
tugal, for  the  purpose  of  having  his  grandson,  Carlos,  recognized  as  heir  to  the 
crown  in  case  of  the  death  of  the  young  king,  his  cousin.  The  scheme  failed, 
for  it  would  be  as  much  as  her  life  was  worth,  the  regent  said,  to  engage  in  it 
But  it  was  a  bold  one,  that  of  bringing  under  the  same  sceptre  these  two 
nations,  which,  by  community  of  race,  language,  and  institutions,  would  seem 
by  nature  to  nave  been  designed  for  one.  It  was  Charles's  comprehensive 
idea ;  and  it  proves  that  even  in  the  cloister  the  spirit  of  ambition  had  not 
become  extinct  in  his  bosom.  How  much  would  it  have  rejoiced  that  ambi- 
tious spirit  could  he  have  foreseen  that  the  consummation  so  much  desired  by 
him  would  be  attained  under  Philip  !  ** 

But  the  department  which  especially  engaged  Charles's  attention  in  his 
retirement,  singularly  enough,  was  the  financial  "  It  has  been  my  constant 

"  "  Del  Papa  y  de  Caraffa  Be  siente  aqui  mission  Is  given  by  Cienfuegos,  Vids  de  S. 

qne  no  baya  llegado  la  nueva  de  qne  RC  ban  Francisco  de  Borja  (Barcelona,  1754),  p.  269. 

inuerto."    Carta  de  Martin  de  Gaztelu  &  Joan  The    person    employed  by  Charles    in   this 

Vazquez,  8  de  Noviembre,  1556,  MS.  delicate  business  was  no  other  than  bis  friend 

"  "Sobre  que  su  magestad  dizo  algnnas  Francisco  Borja,  the  ex-dnke  of  Gandta,  who, 

cosas  con  mas  colera  de  la  que  para  su  salud  like  himself,  bad  sought  a  retreat  from  the 

oonvlene."    Carta  de   Martin  de  Gaztelu  u  world  in  the  shades  of  tbe  cloister.     Tbe 

Juan  Vazquez,  10  de  Enero,  1558,  MS.  biographers   who   record  the    miracles  and 

"  See,  In  particular,  Carta  del  Emperador  ii  miraculous  virtues  of  the  sainted  Jesuit  bestow 

Su  Alteza,  4  de  Febrero,  165S,  MS.  several  chapters  on  his  visits  to  Yuste.     His 

'•  Brantome,    (Euvrea,   torn.    I.    p.    11. —  conversations  with  the  emperor  are  reported 

Whether  Charles  actually  made  tbe  remark  or  with  a  minuteness  that  Boswell  might  have 

not,  it  is  clear  from  a  letter  in  tbe  Gonzalez  envied,   and   which  may  well    provoke  our 

collection  that  this  was  uppermost  In   his  skepticism,  unless  we  suppose  them  to  have 

thoughts:  "Su  Magestad  tenla  gran  deseo  de  been  reported  by  Borja  himself.     One  topic 

saber  qne  partidotomaba  el  reyBuhljodespues  much  discussed  in  them  was  the  merits  of  the 

de  la  victoria,  y  que  estaba  Impacientiseimo  <mt  r  which  Uie  emperor's  friend  bad  entered, 

formaudo  cuentas  de  que  ya  deberia  estar  sobre  It  bad  not  then  risen  to  that  eminence  which, 

Paris."    Carta  de  Quixada,  19  de  Setiembre,  under  Its  singular  discipline,  it  subsequently 

1557,  ap.  Mignet,  Charles-Quint,  p.  27». — It  U  reached;   and  Charles  would  fain  have  per- 

sintnilar  that  this  Interesting  letter  I*  neither  suaded  his  vis! lor  to  abandon  it  for  the  Jerony- 

in  M.  liachanl's  collection  nor  in  that  made  mite  society  witb  which  he  was  establish**!, 

for  me  from  tbe  same  source*.  But  Borja  fcems  to  have  silenced,  if  not  satis- 

'•  Cartas  del  Emjx  rador  it  Juan  Vazquez,  fled,  his  royal  master,  by  arguments  which 

de  Setiembre  27  y  Octubre  31,  1557,  MS.  prove  that  his  acute  mind  already  discerned 

•"  The  emperor  intimates    his  wishes  in  the  germ  of  future  greatness  in  the  institutions 

regard  to  his  grandson's  succession  In  a  letter  of  the  new  order.— Ibid.,  pp.  273-279. — Rlba- 

ad'lressed.  at  a  later  period,  to  Philip.    (Curta  denelra.  Vita  Francisci  Borgia:  (I>al.  traits., 

del  Emperador  al  Key,  31    de  Marzo,  1553,  Autverpla?,  1698),  p.  110,  ct  seq. 
MS.)    But  a  full  account  of  tbe  Portuguese 


126  LATTER  DAYS  OP  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

care,"  he  writes  to  Philip,  "  in  all  my  letters  to  your  sister,  to  urge  the  neces- 
sity of  providing  you  with  funds,— since  I  can  be  of  little  service  to  you  in 
any  other  way." 37  His  interposition,  indeed,  seems  to  have  been  constantly 
invoked  to  raise  supplies  for  carrying  on  the  war.  This  fact  may  be  thought 
to  show  that  those  writers  are  mistaken  who  accuse  Philip  of  withholding  from 
his  father  the  means  of  maintaining  a  suitable  establishment  at  Yuste. 
Charles,  in  truth,  settled  the  amount  of  his  own  income ;  and  in  one  of  his 
letters  we  find  him  fixing  this  at  twenty  thousand  ducats,  instead  of  sixteen 
thousand,  as  before,  to  be  paid  quarterly  and  in  advance.38  That  the  payments 
were  not  always  punctually  made  may  well  be  believed,  in  a  country  where 
punctuality  would  have  been  a  miracle. 

Charles  had  more  cause  for  irritation  in  the  conduct  of  some  of  those  func- 
tionaries with  whom  he  had  to  deal  in  his  financial  capacity.  Nothing  appears 
to  have  stirred  his  bile  so  much  at  Yuste  as  the  proceedings  of  some  members 
of  the  board  of  trade  at  Seville.  "  I  have  deferred  sending  to  you,"  he  writes 
to  his  daughter,  the  regent,  "  in  order  to  see  if,  with  time,  my  wrath  would 
not  subside.  But,  far  from  it,  it  increases,  and  will  go  on  increasing  till  I 
learn  that  those  who  have  done  wrong  have  atoned  for  it.  Were  it  not  for  my 
infirmities,"  he  adds,  "  I  would  go  to  Seville  myself,  and  find  out  the  authors 
of  this  villainy  and  bring  them  to  a  summary  reckoning."3*  "The  emperor 
orders  me,"  writes  his  secretary,  Gaztelu,  "  to  command  that  the  offenders  be 
put  in  irons,  and,  in  order  to  mortify  them  the  more,  that  they  be  carried,  in 
broad  daylight,  to  Simancas.  and  there  lodged,  not  in  towers  or  chambers,  but 
in  a  dungeon.  Indeed,  sucn  is  his  indignation,  and  such  are  the  violent  and 
bloodthirsty  expressions  he  commands  me  to  use,  that  you  will  pardon  me  if 
my  language  is  not  so  temperate  as  it  might  be." 40  It  had  been  customary 
for  the  board  of  trade  to  receive  the  gold  imported  from  the  Indies,  whether 
on  public  or  private  account,  and  hold  it  for  the  use  of  the  government,  paying 
to  the  merchants  interested  an  equivalent  in  government  bonds.  The  mer- 
chants, naturally  enough,  not  relishing  this  kind  of  security  so  well  as  the 
gold,  by  a  collusion  with  some  of  the  members  of  the  board  of  trade,  had  been 
secretly  allowed  to  remove  their  own  property.  In  this  way  the  government 
was  defrauded — as  the  emperor  regarded  it — of  a  large  sum  on  which  it  had 
calculated.  This,  it  would  seem,  was  the  offence  which  had  roused  the  royal 
indignation  to  such  a  pitch.  Charles's  phlegmatic  temperament  had  ever  been 
liable  to  be  ruffled  by  these  sudden  gusts  of  passion ;  and  his  conventual 
life  does  not  seem  to  have  had  any  very  sedative  influence  on  him  in  this 
particular. 

For  the  first  ten  months  after  his  arrival  at  Yuste,  the  emperor's  health, 
under  the  influence  of  a  temperate  climate,  the  quiet  of  monastic  life,  and 
more  than  all,  probably,  his  exemption  from  the  cares  of  state,  had  generally 

"  Carta  del  Emperador  nl  Rey,  25  de  Mayo,  de  Marzo,  1557,  MS. 

I55g,  MS.— On  the  margin  of  this  letter  we  ™  Carta  del  Emperador  &  la  Princesa,  31  de 

find  the  following  memoranda  of  Philip  him-  Marzo,  1557,  MS. — The  whole  letter  is  singu- 

self,  showing  how  much  importance  he  at-  larly  characteristic  of  Charles.     Its  authori- 

tached  to   his  father's  interposition   in  this  tative  tone  shows  that,  though  he  had  parted 

matter :    "  Volverselo   A  suplicar  con  gran  with  the  crown,  he  had  not  parted  with  the 

instancia,  piles  quedaraos  in  tales  terminos  temper  of  a  sovereign,  and  of  an  absolute 

que,  si  me  ayudan  con  dinero,  los  podriamos  sovereign  too. 

atraer  a  !•>  que  conviniesse."     "  Besalle  las  "  "  Es  tal  sn  indignacion  y  tan  sangrientas 

manos  por  lo  que  en  esto  ba  mandado  y  supli-  las  palabraa  y  vehemencia  con  que   manda 

calle  lo  lleve  adelante  y  que  de  acii  se  hari  lo  escribir  a  v.  m.  que  me  disculpar<l  sino  lo 

mismo,  y  avisarle  de  lo  que  se  ban  hecho  hasta  bago  con  mas  templanija  y  m<>do."    Cai  ta  de 

agora."  Martin  de  Gaztelu  it  Juan  Vazquez,  12  de 

•"  Carta  del  Emperador  it  Juan  Vazquez,  31  Mayo,  1557,  MS. 


HIS  INTEREST  IN  PUBLIC  AFFAIRS.  127 

improved.41  His  attacks  of  gout  had  been  less  frequent  and  less  severe  than 
before.  But  in  the  spring  of  1558  the  old  malady  returned  with  renewed 
violence.  "  I  was  not  in  a  condition,"  he  writes  to  Philip,  "  to  listen  to  a 
single  sermon  during  Lent." 41  For  months  he  was  scarcely  able  to  write  a 
line  with  his  own  hand.  His  spirits  felt  the  pressure  of  bodily  suffering,  and 
were  still  further  depressed  by  the  death  of  his  sister  Eleanor,  the  queen- 
dowager  of  France  and  Portugal,  which  took  place  in  February,  1558. 

A  strong  attachment  seems  to  have  subsisted  between  the  emperor  and  his 
two  sisters.  Queen  Eleanor's  sweetness  of  disposition  had  particularly  endeared 
her  to  her  brother,  who  now  felt  her  loss  almost  as  keenly  as  that  of  one  of  his 
own  children.  "  She  was  a  good  Christian,"  he  said  to  his  secretary,  Gaztelu  ; 
and,  as  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  he  added,  "  We  have  always  loved 
each  other.  She  was  my  elder  by  fifteen  months  ;  and  before  that  period  has 
passed  I  shall  probably  be  with  her."4*  Before  half  that  period  the  sad 
augury  was  fulfilled. 

At  this  period — as  we  shall  see  hereafter— the  attention  of  the  government 
was  called  to  the  Lutheran  heresy,  which  had  already  begun  to  disclose  itself 
in  various  quarters  of  the  country.  Charles  was  possessed  of  a  full  share  of 
the  spirit  of  bigotry  which  belonged  to  the  royal  line  of  Castile,  from  which  he 
was  descended  While  on  the  throne,  this  feeling  was  held  somewhat  in 
check  by  a  regard  for  his  political  interests.  But  in  the  seclusion  of  the 
monastery  he  had  no  interests  to  consult  but  those  of  religion  ;  and  he  gave 
free  scope  to  the  spirit  of  intolerance  which  belonged  to  his  nature.  In  a 
letter  addressed,  the  third  of  May,  1558,  to  his  daughter  Joanna,  he  says, 
"  Tell  the  grand  inquisitor  from  me  to  be  at  his  post,  and  lay  the  axe  at  the 
root  of  the  evil  before  it  spreads  further.  I  rely  on  your  zeal  for  bringing 
the  guilty  to  punishment,  and  for  having  them  punished,  without  favour  to 
any  one,  with  all  the  severity  which  their  crimes  demand." 44  In  another 
letter  to  his  daughter,  three  weeks  later,  he  writes.  "  If  I  had  not  entire 
confidence  that  you  would  do  your  duty,  and  arrest  trie  evil  at  once  by  chas- 
tising the  guilty  in  good  earnest  I  know  not  how  I  could  help  leaving  the 
monastery  and  taking  the  remedy  into  my  own  hands." 4*  Thus  did  Charles 
make  his  voice  heard  from  his  retreat  among  the  mountains,  and  by  his 
efforts  and  influence  render  himself  largely  responsible  for  the  fiery  per- 
secution which  brought  woe  upon  the  land  after  he  himself  had  gone  to  his 
account. 

About  the  middle  of  August  the  emperor's  old  enemy,  the  gout,  returned  on 
him  with  uncommon  force.  It  was  attended  with  symptoms  of  an  alarming 

41  "  Hi*  majesty  was  BO  well,"  writes  Gaz-  bnena  crintiana  la  tenla,  y  qno  le  llevaba 

teln,  early  in  the  summer  of  1S57,  "that  he  quince  meses  de  ttempo,  y  que,  segun  £1  se 

could  rise  from  his  seat,  and  support  his  ilia  ttlntiendo  de  poco  ncil,  podria  ser  que 

arquebuw,  without  aid."  He  could  wen  do  dentru  <l '  ellos  le  biclepe  compaftla."  Cart* 

some  mischief  with  bis  fowling-piece  to  the  de  Uaztelu  i  Vazquez,  21  de  Kebrero,  1558,  up. 

wood-pigeons.  Caita  de  Gaztelu  ii  Vazquez,  Gachard,  Ketraite  it  Mort,  torn.  i.  p.  370. — 

ft  de  Junto,  1557,  MS.  See  alco  Mignet,  Charles-Quint,  p.  330. 

••  "  Torque  dewle  tantos  de  novlpmbre  hasta  ••  "  Y  que  para  ello  les  dels  y  niainIHs  dar 

pocos  rtia«  ha  hame  dado  [la  gota]  tres  vezes  todo  el  favor  y  calor  que  fuerc  necesario  y  para 

y  iimy  rezio,  y  me  ha  tfnldomuchoH<llaMen  la  que  los  que  I'IHTHI  culpados  dean  punidos  y 

r.iino,  y  hct-Uidii  hasta  du  puco  acii  tan  traba-  cantigados  con  la  domostracion  y  rigor  que  la 

jado  y  flaco  que  en  toda  rsta  quaresma  no  he  calidad  de  BUS  culpas  mereceran,  y  esto  sin 

podido  oyrun  sermon,  yestoes  la  causa  porque  exception  de  persona  alguna."  Carta  del 

no  os  c-i  rilx>  esta  de  ml  mano."  Carta  del  Km  per  ado  r  it  la  1'rlnccsa,  3  de  Mayo,  1654, 

•mender  al  Key,  1  de  Abril,  l&Sft,  MS.  MS. 

"  "  SlntlAlo  clerto  murbo,  y  se  le  airasitron  "  "  No  se  si  toviera  snfrimlento  para  no 

)<*  ojos,  y  me  df jo  lo  mucho  que  el  y  la  de  sallr  de  aqul  arremediallo  "  Carla  del  Kmpe- 

Krancia  sc  hablan  slemjire  querldo,  y  por  cuan  radur  ti  la  I'rinccsa,  25  de  Mayo,  1 55H,  MS. 


128  LATTER  DAYS  OP  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

kind,  intimating,  indeed,  that  his  strong  constitution  was  giving  way.  These 
were  attributed  to  a  cola  which  he  had  taken,  though  it  seems  there  was  good 
reason  for  imputing  them  to  his  intemperate  living  ;  for  he  still  continued  to 
indulge  his  appetite  for  the  most  dangerous  dishes  as  freely  as  in  the  days 
when  a  more  active  way  of  life  had  better  enabled  him  to  digest  them.  It  is 
true,  the  physician  stood  by  his  side,  as  prompt  as  Sancho  Panza's  doctor,  in 
his  island  domain,  to  remonstrate  against  his  master's  proceedings.  But, 
unhappily,  he  was  not  armed  with  the  authority  of  that  functionary  ;  and  an 
eel-pie,  a  well-spiced  capon,  or  any  other  savoury  abomination,  offered  too  great 
a  fascination  for  Charles  to  heed  the  warnings  of  his  physician. 

The  declining  state  of  the  emperor's  health  may  have  inspired  him  with  a 
presentiment  of  his  approaching  end,  to  which,  we  have  seen,  he  gave  utterance 
some  time  before  this,  in  his  conversation  with  Gaztelu.  It  may  have  been 
the  sober  reflections  which  such  a  feeling  would  naturally  suggest  that  led 
him,  at  the  close  of  the  month  of  August,  to  conceive  the  extraordinary  idea 
of  preparing  for  the  final  scene  by  rehearsing  his  own  funeral.  He  consulted 
his  confessor  on  the  subject,  and  was  encouraged  by  the  accommodating  father 
to  consider  it  as  a  meritorious  act.  The  chapel  was  accordingly  hung  in  black, 
and  the  blaze  of  hundreds  of  wax-lights  was  not  sufficient  to  dispel  the  darkness. 
The  monks  in  their  conventual  dresses,  and  all  the  emperor's  household,  clad 
in  deep  mourning,  gathered  round  a  huge  catafalque,  shrouded  also  in  black, 
which  nad  been  raised  in  the  centre  of  the  chapel.  The  service  for  the  burial 
of  the  dead  was  then  performed  ;  and,  amidst  the  dismal  wail  of  the  monks, 
the  prayers  ascended  for  the  departed  spirit,  that  it  might  be  received  into 
the  mansions  of  the  blessed.  The  sorrowful  attendants  were  melted  to  tears, 
as  the  image  of  their  master's  death  was  presented  to  their  minds,  or  they 
were  touched,  it  may  be,  with  compassion  for  this  pitiable  display  of  his  weak- 
ness. Charles,  muffled  in  a  dark  mantle,  and  bearing  a  lighted  candle  in  his 
hand,  mingled  with  his  household,  the  spectator  of  his  own  obsequies ;  and 
the  doleful  ceremony  was  concluded  by  his  placing  the  taper  in  the  hands  of 
the  priest,  in  sign  of  his  surrendering  up  his  soul  to  the  Almighty. 

Such  is  the  account  of  this  melancholy  farce  given  us  by  the  Jeronymite 
chroniclers  of  the  cloister-life  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  which  has  since  been 
repeated — losing  nothing  in  the  repetition — by  every  succeeding  historian,  to 
the  present  time.48  Nor  does  there  seem  to  have  been  any  distrust  of  its 
correctness  till  the  historical  skepticism  of  our  own  day  had  subjected  the 
narrative  to  a  more  critical  scrutiny.  It  was  then  discovered  that  no  mention 
of  the  affair  was  to  be  discerned  in  the  letters  of  any  one  of  the  emperor's 
household  residing  at  Yuste,  although  there  are  letters  extant  written  by 
Chajles's  physician,  his  major-domo,  and  his  secretary,  both  on  the  thirty-first 
day  of  August,  the  day  of  the  funeral,  and  on  the  first  of  September.  With 
so  extraordinary  an  event  fresh  in  their  minds,  their  silence  is  inexplicable. 

One  fact  is  certain,  that,  if  the  funeral  did  take  place,  it  could  not  have 
been  on  the  date  assigned  to  it ;  for  on  the  thirty-first  the  emperor  was 
labouring  under  an  attack  of  fever,  of  which  his  physician  has  given  full  par- 

••  The  history  of  this  affair  furnishes  a  good  a  swoon  upon  the  floor.     Lastly,  Robertso1', 

example  of  the  crescit  eundo.    The  author  of  after  making   the   emperor  perform   in  his 

the  MS.  discovered  by  M.  Bakhuizen,  noticed  shroud,  lays  him  in  bis  coffin,  where,  after 

more  fully  in  the  next  note,  though  present  joining  in  the  prayers  for  the  rest  of  his  own 

at  the  ceremony,   contents  himself  with  a  soul,  not  yet  departed,  he  is  left  by  the  monks 

general  outline  of  it.     Siguenca,  who  follows  to  his  meditations !— Where  Robertson  pot  all 

next  in  time  and  in  authority,  tells  us  of  the  these  particulars  it  would  not  be  easy  to  tell; 

lighted  candle  which  Charles  delivered  to  the  certainly  not  from  the  authorities  cited  at  the 

priest.     Strada,  who  wrote  a  generation  later,  bottom  of  his  page, 
concludes  the  scene  by  leaving  the  emperor  in 


HE  CELEBRATES  HIS  OBSEQUIES.  129 

ticulars,  and  from  which  he  was  destined  never  to  recover.  That  the  writers, 
therefore,  should  have  been  silent  in  respect  to  a  ceremony  which  must  have 
had  so  bad  an  effect  on  the  nerves  of  the  patient,  is  altogether  incredible. 

Yet  the  story  of  the  obsequies  comes  from  one  of  the  Jeronymite  brethren 
then  living  at  Yuste,  who  speaks  of  the  emotions  which  he  felt,  in  common 
with  the  rest  of  the  convent,  at  seeing  a  man  thus  bury  himself  alive,  as 
it  were,  and  perform  his  funeral  rites  before  his  death.47  It  is  repeated  by 
another  of  the  fraternity,  the  prior  of  the  Escorial,  who  had  ample  means  of 
conversing  with  eye-witnesses."  And,  finally,  it  is  confirmed  by  more  than 
one  writer  near  enough  to  the  period  to  be  able  to  assure  himself  of  the 
truth.4*  Indeed,  the  parties  from  whom  the  account  is  originally  derived  were 
so  situated  that  if  the  story  be  without  foundation  it  is  impossible  to  explain 
its  existence  by  misapprehension  on  their  part.  It  must  be  wholly  charged 
on  a  wilful  misstatement  of  facts.  It  is  true,  the  monkish  chronicler  is  not 
always  quite  so  scrupulous  in  this  particular  as  would  be  desirable, — especially 
where  the  honour  of  his  order  is  implicated.  But  what  interest  could  the 
Jeronymite  fathers  have  had  in  so  foolish  a  fabrication  as  this  ?  The  sup- 
position is  at  variance  with  the  respectable  character  of  the  parties,  and  with 
the  air  of  simplicity  and  good  faith  that  belongs  to  their  narratives.4* 

We  may  well  be  staggered,  it  is  true,  by  the  fact  that  no  allusion  to  the 
obsequies  appears  in  any  of  the  letters  from  Yuste  ;  while  the  date  assigned 
for  them,  moreover,  is  positively  disproved.  Yet  we  may  consider  that  the 
misstatement  of  a  date  is  a  very  different  thing  from  the  invention  of  a  story, 
and  that  chronological  accuracy,  as  I  have  more  than  once  had  occasion  to 
remark,  was  not  the  virtue  of  the  monkish  or  indeed  of  any  other  historian  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  It  would  not  be  a  miracle  if  the  obsequies  should 
have  taken  place  some  days  before  the  period  assigned  to  them.  It  so  hap- 
pens that  we  have  no  letters  from  Yuste  between  the  eighteenth  and  the 
twenty-seventh  of  August.  At  least,  I  have  none  myself,  and  have  seen  none 
cited  by  others.  If  any  should  hereafter  come  to  light,  written  during  that 
interval,  they  may  be  found  possibly  to  contain  some  allusion  to  the  funeral. 
Should  no  letters  have  been  written  during  the  period,  the  silence  of  the 

47  "  Et  j'asmire  que  le  coeur  nous  fendait  de  shades  of  the  Escorial. 

voir  qa'un  homuie  voiilut  en  quelque  none  "  Sacb,  for  example,  were  Vera  y  Figueroa, 

s'enterrer  vivant,  et  f.ilre  ses  obseques  avant  Conde  de  la  Roca,  whose  little  volume  ap- 

de  mourir."    Gachard,  Retraite  et  \lort,  torn.  prared    in    1613;    Strata.   who   wrote    some 

i.  p.  Ivi.— M.  Gacbard  has  Riven  a  translation  twenty  years  later;  and  the  marquis  of  Val- 

of  the  chapter  relating  to  the  funeral,  from  a  parayni,   whose   MS.   is  dated    1638.     I   eay 

curious  MS.  account  of  Charles's  convent-life.  nothing  of  Sandoval,  often  quoted  as  authority 

discovered  by  M.  Rakhutzen  in  the  archives  for  the  funeral,  lor,  as  he  tolls  us  that  the 

at  Bruncels.     As  the  author  was  one  of  'he  money  which  the  emperor  proposed  to  devote 

hrotherhood  who  occupied  the  convent  at  i  li  •  to  a  mock  funeral  was  after  all  appropriated 

time  of  the  empeivr's  residence  there,  the  MS.  to  his  real  one,  it  would  seem  to  imply  that 

in  stamped  with  the  highest  authority;  and  the  former  never  ttx>k  place.— It  were  great  ly 

M.  Oachard  will  doubtless  do  a  good  service  to  be  wished  that  the  MS.  of  Fray  Martin  de 

to  letter*  by  Incorporating  It  in  the  second  Angulo  could   be  detected  and   brought    to 

volume  of  his  ••  Retraite  et  Mort."  light.     As  prior  of  Yustc  while  Charles  was 

"  Slguen;*,  Hist,  de  la  Orden  de  San  Qero-  there,    his  testimony  would    be  invaluable, 

nlmo,    parte    III.   pp.   200,  •)!.— StoOMtnfc  Both  S.mdoval  and  the  marquis  of  Valparayso 

work,  which  combine*  much  curious  learning  profess  to  have  relied   mainly  on   Angu'lo's 

with  a  simple  elegance  of  style,  was  the  fruit  authority.     Yet  in   this  very  affair    of   the 

of  many  years  of  labour.    Th»  third  volume,  funeral  they  disagree. 

containing  the  part  relating  to  the  etnperor,  *•  Siguenca's  composition  may  bo  charac- 

appeared  In  1605,  the  year  before  the  death  of  trrized  an  umplac  munditiit.     The  MS.  of  the 

Itt  author,  who,  as  already  notice;!,  ni'.nt  have  monk  of  Yunte,  found  in  Brussels,  is  stamped, 

ha«l  dally  communication  with  several  of  the  says  M.  Gachard,  with  the  character  of  slra- 

monks.  when,  after  Charles's  death,  they  had  pliclty  and  truth.     Ketraite  et  Mort,  torn.  I. 

been  transferred  from  Yusto  to  the  gloomy  p.  xx. 

K 


130  LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

parties  who  wrote  at  the  end  of  August  and  the  beginning  of  September  may  be 
explained  by  the  fact  that  too  long  a  time  had  elapsed  since  the  performance 
of  the  emperor's  obsequies  for  them  to  suppose  it  could  have  any  connection 
with  his  illness,  which  formed  the  subject  of  their  correspondence.  Difficulties 
will  present  themselves,  whichever  view  we  take  of  the  matter.  But  the 
reader  may  think  it  quite  as  reasonable  to  explain  those  difficulties  by  the 
supposition  of  involuntary  error  as  by  that  of  sheer  invention. 

Nor  is  the  former  supposition  rendered  less  probable  by  the  character 
of  Charles  the  Fifth.  There  was  a  taint  of  insanity  in  the  royal  blood  of 
Castile,  which  was  most  fully  displayed  in  the  emperor's  mother,  Joanna. 
Some  traces  of  it,  however  faint,  may  be  discerned  iii  his  own  conduct  before 
he  took  refuge  in  the  cloisters  of  Yuste.  And  though  we  may  not  agree 
with  Paul  the  Fourth  in  regarding  this  step  as  sufficient  evidence  of  his 
madness,*1  we  may  yet  find  something  in  his  conduct,  on  more  than  one 
occasion,  while  there,  which  is  near  akin  to  it.  Such,  for  example,  was  the 
morbid  relish  which  he  discovered  for  performing  the  obsequies  not  merely  of 
his  kindred,  but  of  any  one  whose  position  seemed  to  him  to  furnish  an  apology 
for  it.  Not  a  member  of  the  toison  died,  but  he  was  prepared  to  commemo- 
rate the  event  with  solemn  funeral  rites.  These,  in  snort,  seemed  to  be  the 
festivities  of  Charles's  cloister-life.  These  lugubrious  ceremonies  had  a  fascina- 
tion for  him  that  may  remind  one  of  the  tenacity  with  which  his  mother, 
Joanna,  clung  to  the  dead  body  of  her  husband,  taking  it  with  her  wherever 
she  went.  It  was  after  celebrating  the  obsequies  of  his  parents  and  his  wife, 
which  occupied  several  successive  days,  that  ne  conceived,  as  we  are  told,  the 
idea  of  rehearsing  his  own  funeral, — a  piece  of  extravagance  which  becomes 
the  more  credible  when  we  reflect  on  the  state  of  morbid  excitement  to  which 
his  mind  may  have  been  brought  by  dwelling  so  long  on  the  dreary  apparatus 
of  death. 

But,  whatever  be  thought  of  the  account  of  the  mock  funeral  of  Charles,  it 
appears  that  on  the  thirtieth  of  August  he  was  affected  by  an  indisposition 
which  on  the  following  day  was  attended  with  most  alarming  symptoms. 
Here  also  we  have  some  particulars  from  his  Jeronymite  biographers  which 
we  do  not  find  in  the  letters.  On  the  evening  of  the  thirty-first,  according 
to  their  account,  Charles  ordered  a  portrait  of  the  empress,  his  wife,  of  whom, 
as  we  have  seen,  he  had  more  than  one  in  his  collection,  to  be  brought  to  him. 
He  dwelt  a  long  while  on  its  beautiful  features,  "as  if,"  says  the  chronicler, 
"  he  were  imploring  her  to  prepare  a  place  for  him  in  the  celestial  mansions 
to  which  she  had  gone."  M  He  then  passed  to  the  contemplation  of  another 
picture, — Titian's  "  Agony  in  the  Garden,"  and  from  this  to  that  immortal 
production  of  his  pencil,  the  "Gloria,"  as  it  is  called,  which  is  said  to  have 
hung  over  the  high  altar  at  Yuste,  and  which,  after  the  emperor's  death, 
followed  his  remains  to  the  Escorial."  He  gazed  so  long  and  with  such  rapt 
attention  on  the  picture  as  to  cause  apprehension  in  his  physician,  who,  in  the 
emperor's  debilitated  state,  feared  the  effects  of  such  excitement  on  his  nerves. 
There  was  good  reason  for  apprehension  ;  for  Charles,  at  length,  rousing  from 
his  reverie,  turned  to  the  doctor  and  complained  that  he  was  ill.  His  pulse 
showed  him  to  be  in  a  high  fever.  As  the  symptoms  became  more  unfavourable, 
his  physician  bled  him,  but  without  any  good  effect.54  The  Regent  Joanna, 

51  Mignet,  Charles-Quint,  p.  1.  artist's  best  style,  forms  now  one  of  the  noblest 

52  "  Kstuvo  UH  poco  contemplandole,  devia        ornaments  of  the  Museo  of  Madrid.    See  Ford, 
de  pedirle,  que  le  previniesse  lugar  en  el        Handbook  of  Spain,  p.  758. 

Alcazar  glnrioso    que    habitava."     Vera    y  M  For  the  above  account  of  the  beginning 

Figueroa,  C  .rlos  Quinto,  p.  127.  of  Charles's  illness,  see  Siguenc.a,  Orden  de 

"  Tits   famous   picture,  painted    in    the       San  ticronimo,  parte   iii.    p.   v!01;    Vera  y 


HIS  LAST  ILLNESS.  131 

on  learning  her  father's  danger,  instantly  despatched  her  own  physician  from 
Valladolid  to  his  assistance.  But  no  earthly  remedies  could  avail  It  soon 
became  evident  that  the  end  was  approaching.58 

Charles  received  the  intelligence  not  merely  with  composure,  but  with  cheer- 
fulness. It  was  what  he  had  long  desired,  he  said.  His  first  care  was  to 
complete  some  few  arrangements  respecting  his  affairs.  On  the  ninth  of 
September  he  executed  a  codicil  to  his  will.  The  will,  made  a  few  years 
previous,  was  of  great  length,  and  the  codicil  had  not  the  merit  of  brevity. 
Its  principal  object  was  to  make  provision  for  those  who  had  followed  him  to 
Yuste.  ft  o  mention  is  made  in  the  codicil  of  his  son  Don  John  of  Austria. 
He  seems  to  have  communicated  his  views  in  regard  to  him  to  his  major-domo, 
Quixada,  who  had  a  private  interview  of  some  length  with  his  master  a  few 
days  before  his  death.  Charles's  directions  on  the  subject  appear  to  have  been 
scrupulously  regarded  by  Philip. ss 

One  clause  in  the  codicil  deserves  to  be  noticed.  The  emperor  conjures  his 
son  most  earnestly,  by  the  obedience  he  owes  him,  to  follow  up  and  bring  to 
justice  every  heretic  in  his  dominions,  and  this  without  exception  and  without 
favour  or  mercy  to  any  one.  He  conjures  Philip  to  cherish  the  Holy  Inquisi- 
tion, as  the  best  instrument  for  accomplishing  this  good  work.  "  So,  he 
concludes,  "  shall  you  have  my  blessing,  and  the  Lord  shall  prosper  all  your 
undertakings."5*  Such  were  the  last  words  of  the  dying  monarch  to  his  son. 
They  did  not  fall  on  a  deaf  ear ;  and  the  parting  admonition  of  his  father 
served  to  give  a  keener  edge  to  the  sword  of  persecution  which  Philip  had 
already  begun  to  wield. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  September,  Charles's  strength  had  declined  so  much 
that  it  was  thought  proper  to  administer  extreme  unction  to  him.  He  pre- 
ferred to  have  it  in  the  form  adopted  by  the  friars,  which,  comprehending  a 
litany,  the  seven  penitential  psalms,  and  sundry  other  passages  of  Scripture, 
was  much  longer  and  more  exhausting  than  the  rite  used  by  the  laity.  His 
strength  did  not  fail  under  it,  however ;  and  the  following  day  he  desired  to 
take  the  communion,  as  he  had  frequently  done  during  his  illness.  On  his 
confessor's  representing  that,  after  the  sacrament  of  extreme  unction,  this  was 
unnecessary,  ne  answered,  "  Perhaps  so,  but  it  is  good  provision  for  the  long 
journey  I  am  to  set  out  upon." 4*  Exhausted  as  he  was,  he  knelt  a  full  quarter 
of  an  hour  in  his  bed  during  the  ceremony,  offering  thanks  to  God  for  his 
mercies,  and  expressing  the  deepest  contrition  for  his  sins,  with  an  earnestness 
of  manner  that  touched  the  hearts  of  all  present.59 

Figuema,  Carlos  Quinto,  p.  127  ;  Valparayso,  emperor's  will,  there  could  be  no  foundation 

El  perfecto  Descnguno,  MS.  for  the  rumour:  "Ser  ansy  que  yo  tenya  un 

-  •  Vera  y  Figueroa,  Carlos  Quinto,  p.  127.  mucbacho  de  Iiun  caballero  aniygo  myo  que 

— Siguenca,  Orden  de  San  Geronlmo.  part?  ili.  me  abia  encomendado  afios  a,  y  que  pups 

p.  201. — Carta  de  l.uis  Quixada  al  Key,  17  de  S.  M.  en  BU  testamento  ni  codecilyo,  no  azia 

Setiembre,  1S58,  MS.  memorya  del,   qne  bera  raznn    tenello  por 

*•  The  Regent  Joanna,  it  seems,  (mspected,  burla."    Carta  de  Luis  Qnbtada  al  Hey,  28  de 

for  dome  reai«on  or  other,  that  the   boy  in  Noviombre,  1568,  MS. 

Qnixnta'5  care  was  in  fact  the  emperor's  iion.  "  Codicllo  del    Emperador,   «p.   Sandoval, 

A   few   weeks  after  her  father's  death   she  Hist,  dp  Carlos  V.,  toni.  ii.  p.  657. 

caused  a  letter  to  be  addressed  to  the  major-  "  "Si  Men  no  sea  necrssario  no  OB  parero, 

doino,  asking  him  directly  If  this  were  the  que    es   buena  rompania  pam  Jornada   Ian 

rase,  and  intimating  a  desire  to  make  a  suit-  larga."    Sandoval,  Hist,  de  Carlos  V.,  torn, 

able   provision    for    the   youth.     The   wary  il.  p.  617. 

functionary,   who  tells   this  in    bis    private  "'  0-aria  sobre  los  ultimo*  mementos  del 

corro«rx>ndencc  with   Philip,  endeavoured  to  F.mnerador  Carlos  V.,  escrita  en  Yuste,  el  27 

put  the  regent  off  the  scent  by  sutlng  that  de  Setiembre,  1668,  ap  Documents  in&Jitos, 

the  lad  wan  the  son  of  •  friend,  nnd  that,  as  torn.  vl.  p.  66». 
no  allusion  had  been   made  to  him  ID  the 


132  LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

Throughout  his  illness  he  had  found  consolation  in  having  passages  of 
Scripture,  especially  the  Pi  alms,  read  to  him.  Quixada,  careful  that  his 
master  should  not  oe  disquieted  in  his  last  moments,  would  allow  very  few 
persons  to  be  present  in  his  chamber.  Among  the  number  was  Bartolome  de 
Carranza,  who  had  lately  been  raised  to  the  archiepiscopal  see  of  Toledo.  He 
had  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the  persecution  in  England  under  Mary.  For 
the  remainder  of  his  life  he  was  to  be  the  victim  of  persecution  himself,  from 
a  stronger  arm  than  his, — that  of  the  Inquisition.  Even  the  words  of  consola- 
tion which  he  uttered  in  this  chamber  of  death  were  carefully  treasured  up 
by  Charles's  confessor  and  made  one  of  the  charges  against  him  in  his 
impeachment  for  heresy. 

On  the  twenty-first  of  September,  St.  MattheVs  day,  about  two  hours  after 
midnight,  the  emperor,  who  had  remained  long  without  speaking,  feeling  that 
his  hour  had  come,  exclaimed,  "  Now  it  is  time  ! "  The  holy  taper  was  placed 
lighted  in  his  right  hand,  as  he  sat  up  leaning  on  the  shoulder  of  the  faithful 
Quixada.  With  his  left  he  endeavoured  to  clasp  a  silver  crucifix.  It  had 
comforted  the  empress,  his  wife,  in  her  dying  hour  ;  and  Charles  had  ordered 
Quixada  to  hold  it  in  readiness  for  him  on  the  like  occasion.80  It  had  lain  for 
some  time  on  his  breast ;  and  as  it  was  now  held  up  before  his  glazing  eye  by 
the  archbishop  of  Toledo,  Charles  fixed  his  gaze  long  and  earnestly  on  the 
sacred  symbol, — to  him  the  memento  of  earthly  love  as  well  as  heavenly.  The 
archbishop  was  repeating  the  psalm  De  Profundis, — "  Out  of  the  depths  have 
I  cried  unto  thee,  0  Lord  ! " — when  the  dying  man,  making  a  feeble  effort  to 
embrace  the  crucifix,  exclaimed,  in  tones  so  audible  as  to  be  heard  in  the 
adjoining  room,  "  A y  Jesus  !  "  and,  sinking  back  on  the  pillow,  expired  with- 
out a  struggle.61  He  had  always  prayed — perhaps  fearing  the  hereditary  taint 
of  insanity — that  he  might  die  in  possession  of  his  faculties.62  His  prayer  was 
granted. 

The  emperor's  body,  after  being  embalmed  and  placed  in  its  leaden  coffin, 
lay  in  state  in  the  chapel  for  three  days,  during  which  three  discourses  were 
pronounced  over  it  by  the  best  preachers  in  the  convent.  It  was  then  con- 
signed to  the  earth,  with  due  solemnity,  amidst  the  prayers  and  tears  of  the 
brethren  and  of  Charles's  domestics,  in  presence  of  a  numerous  concourse  of 
persons  from  the  surrounding  country. 

The  burial  did  not  take  place,  however,  without  some  difficulty.  Charles 
had  requested  by  his  will  that  he  might  be  laid  partially  under  the  great  altar, 
in  such  a  manner  that  his  head  and  the  upper  part  of  his  body  might  come 
under  the  spot  where  the  priest  stood  when  he  performed  the  service.  This 
was  dictated  in  all  humility  by  the  emperor ;  but  it  raised  a  question  among 
the  scrupulous  ecclesiastics  as  to  the  propriety  of  permitting  any  bones  save 
those  of  a  saint  to  occupy  so  holy  a  place  as  that  beneath  the  altar.  The 

•°  Carte  de  Luis  Quixada  fi  Juan  Vazquez,  embre,  MS. — Carta  d"l  Arzobispo  de  Toledo  ;i 

25  de  Setiembre,  1558,  MS. — Carta  del  mismo  la  Princesa,  21  dp  Setiembre,  MS.— Carta  del 

al   Rey,  30  de  Setiembre,   155«,  MS.— Carte  Medico  del   Emperador  (Henrico  Matisio)  a 

del  Arzobispo  de  Toledo  &  la  Princesa,  21  de  Juan  Vazquez,  21  de  Setiembre,  MS. — Curte 

Setiembre,  1558,  MS.  sobre  los  ultimos  momentos  del  Emperador, 

•'  "Tomo  la  candela  en  la  mano  derecba  la  27   de  Setiembre,  ai>.  Documentoa  ineditng, 

qual  yo  tenya  y  con  la  yzquyerda  tomo  el  vol.  vi.  p.  667. — Sandoval,  Hist,  de  Carlos  V., 

cmcifixo  deziendo,  ya  es  tiempo,  y  con  dezir  torn.  ii.  p.  613. — The  MSS.  referred  to  may 

Jesus  acabo."    Carte  de  Luis  Quixada  a  Juan  now  be  all  found  in  the  printed  collection  of 

Vazquez,  25  de  Setiembre,  1558,  MS. — Kor  the  Gachard. 

a  count*  of  ihis  death-bed   scene,  see  Carte  "  "Temiendo  piempre  nolo  poder  tener  en 

del  mtemo  al  mismo,  21  de  Setiembre,  MS.  —  aquel   tiempo."    Carta  de  Luis  Quixada  al 

Carta  del  mismo  al  Rey,  21   de  Setiembre,  Rey,  30  de  Setiembre,  MS. 
MS. — Carta  del  mismo  al  mismo,  30  de  Seti- 


HIS  DEATH  AND  CHARACTER.  133 

dispute  waxed  somewhat  warmer  than  was  suited  to  the  occasion ;  till  the 
momentous  affair  was  finally  adjusted  hy  having  an  excavation  made  in  the 
wall,  within  which  the  head  was  introduced,  so  as  to  allow  the  feet  to  touch 
the  verge  of  the  hallowed  ground.63  The  emperor's  body  did  not  long  abide 
in  its  resting-place  at  Yuste.  Before  many  years  had  elapsed,  it  was  trans- 
ported, by  command  of  Philip  the  Second,  to  the  Escorial ;  and  in  that 
magnificent  mausoleum  it  has  continued  to  repose,  beside  that  of  the  Empress 
Isabella. 

The  funeral  obsequies  of  Charles  were  celebrated  with  much  pomp  by  the 
court  of  Rome,  by  the  Regent  Joanna  at  Valladolid,  and,  with  yet  greater 
magnificence,  by  Philip  the  Second  at  Brussels.  Philip  was  at  Arras  when  he 
learned  the  news  of  his  father's  death.  He  instantly  repaired  to  a  monastery 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Brussels,  where  he  remained  secluded  for  several 
weeks.  Meanwhile  he  ordered  the  bells  in  all  the  churches  and  convents 
throughout  the  Netherlands  to  be  tolled  thrice  a  day  for  four  months,  and 
during  that  time  that  no  festivals  or  public  rejoicings  of  any  kind  should  take 
place.  On  the  twenty-eighth  of  December  the  king  entered  Brussels  by  night, 
and  on  the  following  day.  before  the  hour  of  vespers,  a  procession  was  formed 
to  the  church  of  Ste.  Gudule,  which  still  challenges  the  admiration  of  the 
traveller  as  one  of  the  noblest  monuments  of  mediaeval  architecture  in  the 
Netherlands. 

The  procession  consisted  of  the  principal  clersry,  the  members  of  the  different 
religious  houses,  bearing  lighted  tapers  in  their  nands,  the  nobles  and  cavaliers 
about  the  court,  the  great  officers  of  state,  and  the  royal  household,  all  clad  in 
deep  mourning.  After  these  came  the  knights  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  wearing 
the  insignia  and  the  superb  dress  of  the  order.  The  marquis  of  Aguilar  bore 
the  imperial  sceptre,  the  duke  of  Villahermosa  the  sword,  and  the  prince  of 
Orange  carried  the  globe  and  the  crown  of  the  empire.  Philip  came  on  foot, 
wrapped  in  a  sable  mantle,  with  his  head  buried  in  a  deep  cowl.  His  train 
was  borne  bv  Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva,  the  favourite  minister.  Then  followed 
the  duke  of  Savoy,  walking  also  alone,  with  his  head  covered,  as  a  prince  of 
the  blood.  Files  of  the  Spanish  and  German  guard,  in  their  national  uniforms, 
formed  an  escort  to  the  procession,  as  it  took  its  way  through  the  principal 
streets,  which  were  illumined  with  a  blaze  of  torchlight,  that  dispelled  the 
gathering  shadows  of  evening. 

A  conspicuous  part  of  the  procession  was  a  long  train  of  horses  led  each  by 
two  gentlemen,  and  displaying  on  their  splendid  housings,  and  the  banners 
which  they  carried,  the  devices  and  arms  of  the  several  states  over  which  the 
emperor  presided. 

But  no  part  of  the  pageant  attracted  so  much  notice  from  the  populace  as  a 
stately  galley,  having  its  sides  skilfully  painted  with  battle-pieces  suggested  by 
different  actions  in  which  Charles  had  been,  engaged,  while  its  sails  of  black 
silk  were  covered  with  inscriptions  in  letters  of  gold,  that  commemorated  the 
triumphs  of  the  hero. 

Although  the  palace  was  at  no  great  distance  from  Ste.  Gudule  s,  the  pro- 
cession occupied  two  hours  in  passing  to  the  church.  In  the  nave  of  the  edifice 
stood  a  sort  of  chapel,  constructed  for  the  occasion.  Its  roof,  or  rather  canopy, 
displaying  four  crowns  embroidered  in  gold,  rested  on  four  Ionic  pillars 
curiously  wrought.  Within  lay  a  sarcophagus  covered  with  a  dark  pall  of 
velvet,  surmounted  by  a  large  crimson  cross.  The  imperial  crown,  together 
with  the  g!ol>e  and  sceptre,  was  deposited  in  this  chapel,  which  was  lighted  up 
with  three  thousand  wax  tapers. 

•*  Docuuientos  IneditOB,  torn.  vi.  p.  609. 


134  LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

In  front  of  it  was  a  scaffolding  covered  with  black,  on  which  a  throne  was 
raised  for  Philip.  The  nobles  and  great  officers  of  the  crown  occupied  the 
seats,  or  rather  steps,  below.  Drapery  of  dark  velvet  and  cloth  of  gold, 
emblazoned  with  the  imperial  arms,  was  suspended  across  the  arches  of  the 
nave ;  above  which  ran  galleries,  appropriated  to  the  duchess  of  Lorraine  and 
the  ladies  of  the  court.84 

The  traveller  who  at  this  time  visits  this  venerable  pile,  where  Charles  the 
Fifth  was  wont  to  hold  the  chapters  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  while  he  gazes  on 
the  characteristic  effigy  of  that  monarch,  as  it  is  displayed  on  the  superb 
windows  of  painted  glass,  may  call  to  mind  the  memorable  day  when  the 
people  of  Flanders,  and  the  rank  and  beauty  of  its  capital,  were  gathered 
together  to  celebrate  the  obsequies  of  the  great  emperor ;  when,  amidst  clouds 
of  incense  and  the  blaze  of  myriads  of  lights,  the  deep  tones  of  the  organ, 
vibrating  through  the  long  aisles,  mingled  with  the  voices  of  the  priests,  as 
they  chanted  their  sad  requiem  to  the  soul  of  their  departed  sovereign.95 

I  have  gone  somewhat  into  detail  in  regard  to  the  latter  days  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,  who  exercised  in  his  retirement  too  important  an  influence  on  public 
affairs  for  such  an  account  of  him  to  be  deemed  an  impertinent  episode  to 
the  history  of  Philip  the  Second.  Before  parting  from  him  for  ever,  I  will  take 
a  brief  view  of  some  peculiarities  in  his  personal  rather  than  his  political  cha- 
racter, which  has  long  since  been  indelibly  traced  by  a  hand  abler  than  mine. 

Charles,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  was  in  the  fifty-eighth  year  of  his  age. 
He  was  older  in  constitution  than  in  years.  So  much  shaken  had  he  been, 
indeed,  in  mind  as  well  as  body,  that  he  may  be  said  to  have  died  of  prema- 
ture old  age.  Yet  his  physical  development  had  been  very  slow.  He  was 
nearly  twenty -one  years  old  before  any  beard  was  to  be  seen  on  his  chin.84 
Yet  by  the  time  he  was  thirty-six,  gray  hairs  began  to  make  their  appearance 
on  his  temples.  At  forty  the  gout  naa  made  severe  inroads  on  a  constitution 
originally  strong  ;  and  before  he  was  fifty,  the  man  who  could  keep  the  saddle 
day  and  night  in  his  campaigns,  who  seemed  to  be  insensible  to  fatigue  as  he 
followed  the  chase  among  the  wild  passes  of  the  Alpujarras,  was  obliged  to  be 
carried  in  a  litter,  like  a  poor  cripple,  at  the  head  of  his  armies.87 

•*  Sandoval,   Hist,  de  Carlos  V.,  torn.  ii.  the  shrine  of  the  saint,  whose  marble  corpse, 

p.  620.  covered  by  a  decent  white  gauze  veil,  lay  just 

"  At  least,  such  were  the  images  suggested  before  her,  separated  only  by  a  light  railing, 
to  my  mind,  as  I  wandered  through  the  aisles  The  setting  sun  was  streaming  in  through  the 
of  this  fine  old  cathedral,  on  a  visit  which  I  rich  coloured  panes  of  the  magnificent  win- 
made  to  Brussels  a  few  years  eince, — in  the  dows,  that  rose  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling 
summer  of  1850.  Perhaps  the  reader  will  of  the  cathedral,  some  hundred  feet  in  height, 
excuse,  as  germaine  to  this  matter,  a  short  The  glass  was  of  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth, 
sketch  relating  to  it,  from  one  of  my  letters  and  1  soon  recognized  his  familiar  face,— the 
written  on  the  spot  to  a  distant  friend : —  protruding  jaw  of  the  Austrian  line.  As  [ 

"Then  the   noble   cathedral   of    Brussels,  heard  the  glorious  anthem  rise  up  to  heaven 

dedicated  to  one  Saint  Gudule, — the  superb  In  this  time-honoured  cathedral,  which  had 

organ  filling  its  long  aisles   with  the  most  witnessed   generation  after  generation  molt 

hi  art-thrilling    tones,   as  the    voices  of  the  away,  and  which  now  displayed,  in  undying 

priests,  dressed  in  their  rich  robes  of  purple  colours,  the  effigies  of  those  who  had  once 

and  gold,  rose  in  a  chant  that  died  away  in  worshipped  within   its   \\alls,    I   was  swept 

the  immense  vaulted  distance  of  the  cathedral.  back  to  a  distant  period,  and  felt  I  was  a 

It  was  the  service  of  the  dead,  and  the  cofliu  contemporary  of  the  grand  old  times  when 

of  some  wealthy  burgher,  probably,  to  judge  Charles  the   Fifth  held  the  chapters  of  the 

from  its  decorations,  was  in  the  choir.     A  Golden  Fleece  in  this  very  building." 

number  of  persons  were  kneeling  and  saying  M  "De  Rege  vero  Ca-sare  ajunt.  qui  ab  eo 

their  prayers  in  rapt  attention,  little  heeding  veniunt.barbatum  jam  esse."     Petri  Martyris 

the  Protestant  strangers  who  were  curiously  Opus  Epistolarum  (Amstelodami,  1670,  fol.), 

gazing  at  the  pictures  and  statues  with  which  ep.  734. 

the  edifice  was  filled.     I  was  most  struck  with  "  in  this  outline  of  the  character  of  Charles 

one  poor  woman,  who  was  kneeling  before  the  Fifth  I  have  not  hesitated  to  avail  myself 


HIS  DEATH  AND  CHARACTER.  135 

His  mental  development  was  equally  tardy  with  his  bodily.  So  long  as 
Chievres  lived, — the  Flemish  noble  who  had  the  care  of  his  early  life, — Charles 
seemed  to  have  no  will  of  his  own.  During  his  first  visit  to  Spain,  where  he 
came  when  seventeen  years  old,  he  gave  so  little  promise  that  those  who 
approached  him  nearest  could  discern  no  signs  of  his  future  greatness.  Yet 
the  young  prince  seems  to  have  been  conscious  that  he  had  the  elements  of 
greatness" within  him,  and  he  patiently  bided  his  time.  "  Nondum" — "  Not 
yet" — was  the  motto  which  ne  adopted  for  his  maiden  shield,  when  but 
eighteen  years  old,  at  a  tournament  at  Valladolid. 

But  when  the  death  of  the  Flemish  minister  had  released  the  young  monarch 
from  this  state  of  dependence,  he  took  the  reins  into  his  own  hands,  as  Louis 
the  Fourteenth  did  on  the  death  of  Mazarin.  He  now  showed  himself  in  an 
entirely  new  aspect.  He  even  displayed  greater  independence  than  his  pre- 
decessors had  done.  He  no  longer  trusted  everything,  like  them,  to  a  council 
of  state.  He  trusted  only  to  himself ;  and  if  he  freely  communicated  with 
some  one  favourite  minister,  like  the  elder  Granvelle,  and  the  cardinal,  his 
son,  it  was  in  order  to  be  counselled,  not  to  be  controlled  by  their  judgments. 
He  patiently  informed  himself  of  public  affairs ;  and  when  foreign  envoys  had 
their  audiences  of  him,  they  were  surprised  .to  find  him  possessed  of  every- 
thing relating  to  their  own  courts  and  the  objects  of  their  mission. 

Yet  he  did  not  seem  to  be  quick  of  apprehension,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly, 
he  was  slow  at  arriving  at  his  results.  He  would  keep  the  courier  waiting  for 
days  before  he  could  come  to  a  decision.  When  he  aid  come  to  it,  no  person 
on  earth  could  shake  it.  Talking  one  day  with  the  Venetian  Contarini  about 
this  habit  of  his  mind,  the  courtly  minister  remarked  that  "  it  was  not  obsti- 
nacy to  adhere  to  sound  opinions."  "  True,"  said  Charles,  "  but  I  sometimes 
adhere  to  those  that  are  unsound,"  •• 

His  indefatigable  activity  both  of  mind  and  body  formed  a  strong  contrast 
to  the  lethargy  of  early  years.  His  widely  scattered  empire,  spreading  over 
the  Low  Countries,  Spain,  Germany,  and  the  New  World,  presented  embar- 
rassments which  most  princes  would  have  found  it  impossible  to  overcome. 
At  least,  they  would  have  been  compelled  to  govern,  in  a  great  measure,  by 
deputy, — to  transact  their  business  by  agents.  But  Charles  chose  to  do  every- 
thing himself, — to  devise  his  own  plans  and  to  execute  them  in  person.  The 
number  of  his  journeys  bv  land  and  by  water,  as  noticed  in  his  farewell  address, 
is  truly  wonderful ;  for  that  was  not  the  day  of  steamboats  and  railways.  He 
seemed  to  lead  the  life  of  a  courier.  But  it  was  for  no  trivial  object  that  he 
made  these  expeditions.  He  knew  where  his  presence  was  needed  ;  and  his 
promptness  and  punctuality  brought  him  at  the  right  time  on  the  right  spot. 
No  spot  in  his  broad  empire  was  far  removed  from  Trim.  He  seemed  to  possess 
the  power  of  ubiquity. 

The  consciousness  of  his  own  strength  roused  to  a  flame  the  spark  of  ambi- 
tion which  had  liitlierto  slept  in  his  bosom.  His  schemes  were  so  vast  that  it 
was  a  common  opinion  he  aspired  to  universal  monarchy.  Like  his  grand- 
father, Ferdinand,  and  his  own  son,  Philip,  he  threw  over  his  schemes  the 
cloak  of  religion.  Or,  to  deal  with  him  more  fairly,  religious  principle  probably 
combined  with  pentonal  policy  to  determine  his  career.  He  seemed  always 
ready  to  do  battle  for  the  Cross.  He  affected  to  identify  the  cause  of  Spain 
with  the  cause  of  Christendom.  He  marched  against  the  Turks,  and  stayed 

of  the  masterly  touches   which   Ratike  has  baa  devoted  to  Spain. 

given  to  the  portrait  of  thin  monarch.  In  the  ••  "Qualche  flate  ioson  ferroo  in  lerattlve." 

introduction  to  that  portion  of  bin  great  work  Contarini,    cited    by    Rauke,  Ottoman    and 

on  the  nations  of  Southern  Europe  which  he  Spanish  Empires,  p.  29. 


136  LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 

the  tide  of  Ottoman  inroad  in  Hungary.  He  marched  against  the  Protestants, 
and  discomfited  their  armies  in  the  heart  of  Germany.  He  crossed  the 
Mediterranean,  and  humbled  the  Crescent  at  Algiers.  He  threw  himself  on 
the  honour  of  Francis,  and  travelled  through  France  to  take  vengeance  on  the 
rebels  of  Flanders.  He  twice  entered  France  as  an  enemy  and  marched  up  to 
the  gates  of  Paris.  Instead  of  the  modest  legend  on  his  maiden  shield,  he 
now  assumed  the  proud  motto,  "  Piv*  ultra  ;  "  and  he  vindicated  his  ria:ht  to 
it  by  sending  his  fleets  across  the  ocean  and  by  planting  the  banner  of  Castile 
on  the  distant  shores  of  the  Pacific.  In  these  enterprises  he  was  generally 
successful.  His  success  led  him  to  rely  still  more  on  himself.  "  Myself,  and 
the  lucky  moment,"  was  his  favourite  saying.  The  "  star  of  Austria  was 
still  a  proverb.  It  was  not  till  the  evening  of  life  that  he  complained  of 
the  fickleness  of  fortune, — that  his  star,  as  it  descended  to  the  horizon,  was 
obscured  by  clouds  and  darkness. 

Thus  Charles's  nerves  were  kept  in  a  state  of  perpetual  excitement.  No 
wonder  that  his  health  should  have  sunk  under  it,  like  a  plant  forced  by 
extraordinary  stimulants  to  an  unnatural  production  at  the  expense  of  its 
own  vitality. 

His  habits  were  not  all  of  them  the  most  conducive  to  health.  He  slept 
usually  only  four  hours ;  too  short  a  time  to  repair  the  waste  caused  by 
incessant  toil.69  His  phlegmatic  temperament  did  not  incline  him  to  excess. 
Yet  there  was  one  excess  of  which  he  was  guilty, — the  indulgence  of  his 
appetite  to  a  degree  most  pernicious  to  his  health.  A  Venetian  contempo- 
rary tells  us  that,  before  rising  in  the  morning,  potted  capon  was  usually 
served  to  him,  dressed  with  sugar,  milk,  and  spices.  At  noon  he  dined  on 
a  variety  of  dishes.  Soon  after  vespers  he  took  another  meal,  and  later  in 
the  evening  supped  heartily  on  anchovies,  or  some  other  gross  and  savoury 
food  of  which  he  was  particularly  fond.70  On  one  occasion  complaining  to 
his  maitre-d' -hotel  that  the  cook  sent  him  nothing  but  dishes  too  insipid 
and  tasteless  to  be  eaten,  the  perplexed  functionary,  knowing  Charles's  passion 
for  time-pieces,  replied  that  "  he  did  not  know  what  he  could  do,  unless  it 
were  to  serve  his  majesty  a  ragout  of  watches ! "  The  witticism  had  one 
good  effect,  that  of  provoking  a  hearty  laugh  from  the  emperor,— a  thing 
rarely  witnessed  in  his  latter  days.71 

It  was  in  vain  that  Cardinal  Loaysa,  his  confessor,  remonstrated,  with  an 
independence  that  does  him  credit,  against  his  master's  indulgence  of  his 
appetite^  assuring  him  that  resistance  here  would  do  more  for  his  soul  than 
any  penance  with  the  scourge.72  It  seems  a  pity  that  Charles,  considering 

"  See    Bradford,   Correspondence    of  the  "  "  Disge  una  volta  al  Maggiordomo  Mon- 

Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth  and  his  Ambassa-  falconetto  con  sdt-gno,  ch"  aveva  corrotto  il 

dors  at  the  Courts  of  England  and  France,  giudicio  a  dare  ordine  a' cuochi,  perche  tntti  i 

with  a  Connecting  Narrative  and  Biographical  cibi  erano  insipidi,  dal  quale  le  t'u  risposto: 

Notices  of  the  Emperor  (London,  1850),  p.  Non  so  come  dovere  trovare  piu  modi  da 

367, — a  work  which  contains  some  interesting  compiacere  alia  maesla  V.  se  io  non  fo  prova 

particulars,  little  known,  respecting  Charles  di  farle  una  nuova  vivanda  di  pottaggtu  di 

the  Fifth.  rogoli,  il  che  la  mosse  a  quel  maggiore  et  pift 

70  "  Nel  mangiare  ha  S.   Maesta   eempre  lungo  riso  che  sia  niai  stato  veduto  in  lei." 

eccesso.  .  .  .  Lamattinasvegliataellapigliava  Ibid. 

una  scodella  di  pesto  cappone  con  latte,  zuc-  "  Briefe  an  Kaiser  Karl  V.,  gescbrieben 

cliero  et  spezierie,  popoi  il  quale  tornava  a  von  seineni  Beichtvater  (Berlin,  1848),  p.  159 

riposare.     A  mezzo  giorno  desinava   molte  et  al. — These  letters  of  Charles's  confessor, 

variela  di  vivande,  et  poco  da  poi  vespro  me-  which  afford  Borne  curious  paiticnlars  for  the 

rendava,  et  all'  hora  di  notte  se  n'  andava  alia  illustration  of  the  early  |ieriod  of  his  hUtory, 

cena  niangiandocosetutteda  gonerare  humori  are  preserved  in  the  Archives  of  Simancas. 

grossi   et  viscosi."    Badovaro,  Notizie  delli  The  edi'ion   above  referred  to  contains  the 

Stati  et  Corti  di  Carlo  Quinto  Imperatorc  et  original  Castilian,  accompanied  by  a  German 

del  Re  Cattolico,  MS.  translation. 


HIS  DEATH  AND  CHARACTER.  137 

his  propensities,  should  have  so  easily  obtained  absolution  from  fasts,  and 
that  he  should  not,  on  the  contrary,  have  transferred  some  of  the  penance 
which  he  inflicted  on  his  back  to  the  offending  part.  Even  in  the  monas- 
tery of  Yuste  he  still  persevered  in  the  same  pernicious  taste.  Anchovies, 
frogs'  legs,  and  eel-pasties  were  the  dainty  morsels  with  which  he  chose  to 
be  regaled,  even  before  the  eyes  of  his  physician.  It  would  not  have  been 
amiss  for  him  to  have  exchanged  his  solitary  repast  more  frequently  for  the 
simpler  fare  of  the  refectory. 

With  these  coarser  tastes  Charles  combined  many  others  of  a  refined  and 
intellectual  character.  We  have  seen  his  fondness  for  music,  and  the  delight 
lie  took  in  the  sister  art  of  design, — especially  in  the  works  of  Titian.  He 
was  painted  several  times  by  this  great  master,  and  it  was  by  his  hand,  as 
we  have  seen,  that  he  desired  to  go  down  to  posterity.  The  emperor  had, 
moreover,  another  taste,  perhaps  talent,  which,  with  a  different  training  and 
in  a  different  sphere  of  life,  might  have  led  him  to  the  craft  of  authorship. 

A  curious  conversation  is  reported  as  haying  been  held  by  him  with  feoria, 
the  future  saint,  during  one  of  the  visits  paid  by  the  Jesuit  to  Yuste.  Charles 
inquired  of  his  friend  whether  it  were  wrong  for  a  man  to  write  his  auto- 
biography, provided  he  did  so  honestly  and  with  no  motive  of  vanity.  He 
said  that  he  had  written  his  own  memoirs,  not  from  the  desire  of  self-glori- 
fication, but  to  correct  manifold  mistakes  which  had  been  circulated  of  his 
doings,  and  to  set  his  conduct  in  a  true  light.73  One  might  be  curious  to 
kaow  the  answer,  which  is  not  given,  of  the  good  father  to  this  question. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  was  not  of  a  kind  to  induce  the  emperor  to  destroy 
the  manuscript,  which  has  never  come  to  light. 

However  this  may  be,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  at  one  period  of 
his  life  he  had  compiled  a  portion  of  his  autobiography.  In  the  imperial 
household,  as  I  have  al  eady  noticed,  was  a  Flemish  scholar,  William  Van 
Male,  or  Malinaeus,  as  he  is  called  in  Latin,  who,  under  the  title  of  gentleman 
of  the  chamber,  wrote  many  a  long  letter  for  Charles,  while  standing  by  his 
tedside,  and  read  many  a  weary  hour  to  him  after  the  monarch  had  gone  to 
rest, — not,  as  it  would  seem,  to  sleep.74  This  personage  tells  us  that  Charles, 
when  sailing  on  the  Rhine,  wrote  an  account  of  his  expeditions  to  as  late 
a  date  as  1550.74  This  is  not  very  definite.  Any  account  written  under  such 
circumstances  and  in  so  short  a  time  could  be  nothing  but  a  sketch  of  the 
most  general  kind.  Yet  Van  Male  assures  us  that  he  had  read  the  manu- 
script, jvhich  he  commends  for  its  terse  and  elegant  diction  ;  and  he  proposes 
to  make  a  Latin  version  of  it,  the  style  of  which  should  combine  the  separate 
merits  of  Tacitus,  Livy,  Suetonius,  and  Caesar  ! "  The  admiring  chamberlain 
laments  that,  instead  of  giving  it  to  the  world,  Charles  should  keep  it  jealously 
secured  under  lock  and  key." 

71  "  SI  hallals,"  said  the  royal  author,  with  pationes  in  navtgatlone  fluminis  Rhenl,  dum 

•  degree  of  humility  rarely  found  in  brethren  ocii   occaslone   invitatus,   scriberet   in    navi 

of  the  craft,    "que  al^uua  vaiildad  secreta  peregrlnatlones  et  expeditiones  quaa  al>  anno 

puede  mover  la  pluma  (que  siempre  es  pro-  XV.  in  praaeutem  usque  diem,  susceplsset." 

diXiuMj  i'anegensta  en  causa  proprUi),  la  ar-  Ibid.,  ep.  5. 

Mjar<!  de  la  mano  al  punto,  paradar  al  viento  "  "Statin  novum  quoddam  scrlbendi  tem- 

loqne  es  del  vleuto."    Cienfuegos,  Vida  de  peratum  efflngere,  luixtum  ex  Livio.Caware, 

Horjm  P.  269.  Suetonlo,   et   Tacito."     Lettres   sur   la   Vie 

'•  ••  KuctusestanagnostpH  insatlabilis,  aiulit  interieure  de  Charles-Quint,  ep.  5. 

lege'item  me  Blnguliit  noctibus  facta  rtenula  "  At  the  emperor's  death,  these  Memoirs 

mm.  iimx  lilirum  repell  jubet,  si  forte  ipsum  were  in  possession  of  Van  Male,  who  after- 

tornuel  insomnia."     Lcttres  sur   la  Vi«   In-  wards  used   to  complain,  with   te.irs  in  his 

ttrteure  de  Charlefl-Quint,  ecrites  par  (i.  Van  eyes,  that  Cjuixada  had  t  iken  them  away  from 

Mule,  ep.  7.  b'ro.     But  he  rememb'Ted  enough  of  their 

11  •' Scrips!  .  .  .  liberalUslmaa  ejus  occu-  contents,  be  said,  to  make  out  another  life  of 


138 


LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 


The  emperor's  taste  for  authorship  showed  itself  also  in  another  form.  This 
was  by  the  translation  of  the  " Chevalier  Delibere"  a  French  poem  then 
popular,  celebrating  the  court  of  his  ancestor,  Charles  the  Bold  of  Burgundy. 
Van  Male,  who  seems  to  have  done  for  Charles  the  Fifth  what  Voltaire  did  for 
Frederick  when  he  spoke  of  himself  as  washing  the  king's  dirty  linen,  was 
employed  also  to  overlook  this  translation,  which  he  pronounces  to  have 
possessed  great  merit  in  regard  to  idiom  and  selection  of  language.  The 
emperor  then  gave  it  to  Acufia,  a  good  poet  of  the  court,  to  be  done  into 
Castilian  verse.  Thus  metamorphosed,  he  proposed  to  give  the  copy  to  Van 
Male.  A  mischievous  wag,  Avila  the  historian,  assured  the  emperor  that  it 
could  not  be  worth  less  than  five  hundred  gold  crowns  to  that  functionary. 
"  And  William  is  well  entitled  to  them,"  said  the  monarch,  "  for  he  has  sweat 
much  over  the  work." 7B  Two  thousand  copies  were  forthwith  ordered  to  be 
printed  of  the  poem,  which  was  to  come  out  anonymously.  Poor  Van  Male, 
who  took  a  very  different  view  of  the  profits,  and  thought  that  nothing  was 
certain  but  the  cost  of  the  edition,  would  have  excused  himself  from  this  proof 
of  his  master's  liberality.  It  was  all  in  vain  ;  Charles  was  not  to  be  balked  in 
his  generous  purpose  ;  and,  without  a  line  to  propitiate  the  public  favour  by 
stating  in  the  preface  the  share  of  the  royal  hand  in  the  composition,  it  was 
ushered  into  the  world.79 

Whatever  Charles  may  have  done  in  the  way  of  an  autobiography,  he  was 
certainly  not  indifferent  to  posthumous  fame.  He  knew  that  the  greatest 
name  must  soon  pass  into  oblivion,  unless  embalmed  in  the  song  of  the  bard 
or  the  page  of  the  chronicler.  He  looked  for  a  chronicler  to  do  for  him  with 
his  pen  what  Titian  had  done  for  him  with  his  pencil, — exhibit  him  in  his 
true  proportions,  and  in  a  permanent  form,  to  the  eye  of  posterity.  In  this 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  so  much  under  the  influence  of  vanity  as  of  a 


his  master,  which  he  Intended  to  do.  (Papiers 
d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  vi.  p.  29.)  Philip, 
thinking  that  Van  Male  might  have  carried 
his  intention  into  execution,  ordered  Gran- 
velle to  hunt  among  his  papers,  after  the 
poor  gentleman's  death,  and  if  he  found  any 
such  MS.  to  send  it  10  him.  that  he  might 
throw  it  into  the  fire!  (Ibid.,  p.  273.) 
Philip,  in  his  tenderness  for  his  father's 
memory,  may  have  thought  that  no  man 
could  be  a  hero  to  his  own  valet-de-chambre. 
On  searching,  however,  no  memoirs  were 
found.* 

"  "  Bono  jure,  ait,  fructus  ille  ad  Guliel- 
mum  redeat,  ut  qui  pltirimum  in  opere  illo 
sudarit,"  Lettres  sur  la  Vie  interieure  de 
Charles-Quint,  ep.  6. 

**  "  Ne  in  proemio  quidem  passus  est 
ullam  solertia:  su»  laudem  ad^cribi."  Ibid. 
— Van  Male's  Latin  correspondence,  from 
which  this  amusing  incident  is  taken,  was 
first  published  by  the  Baron  Reiffenberg  for 
the  society  of  Jiibliophil-es  Belgiques,  at 


Brussels,  in  1843.  It  contains  some  interest- 
ing notices  of  Charles  the  Fifth's  personal 
habits  during  the  five  years  preceding  his 
abdication.  Van  Male  accompanied  his  master 
into  his  retirement ;  and  his  name  appears  in 
the  codicil  among  those  of  the  household  who 
received  pensions  from  the  emperor.  This 
doubtless  stood  him  in  more  stead  than  his 
majesty's  translation,  which,  although  it 
passed  through  several  editions  in  the  course 
of  the  century,  probably  put  little  money  into 
the  pocket  of  the  chamberlain,  wnt>  died  in 
less  than  two  years  after  his  master.-- A 
limited  edition  only  of  Van  Male's  corre- 
spondence was  printed,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
members  of  the  association.  For  the  copy 
used  by  me  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Van  de 
Weyer,  the  accomplished  Belgian  minister  at 
the  English  court,  whose  love  of  letters  is 
shown  not  more  by  the  library  he  has  formed 
— one  of  the  noblest  firivate  collections  in 
Europe— than  by  the  liberality  with  which 
he  accords  the  use  of  it  to  the  student. 


*  [The  "  Memoirs  "  have  since  been  brought 
to  light,  a  Portuguese  translation,  professing 
to  have  been  made  "from  the  French,  and 
from  the  original,  at  Madrid,  in  1620,"  having 
been  discovered  among  the  MSS.  of  the  Im- 
perial Library  at  Paris,  by  the  Baron  Kervyn 
de  Leitenhove.  An  unfinished  prefatory  note 
from  Charles  to  his  son  Philip,  dated  Inns- 


bruck, 1552,  mentions  that  the  work  was 
written — as  stated  by  Van  Male — during 
journeys  on  the  Rhine,  and  that  it  was 
finished  at  Aufisburs*.  It  covers  the  period 
from  1516  to  154K;  but  the  contents,  though 
not  devoid  of  interest,  throw  little  or  no  light 
on  the  events  of  that  period.  An  English 
translation  appeared  iu  1862. — KD.] 


MEMOIRS  OF  CHARLES.  139 

natural  desire  to  have  his  character  and  conduct  placed  in  a  fair  point  of  view 
— what  seeaied  to  him  to  be  such — for  the  contemplation  or  criticism  of 
mankind. 

The  person  whom  the  emperor  selected  for  this  delicate  office  was  the 
learned  Sepulveda.  Sleidan  he  condemned  as  a  slanderer ;  and  Giovio,  who 
had  taken  the  other  extreme  and  written  of  him  with  what  he  called  the 
"  golden  pen "  of  history,  he  no  less  condemned  as  a  flatterer.80 "  Charles 
encouraged  Sepulveda  to  apply  to  him  for  information  on  matters  relating  to 
his  government.  But  when  requested  by  the  historian  to  listen  to  what  he 
had  written,  the  emperor  refused.  "  I  will  neither  hear  nor  read,"  he  replied, 
"  what  you  have  said  of  me.  Others  may  do  this  when  I  am  gone.  But  if 
you  wish  for  any  information  on  any  point,  I  shall  be  always  ready  to  give  it 
to  you.':  •'  A  history  thus  compiled  was  of  the  nature  of  an  autobiography, 
ana  must  be  considered,  therefore,  as  entitled  to  much  the  same  confidence, 
and  open  to  the  same  objections,  as  that  kind  of  writing.  Sepulveda  was  one 
of  the  few  who  had  repeated  access  to  Charles  in  his  retirement  at  Yuste ; 8Z 
and  the  monarch  testified  his  regard  for  him  by  directing  that  particular  care 
be  taken  that  no  harm  should  come  to  the  historian's  manuscript  before  it 
was  committed  to  the  press.8* 

Such  are  some  of  the  most  interesting  traits  and  personal  anecdotes  I  have 
been  able  to  collect  of  the  man  who  for  nearly  forty  years  ruled  over  an  empire 
more  vast,  with  an  authority  more  absolute,  than  any  monarch  since  the  days 
of  Charlemagne.  It  may  be  thought  strange  that  I  should  have  omitted  to 
notice  one  feature  in  his  character,  the  most  prominent  in  the  line  from  which 
he  was  descended,  at  least  on  the  mother's  side, — his  bigotry.  But  in  Charles 
this  was  less  conspicuous  than  in  many  others  of  his  house  ;  and  while  he  sat 
upon  the  throne,  the  extent  to  which  his  religious  principles  were  held  in 
subordination  by  his  political  suggests  a  much  closer  parallel  to  the  policy  of 
his  grandfather,  Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  than  to  that  of  his  son,  Philip  the 
Second,  or  of  his  imbecile  grandson.  Philip  the  Third. 

But  the  religious  gloom  which  hung  over  Charles's  mind  took  the  deeper 
tinge  of  fanaticism  after  he  had  withdrawn  to  the  monastery  of  Yuste.  With 
his  dying  words,  as  we  have  seen,  he  bequeathed  the  Inquisition  as  a  precious 
legacy  to  his  son.  In  like  manner,  he  endeavoured  to  cherish  in  the  Regent 
Joanna's  bosom  the  spirit  of  persecution.*4  And  if  it  be  true,  as  his  bio- 
grapher assures  us,  that  Charles  expressed  a  regret  that  he  had  respected 
the  safe-conduct  of  Luther,8*  the  world  had  little  reason  to  mourn  that  he 
exchanged  the  sword  and  the  sceptre  for  the  breviary  of  the  friar,— the  throne 
of  the  Caesars  for  his  monastic  retreat  among  the  wilds  of  Estremadura. 

**  Paolo  (itovio  got  so  little  in  return  for  "  Carta  del  Emperador  ol  Secretarlo  Vai- 

hix  boneyed  words  that  bis  eyes  were  optned  quez,  9  de  Julio.  1558,  MS. 
to  a  new   trait  in  the  character  of  diaries,  "'  "Si  loe  ballara  cuu  fuercjis  y  disjui-i- 

vbom   be  afterwards   stigmatized  as  ]>ar»i-  cion  de  podellu  bacer  tambien  prucurara  ile 

uiouiuus.     See  Sepulveda,   L)e   Uebua  gestis  enforcaruie  en  ecte  caso  4  toinar  cualquier 

Caruli  V.,  lib.  xxx.  p.  634.  trabujo  para  prucurar  por  mi   part?  el  re- 

•'  "  liaud  nnlii  gratum  est  legere  vel  au-  nu-dio  y  castigode  lo  sobredicbo  BID  embargo 

dire,  qua-  de  me  scribuntur;  legetit  alii  cum  de  lue  que  por  ello  be  padewndo."    Carta  del 

ipae  a  vita  discesaero;  tu  siquid  ex  me  scire  Kuiperador  it  la  Priucesa,  3  de  Mayo,  1558, 

cupis,  pen  unclare.  nee  tniiu  respondere  gra-  &1S. 
vabor.       Ibid.,  p.  533.  "•  "  Yo  erre  en  no  matar  a  Luthero,  .  .  . 

"  Charles,  however  willing-he  might  be  to  porque  yo  no  «ra  obligado  u   guaroalle   la 

receive    tbose   strangers   wbo   brougbt    him  palabra  por  ger  la  culpa del  hereje  contra  otro 

iw"sfruiii  foreign  parts,  was  not  very  tule-  mayor  Scuor,  que  era  Dios."    Sandoval,  Hirt. 

rant,  a«  tbe  biHturlan  t'-IN  us,  of  visits  of  idle  de  Carlo*  V.,  lorn.  11.  p.  613. — See  also  Veni 

certiuouy.    IbkL,  p.  641.  y  Hgucrua,  Carlos  yuiuto,  p.  134. 


140 


LATTER  DAYS  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH. 


The  preceding  chapter  was  written  in  the 
summer  of  1851,  a  year  before  the  appearance 
of  Stirling's  "Cloister  Life  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,"  which  led  the  way  in  that  brilliant 
series  of  works  from  the  pens  of  Amedee 
I'iclint,  Mignet,  and  Uachard,  which  has  made 
the  darkest  recesses  of  Yuste  as  light  as  day. 
The  publication  of  these  works  has  deprived 
my  account  of  whatever  novelty  it  might  have 
possessed,  since  it  rests  on  a  similar  basis 
with  theirs,  namely,  original  documents  in 
the  Archives  of  Simancas.  Yet  the  important 
influence  which  Charles  exerted  over  the 
management  of  affairs,  even  in  his  monastic 
retreat,  lias  made  it  impossible  to  dispense 
with  the  chapter.  On  the  contrary,  I  have 
profited  by  these  recent  publications,  to  make 
sundry  additions,  which  may  readily  lie  dis- 
covered by  the  reader,  from  the  references  I 
have  been  careful  to  make  to  the  sources 
whence  they  are  derived. 

The  public  has  been  hitherto  indebted  for 
its  knowledge  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the 
Fifth  to  Robertson, — a  writer  who,  combin- 
ing a  truly  philosophical  spirit  with  an  acute 
perception  of  character,  is  recommended, 
moreover,  by  a  classic  elegance  of  style  which 
has  justly  given  him  a  pre-eminence  among 
the  historians  of  the  great  emperor.  But  in 
his  account  of  the  latter  days  of  Charles, 
Robertson  mainly  relies  on  commonplace  au- 
thorities, whose  information,  gathered  at 
second  hand,  is  far  from  being  trustworthy, 
—as  is  proved  by  the  contradictory  tenor  of 
such  authentic  documents  as  the  letters  of 
Charles  himself,  with  those  of  his  own  fol- 
lowers, and  the  narratives  of  the  brotherhood 
of  Yuste.  These  documents  are,  Jor  the  most 
part,  to  be  found  in  the  Archives  of  Siman- 
cas, where,  in  Robertson's  time,  they  were 
guarded,  with  the  vigilance  of  a  Turkish 
harem,  against  all  intrusion  of  native  as  well 
as  foreigner.  It  was  not  until  very  recently, 
in  1844,  that  the  more  liberal  disposition  of 
the  government  allowed  the  gates  to  be  un- 
barred which  had  been  closed  for  centuries ; 
and  then  for  the  first  time  the  student  might 
be  seen  toiling  in  the  dusty  alcoves  of  Si- 
mancas and  busily  exploring  the  lung-buried 
memorials  of  the  past.  It  was  at  this  period 
that  my  friend  Don  Pascual  de  Gayangos, 
having  obtained  authority  from  the  govern- 
ment, passed  some  weeks  at  Simancas  in 
collecting  materials,  some  of  which  have 
formed  the  groundwork  of  the  preceding 
chapter. 

While  the  manuscripts  of  Simancas  were 
thus  hidden  from  the  world,  a  learned  keeper 
of  the  archives,  Don  Tomas  Gonzalez,  dis- 
contented with  the  unworthy  view  which  had 
been  given  of  the  latter  days  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,  had  profited  by  the  materials  which 
lay  around  Mm,  to  exhibit  his  life  at  Yu-te 
i'i  a  new  and  more  authentic  light.  To  the 
volume  which  he  compiled  for  this  purpose 
lie  gave  the  title  of  "  Reliro,  Bstancia,  y 
il  iertf  del  Empera&or  Carlos  Quinto  en  el 
Aonasto  io  de  fuste."  The  work,  the  prin- 


cipal value  of  which  consists  in  the  copious 
extracts  with  which  it  is  furnished  from  the 
correspondence  of  Charles  and  his  household, 
was  suffered  by  the  author  to  remain  in 
manuscript ;  and  at  his  death  it  passed  into 
the  hands  of  his  brother,  who  prepared  a 
summary  of  its  <ontents,  and  endeavoured  to 
dispose  of  the  volume  at  a  price  so  exorbitant 
that  it  remained  for  many  years  without  a 

Purchaser.  It  was  finally  b<  ught  by  the 
rench  government  at  a  greatly  reduced  price, 
— for  four  thousand  francs.  It  may  seem 
strange  that  it  should  have  even  brought  this 
sum,  since  the  time  of  the  sale  was  that  in 
which  the  new  arrangements  were  made  for 
giving  admifKion  to  the  archives  that  con- 
tained the  original  documents  on  which  the 
Gonzalez  MS.  was  founded.  The  work  thus 
bought  by  the  Frem-b  government  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  Archives  des  Affaires  fitran- 
geres,  then  under  the  direction  of  M.  Mignet. 
The  manuscript  could  not  he  in  better  hands 
than  those  of  a  scholar  who  has  so  success- 
fully carrifd  the  torch  of  criticism  into  some 
of  the  darkest  passages  of  Spanish  history. 
His  occupations,  however,  took  him  in  another 
direction ;  and  for  eight  years  the  Gonzalez 
MS.  remained  as  completely  hidden  from  the 
world  in  the  Parisian  archives  as  it  had  been 
in  those  of  Simancas.  When  at  length  it 
was  applied  to  the  historical  uses  lor  which 
it  had  been  intended,  it  was  through  the 
agency,  not  of  a  French,  but  of  a  British 
writer.  This  was  Mr.  Stirling,  the  author  of 
the  "Annals  of  the  Artists  of  Spain," — a 
work  honourable  to  its  author  for  the  fami- 
liarity it  shows  not  only  with  the  state  of 
the  arts  in  that  country,  but  also  with  its 
literature. 

Mr.  Stirling,  during  a  visit  to  the  Penin- 
sula, in  1849,  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Yuste ; 
and  the  traditions  and  hoary  reminiscences 
gathered  round  the  spot  left  such  an  impres- 
sion on  the  traveller's  mind  that  on  his  re- 
turn to  England  he  made  them  the  subject  of 
two  elaborate  papers  in  Frazer's  Magazine,  in 
the  numbers  for  April  and  May,  1851.  Al- 
though these  spirited  essays  rested  wholly  on 
printed  works,  which  had  long  been  acces- 
sible to  the  scholar,  they  were  found  to  con- 
tain many  new  and  highly  interesting  details ; 
showing  how  superficially  Mr.  Stirling's  pre- 
d'-cessors  had  examined  the  records  of  the 
emperor's  residence  at  Yuste.  Still,  in  his 
account  the  author  had  omitted  the  most  im- 
portant feature  of  Charles's  monastic  life, — 
the  influence  which  he  exercised  on  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  kingdom.  This  was  to 
be  gathered  from  the  manuscripts  of  Si- 
mancas. 

Mr.  Stirling,  who  through  that  inexhaus- 
tible repository,  the  Handbook  of  Spain,  bad 
become  acquainted  with  the  existence  of  the 
Gonzalez  MS.,  was,  at  the  time  of  writing 
his  essays,  ignorant  of  its  fate.  On  learning, 
afterwards,  where  it  was  to  be  found,  be 
visited  Paris,  and,  having  obtained  access  to 
the  volume,  so  far  profited  by  its  contents  as 


MEMOIRS  OF  CHARLES. 


141 


to  make  them  the  basis  of  a  separate  work, 
which  be  entitled  "The  Cloister  Life  of 
Charles  the  Fifth."  It  soon  attracted  the 
attention  of  scholars,  both  at  home  and 
abroad,  went  through  several  editions,  and 
was  received,  in  short,  with  an  avidity  which 
showed  both  the  importance  attached  to  the 
developments  the  author  had  made,  and  the 
attractive  form  in  which  he  had  presented 
them  to  the  reader. 

The  Parisian  scholars  were  now  stimulated 
to  turn  to  account  the  treasure  which  had  re- 
mained so  long  neglected  on  their  shelves. 
In  1854,  less  than  two  years  after  the  appear- 
ance of  Mr.  Stirling's  book.  M.  Amedee 
Pichot  published  his  "  Ckronique  de  CharUi- 
Quint,"  a  work  which,  far  from  being  con- 
fined to  the  latter  days  of  the  emperor,  covers 
the  whole  range  of  his  biography,  presenting 
a  large  amount  of  information  in  regard  to 
his  personal  habits,  as  well  as  to  tne  interior 
organization  of  his  government  and  the  policy 
which  directed  it.  The  whole  is  enriched, 
moreover,  by  a  multitude  of  hl-torical  in- 
cidents, which  may  be  regarded  rather  as  sub- 
sidiary than  essential  to  the  conduct  of  the 
narrative,  which  is  enlivened  by  much  in- 
genious criticism  on  the  state  of  manners, 
arts,  and  moral  culture  of  the  period. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  appearance  of 
this  work  that  M.  Gachard,  whom  I  have 
elsewhere  noticed  as  having  been  commis- 
sioned by  the  Belgian  government  to  make 
extensive  researches  in  the  Archives  of  Si- 
niancas,  gave  to  the  public  some  of  the  fruits 
of  his  labours,  in  the  first  volume  of  his 
Rttraile  et  Mart  de  Charles-Quint."  It  is 
devoted  to  the  letters  of  the  emperor  and  his 
household,  which  forms  the  staple  of  the 
Gonzalez  MS.  ;  thus  placing  at  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  future  biographer  of  Charles  the 
original  materials  with  which  to  reconstruct 
the  history  of  his  latter  days. 

Ijwtly  came  the  work,  long  expected,  of 
M.  Mignet,  "  Charles-Quint ;  ton  Abdication, 


son  Sejour,  et  sa  Mart  au  Monastlre  de 
Yuste.  It  was  the  reproduction,  in  a  more 
extended  and  elaborate  form,  uf  a  series  of 
papers,  the  first  of  which  appeared  shortly 
after  the  publication  of  Mr.  Stirling's  book. 
In  this  work  the  French  author  takes  the 
clear  and  comprehensive  view  of  his  subject 
so  characteristic  of  his  genius.  The  difficult 
and  debatable  points  he  discusses  with  acute- 
ness  and  precision ;  and  the  whole  story  of 
Charles's  monastic  life  he  presents  in  so 
luminous  an  aspect  to  the  reader  as  leaves 
nothing  further  to  be  desired. 

The  critic  may  take  some  interest  in  com- 
paring the  different  manners  hi  which  the 
several  writers  have  dealt  with  the  subject, 
each  according  to  his  own  taste  or  the  bent  of 
his  genius.  Thus,  through  Stirling's  mure 
free  and  familiar  narrative  there  runs  a  plea- 
sant vein  of  humour,  wiih  piquancy  enouith 
to  give  it  a  relish,  showing  the  author's  sen- 
sibility to  the  ludicrous,  for  which  Charles's 
stingy  habits  and  excessive  love  of  good 
cheer,  even  in  the  convent,  furnish  frequent 
occasion. 

Quite  a  different  conception  is  formed  by 
Mignet  of  t^e  emperor's  character,  which  he 
has  cast  in  the  true  heroic  mould,  not  deign- 
ing in  recognize  a  single  defect,  however 
slight,  which  may  at  all  impair  the  majesty 
of  the  proportions.  Finally,  Amedee  Pichot, 
instp.nl  of  the  classical,  may  be  said  to  have 
conformed  to  the  romantic  school  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  his  subject,  indulging  in  various 
picturesque  episodes,  which  be  has,  however, 
combined  so  successfully  with  the  main  body 
of  the  narrative  as  not  to  impair  the  unity  of 
interest. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  conjpara- 
tive  merits  of  these  eminent  writers  in  the 
execution  of  their  task,  the  effect  of  their 
labours  has  undoubtedly  been  to  make  that 
the  plainest  which  was  before  the  most  ob- 
scure portion  of  the  history  of  Charles  the 
Fifth. 


BOOK  n. 

CHAPTER  L 

VIEW  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

Civil  Institutions — Commercial  Prosperity — Character  of  the  People— Protestant  Doctrines— 
Persecution  by  Charles  the  Fifth. 

WE  have  now  come  to  that  portion  of  the  narrative  which  seems  to  be  rather 
in  the  nature  of  an  episode  than  part  and  parcel  of  our  history  ;  though  from 
its  magnitude  and  importance  it  is  better  entitled  to  be  treated  as  an  inde- 
pendent history  by  itself.  This  is  the  War  of  the  Netherlands ;  opening  the 
way  to  that  great  series  of  revolutions,  the  most  splendid  example  of  which  is 
furnished  by  our  own  happy  land.  Before  entering  on  this  vast  theme,  it  will 
be  well  to  give  a  brief  view  of  the  country  which  forms  the  subject  of  it. 

At  the  accession  of  Philip  the  Second,  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  the  Netherlands,  or  Flanders,  as  the  country  was  then  usually  called,1 
comprehended  seventeen  provinces,  occupying  much  the  same  territory,  but 
somewhat  abridged,  with  that  included  in  the  present  kingdoms  of  Holland 
and  Belgium.2  These  provinces,  under  the  various  denominations  of  duchies, 
counties,  and  lordships,  formed  anciently  so  many  separate  states,  each  under 
the  rule  of  its  respective  prince.  Even  when  two  or  three  of  them,  as  some- 
times happened,  were  brought  together  under  one  sceptre,  each  still  main- 
tained its  own  independent  existence.  In  their  institutions  these  states  bore 
great  resemblance  to  one  another,  and  especially  in  the  extent  of  the  immu- 
nities conceded  to  the  citizens  as  compared  with  those  enjoyed  in  most  of  the 
countries  of  Christendom.  No  tax  could  be  imposed  without  the  consent  of 
an  assembly  consisting  of  the  clergy,  the  nobles,  and  the  representatives  of 
the  towns.  No  foreigner  was  eligible  to  office,  and  the  native  of  one  province 
was  regarded  as  a  foreigner  by  every  other.  These  were  insisted  on  as  inalien- 
able rights,  although  in  later  times  none  were  more  frequently  disregarded  by 
the  rulers.* 

1  "  Vocatur  qnoque  synechdochice,  per  nni-  '  These  provinces  were  the  duchies  of 
versam  ferine  Europam,  Flandria,  idque  ob  Brabant,  Limburg,  Luxembourg,  and  Guel- 
cjus  iTovinciae  potentiam  atque  splendorem  :  dres  ;  the  counties  of  Artois,  Hainault,  Flan- 
quainvis  .-int,  qui  contendant,  vocabulum  ders,  Namur,  Zutpben,  Holland,  and  Zealand ; 
ipsum  Flandria,  a  frequenti  exterorum  in  ea  the  margraviate  of  Antwerp ;  and  the  lord- 
quondam  Provincia  mercatorum  comntercio,  ships  of  Friesland,  Mechlin,  Utrecht,  Overys- 
derivatum.  atque  inde  in  omnes  partes  diffu-  sel,  and  Groningen. 

sum  ;  alii  nirsus,  quod  ha?c  ipsa   Flandria,  "  Basnage,   Annales  des    Provinces-Unies, 

strictius  sumta,  Oallis,  Anglis.  Hispanic,  at-  avec  la  Description  historiquede  leur  Gou- 

que  Italis  sit  vicinior,  idcoque  et  notior  simul  vernement  (La  Haye,  1719),   torn.  i.  p.  3. — 

et  celebrior,  totam  Belgian!  eo  nomine  indigi-  Guiccixrdini,    Belpicae   Descriptio,   p.  81,   et 

tatam    perhibent."     Ouii  ciarrtini,    Belgictp,  seq.— The  V>n  tian  minister  Tinpolo  warmly 

Five  Inferiorie  Germanic  Descriptio  (Amstelo-  commends  the  loyalty  of  tht  ge  people  to  their 

dauii,  1652),  p.  6.  princes,  not  to  be  shaken  so  long  as  their 


CIVIL  INSTITUTIONS.  143 

The  condition  of  the  commons  in  the  Netherlands  during  the  Middle  Ages 
was  far  in  advance  of  what  it  was  in  most  other  European  countries  at  the 
same  period.  For  this  they  were  indebted  to  the  character  of  the  people,  or 
rather  to  the  peculiar  circumstances  which  formed  that  character.  Occupying 
a  soil  which  had  been  redeemed  with  infinite  toil  and  perseverance  from  the 
waters,  their  life  was  passed  in  perpetual  struggle  with  the  elements.  They 
were  early  familiarized  to  the  dangers  of  the  ocean.  The  Flemish  mariner 
was  distinguished  for  the  intrepid  spirit  with  which  he  pushed  his  voyages 
into  distant  and  unknown  seas.  An  extended  commerce  opened  to  him  a 
wide  range  of  observation  and  experience  ;  and  to  the  bold  and  hardy  cha- 
racter of  the  ancient  Netherlander  was  added  a  spirit  of  enterprise,  with  such 
enlarged  and  liberal  views  as  fitted  him  for  taking  part  in  the  great  concerns 
of  the  community.  Villages  and  towns  grew  up  rapidly.  Wealth  flowed  in 
from  this  commercial  activity,  and  the  assistance  which  these  little  communi- 
ties were  thus  enabled  to  afford  their  princes  drew  from  the  latter  the  conces- 
sion of  important  political  privileges,  which  established  the  independence  of 
the  citizen. 

The  tendency  of  things,  however,  was  still  to  maintain  the  distinct  individu- 
ality of  the  provinces,  rather  than  to  unite  them  into  a  common  political  body. 
They  were  peopled  by  different  races,  speaking  different  languages.  In  some 
of  the  provinces  French  was  spoken,  in  others  a  dialect  of  the  German.  Their 
position,  moreover,  had  often  brought  these  petty  states  into  rivalry,  and 
sometimes  into  open  war,  with  one  another.  The  effects  of  these  feuds  con- 
tinued after  the  causes  of  them  had  passed  away  ;  and  mutual  animosities  still 
lingered  in  the  breasts  of  the  inhabitants,  operating  as  a  permanent  source  of 
disunion. 

From  these  causes,  after  the  greater  part  of  the  provinces  had  been  brought 
together  under  the  sceptre  of  the  ducal  house  of  Burgundy,  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  it  was  found  impossible  to  fuse  them  into  one  nation.  Even  Charles 
the  Fitth,  with  all  his  power  and  personal  influence,  found  himself  unequal  to 
the  task.'  He  was  obliged  to  relinquish  the  idea  of  consolidating  the  different 
states  into  one  monarchy,  and  to  content  himself  with  the  position — not  too 
grateful  to  a  Spanish  despot — of  head  of  a  republic,  or,  to  speak  more  properly, 
of  a  confederacy  of  republics. 

There  was,  however,  some  approach  made  to  a  national  unity  in  the  institu- 
tions which  grew  up  after  the  states  were  brought  together  under  one  sceptre. 
Thus,  while  each  of  the  provinces  maintained  its  own  courts  of  justice,  there 
was  a  supreme  tribunal  established  at  Mechlin,  with  appellate  jurisdiction 
over  all  the  provincial  tribunals.  In  like  manner,  while  each  state  had  its  own 
legislative  assembly,  there  were  the  states-general,  consisting  of  the  clergy, 
the  nobles,  and  the  representatives  of  the  towns,  from  each  of  the  provinces. 
In  this  assembly — but  rarely  convened— were  discussed  the  great  questions 
having  reference  to  the  interests  of  the  whole  country.  But  the  assembly  was 
vested  with  no  legislative  authority.  It  could  go  no  further  than  to  present 
petitions  to  the  sovereign  for  the  redress  of  grievances.  It  possessed  no  right 
beyond  the  right  of  remonstrance.  Even  in  questions  of  taxation,  no  sub- 

constitutional     privileges    were    respected :  lefcil  et  ai.toriti,  ne  cbe  oc  t   loro  ct.-iti   B' 

••  Sempre  si  le ROIIU  moHtrati  quei  Popoli  motto  int P •< l»"--s.  n >  nuove  If*gg1,  rt  nnove  ordlnl  ml 

affettkmail  et   amorevoli,  contentatidofl    dc  Inptantln    massime,  et    pcrrlcordo  dt    p«rt« 

eater  gravatl  senza  che  mai   facesse   alcun  straniera."     Rclatlonedi  M.  A.  Tiopolo,  ritor- 

r>«entlmento  forte  plfi  de  I'honesto.     Ma  co*i  nato  Ambasclatore  dal  Sen"*   He  Cattolico, 

rome  in  qucttta  parte  sempre  hanno  tnontrato  1567.  MS. 

la  sua  prontezza  cort  «ono  siati  duri  et  dim-  •  ftiitnage,   Amities  dm    Provlncet-Unies. 

cill,  che  ponto  le  fossero  smlnultt  11  loroprivl-  torn.  i.  p.  8. 


144  VIEW  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

sidy  could  be  settled  in  that  body  without  the  express  sanction  of  each  of  the 
provincial  legislatures.  Such  a  form  of  government,  it  must  be  admitted,  was 
altogether  too  cumbrous  in  its  operations  for  efficient  executive  movement. 
It  was  by  no  means  favourable  to  the  promptness  and  energy  demanded  for 
military  enterprise.  But  it  was  a  government  which,  however  ill  suited  in 
this  respect  to  the  temper  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  was  well  suited  to  the  genius 
of  the  inhabitants,  and  to  their  circumstances,  which  demanded  peace.  They 
had  no  ambition  for  foreign  conquest.  By  the  arts  of  peace  they  had  risen  to 
this  unprecedented  pitch  of  prosperity,  and  by  peace  alone,  not  by  war,  could 
they  hope  to  maintain  it 

But  under  the  long  rule  of  the  Burgundian  princes,  and  still  more  under 
that  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  the  people  of  the  Netherlands  felt  the  influence  of 
those  circumstances  which  in  other  parts  of  Europe  were  gradually  compelling 
the  popular,  or  rather  the  feudal,  element  to  give  way  to  the  spirit  of  centraliza- 
tion. Thus  in  time  the  sovereign  claimea  the  right  of  nominating  all  the 
higher  clergy.  In  some  instances  he  appointed  the  judges  of  the  provincial 
courts  ;  aim  the  supreme  tribunal  of  Mechlin  was  so  far  dependent  on  his 
authority  that  all  the  judges  were  named  and  their  salaries  paid  by  the  crown. 
The  sovereign's  authority  was  even  stretched  so  far  as  to  interfere  not  unfre- 
quently  with  the  rights  exercised  by  the  citizens  in  the  election  of  their  own 
magistrates, — rights  that  should  have  been  cherished  by  them  as  of  the  last 
importance.  As  for  the  nobles,  we  cannot  over-estimate  the  ascendency  which 
the  master  of  an  empire  like  that  of  Charles  the  Fifth  must  have  obtained 
over  men  to  whom  he  could  open  such  boundless  prospects  in  the  career  of 
ambition.* 

But  the  personal  character  and  the  peculiar  position  of  Charles  tended  still 
further  to  enlarge  the  royal  authority.  He  was  a  Fleming  by  birth.  He  had 
all  the  tastes  and  habits  of  a  Fleming.  His  early  days  had  been  passed  in 
Flanders,  and  he  loved  to  return  to  his  native  land  as  often  as  his  busy  life 
would  permit  him,  and  to  seek  in  the  free  and  joyous  society  of  the  Flemish 
capitals  some  relief  from  the  solemn  ceremonial  of  the  Castilian  court.  This 
preference  of  their  lord  was  repaid  by  the  people  of  the  Netherlands  with 
feelings  of  loyal  devotion. 

But  they  had  reason  for  feelings  of  deeper  gratitude  in  the  substantial 
benefits  which  the  favour  of  Charles  secured  to  them.  It  was  for  Flemings 
that  the  highest  posts  even  in  Spain  were  reserved,  and  the  marked  preference- 
thus  shown  by  tne  emperor  to  his  countrymen  was  one  great  source  of  the 
troubles  in  Castile.  The  soldiers  of  the  Netherlands  accompanied  Charles  on 
his  military  expeditions,  and  their  cavalry  had  the  reputation  of  being  the 
best  appointed  and  best  disciplined  in  the  imperial  army.  The  vast  extent 
of  his  possessions,  spreading  over  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  offered  a  bound- 
less range  for  the  commerce  of  the  Netherlands,  which  was  everywhere  ad- 
mitted on  the  most  favourable  footing.  Notwithstanding  his  occasional  acts 
of  violence  and  extortion,  Charles  was  too  sagacious  not  to  foster  the  material 
interests  of  a  country  which  contributed  so  essentially  to  his  own  resources. 
Under  his  protecting  policy,  the  industry  and  ingenuity  of  the  Flemings 
found  ample  scope  in  the  various  departments  of  husbandry,  manufactures, 
and  trade.  The  country  was  as  thickly  studded  with  large  towns  as  other 
countries  were  with  villages.  In  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  it  was 

1  Basnage,   Annales  des   Provinces-Unies,  usual  discernment,  has  selected  the  particular 

torn.  i.  p.  8. — Benlivoglio,  Guerra  di  Fiandra  facts  that  illustrate  most  forcibly  the  domestic 

(Milano,  1806),  p.  9,  et  seq.— Ranke,  Spanish  policy  of  the  Netherlands  under  Charles  the 

Empire,   p.   79.— The  last  writer,  with  his  Fifth. 


THEIR  COMMERCIAL  PROSPERITY.  145 

computed  to  contain  above  three  hundred  and  fifty  cities,  and  more  than  six 
thousand  three  hundred  towns  of  a  smaller  size.6  These  towns  were  not  the 
resort  of  monks  and  mendicants,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  Continent,  but  they 
swarmed  with  a  busy,  laborious  population.  No  man  ate  the  bread  of  idleness 
in  the  Netherlands.  At  the  period  with  which  we  are  occupied,  Ghent  counted 
seventy  thousand  inhabitants,  Brussels  seventy-five  thousand,  and  Antwerp 
one  hundred  thousand.  This  was  at  a  period  when  London  itself  contained 
but  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.7 

The  country,  fertilized  by  its  countless  canals  and  sluices,  exhibited  every- 
where that  minute  and  patient  cultivation  which  distinguishes  it  at  the  pre- 
sent day,  but  which  in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  had  no  parallel  but 
in  the  lands  tilled  by  the  Moorish  inhabitants  of  the  south  of  Spain.  The 
ingenious  spirit  of  the  people  was  shown  in  their  dexterity  in  the  mechanical 
arts,  and  in  the  talent  for  invention  which  seems  to  be  characteristic  of  a 
people  accustomed  from  infancy  to  the  unfettered  exercise  of  their  faculties. 
The  processes  for  simplifying  labour  were  carried  so  far  that  children,  as  we 
are  assured,  began  at  four  or  five  years  of  age  to  earn  a  livelihood.8  Each 
of  the  principal  cities  became  noted  for  its  excellence  in  some  branch  or  other 
of  manufacture.  Lille  was  known  for  its  woollen  cloths,  Brussels  for  its 
tapestry  and  carpets,  Valenciennes  for  its  camlets,  while  the  towns  of  Holland 
and  Zealand  furnished  a  simpler  staple  in  the  form  of  cheese,  butter,  and 
salted  fish.'  These  various  commodities  were  exhibited  at  the  great  fairs  held 
twice  a  year,  for  the  space  of  twenty  days  each,  at  Antwerp,  which  were 
thronged  by  foreigners  as  well  as  natives. 

In  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  the  Flemings  imported  great 
quantities  of  wool  from  England,  to  be  manufactured  into  cloth  at  home.  But 
Flemish  emigrants  had  carried  that  manufacture  to  England ;  and  in  the 
time  of  Philip  the  Second  the  cloths  themselves  were  imported  from  the  latter 
country  to  the  amount  of  above  five  millions  of  crowns  annually,  and  ex- 
changed for  the  domestic  products  of  the  Netherlands.10  This  single  item  of 
trade  with  one  of  their  neighbours  may  suggest  some  notion  of  the  extent  of 
the  commerce  of  the  Low  Countries  at  this  period. 

But  in  truth  the  commerce  of  the  country  stretched  to  the  remotest  corners 
of  the  globe.  The  inhabitants  of  the  Netherlands,  trained  from  early  youth 
to  battle  with  the  waves,  found  their  true  element  on  the  ocean.  "  As  much 
as  Nature,"  says  an  enthusiastic  writer,  "restricted  their  domain  on  land,  so 
much  the  more  did  they  extend  their  empire  on  the  deep."11  Their  fleets 

•  "  Urbes  in  pa  sive  rncenibus  clausie,  sive       scriptlo,  p.  55. 

clausis  magnitudine propemodum pares,  supra  *  Relations  dl  M.  Cavallo  tomato  Ambas- 

trecentas  et  quiuquaginta  censeantur  ;  pagi  ciatore  dal  Imperatore.  1551,  MS. — The  am- 

veru  majores  ultra  sex  millia  ac  trecontos  baraador  does  not  hesitate  to  compare  Ant- 

numerentur,  ut  nlhll  de  miriiMrfnus  vicls  arci-  werp,  for  the  extent  of  its  commerce,  to  Ms 

busqne  !•  qiinr,  quibun  supra  omnem  nume-  own  proud  city  of  Venice  :  "  Anversa  corrl- 

rntn  consltus  est  Belgictw  ager."    Strada,  De  xponde   di   mercantia  benissimo  a  Venetia, 

B«llo  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  32.  Ixwania  dl  studio  a  I'adova,  liante  prr  gran- 

'  Gulcciardinl.  Belglca;  Dcscrlptlo.  p.  207,  dozza  a  Verona,  lirusscllis  per  il  situ  a  Bns- 

et  seq.— The  geographer  gives  nil  the  popu-  cla." 

latlon  of  several   of   the  most  considerable  '"  "  Llquido  enlm    constat,    eorum,   anno 

capitals  In  Europe  in  the  middle  of  the  six-  annum pensante,  etcariKa-isalilsquepanniculm 

teenth  century.    That  of  Paris,  amounting  to  ad  Integros  pannue  reductis,  ducenta  et  am- 

300,000,  seems  to  have  much  exceeded  that  plius  mUllaannuatlm  nuMsdlstribui,  quorum 

of  every  other  great  city  except  Moxcow.  singull  minimum  wstimentur  viccnis  qninls 

•  "Atquehlnc  adeo  fit,  ut  1st!  opera  sua  ea  scutatis,  Itaut  Inquinqup  etampliu*  inillionos 
dextcritatc,  facilitate,  oidiiieque  dlsponant,  ut  ratio  tandem  excrescat."    Guicciardini,  Bel- 
et  parvull,  ac  quadrlenn>-8  modo  aut  quln-  glcw  Descrlptio.  p.  244. 

quenn<>«  eorum  fliloll.  virtiim  illlco  slbl  i-i-  "  "Qua!  vero  Ignolamarliim  lltora,  qu/isvo 

cipiant  quserere."    Guicciardini,  Uclgica;  De-       desiueiuU  mundl  oraa  rerutata  uon  csi  \:<\- 

L 


146  VIEW  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

were  to  be  found  on  every  sea.  In  the  Enxine  and  in  the  Mediterranean 
they  were  rivals  of  the  Venetian  and  the  Genoese,  and  they  contended  with 
the  English,  and  even  with  the  Spaniards,  for  superiority  on  the  "  narrow 
seas  "  and  the  great  ocean. 

The  wealth  which  flowed  into  the  country  from  this  extended  trade  was 
soon  shown  in  the  crowded  population  of  its  provinces  and  the  splendour  of 
their  capitals.  At  the  head  of  these  stood  the  city  of  Antwerp,  which 
occupied  the  place  in  the  sixteenth  century  that  Bruges  had  occupied  in  the 
fifteenth,  as  the  commercial  metropolis  of  the  Netherlands.  Two  hundred 
and  fifty  vessels  might  often  be  seen  at  the  same  time  taking  in  their  cargoes 
at  her  quays.12  Two  thousand  loaded  wagons  from  the  neighbouring  countries 
of  France,  Germany,  and  Lorraine  daily  passed  through  her  gates ; 1S  and  a 
greater  number  of  vessels,  freighted  with  merchandise  from  different  quarters 
of  the  world,  were  to  be  seen  floating  at  the  same  time  on  the  waters  of  the 
Scheldt.14 

The  city,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  Brabant,  was  distinguished  by  certain 
political  privileges,  which  commended  it  as  a  place  of  residence  even  to 
foreigners.  Women  of  the  other  provinces,  it  is  said,  when  the  time  of  their 
confinement  drew  near,  would  come  to  Brabant,  that  their  offspring  might 
claim  the  franchises  of  this  favoured  portion  of  the  Netherlands.15  So  jealous 
were  the  people  of  this  province  of  their  liberties,  that  in  their  oath  of 
allegiance  to  their  sovereign,  on  his  accession,  it  was  provided  that  this 
allegiance  might  lawfully  be  withheld  whenever  he  ceased  to  respect  their 
privileges.18 

Under  the  shelter  of  its  municipal  rights,  foreigners  settled  in  great 
numbers  in  Antwerp.  The  English  established  a  factory  there.  There  was 
also  a  Portuguese  company,  an  Italian  company,  a  company  of  merchants  from 
the  Hanse  Towns,  and,  lastly,  a  Turkish  company,  which  took  up  its  residence 
there  for  the  purpose  of  pursuing  a  trade  with  the  Levant.  A  great  traffic 
was  carried  on  in  bills  of  exchange.  Antwerp,  in  short,  became  the  banking- 
house  of  Europe ;  and  capitalists,  the  Rothschilds  of  their  day,  whose  dealings 
were  with  sovereign  princes,  fixed  their  abode  in  Antwerp,  which  was  to  the 
rest  of  Europe  in  the  sixteenth  century  what  London  is  in  the  nineteenth, — 
the  great  heart  of  commercial  circulation.17 

In  1531  the  public  Exchange  was  erected,  the  finest  building  of  its  kind  at 
that  time  anywhere  to  be  seen.  The  city,  indeed,  was  filled  with  stately 
edifices,  the  largest  of  which,  the  great  cathearal,Tiaving  been  nearly  destroyed 
by  fire,  soon  after  the  opening  of  the  Exchange,  was  reouilt,  and  still  remains 
a  noble  specimen  of  the  architectual  science  of  the  time.  Another  age  was  to 
see  the  walls  of  the  same  cathedral  adorned  with  those  exquisite  productions 
of  Rubens  and  his  disciples,  which  raised  the  Flemish  school  to  a  level  with 
the  great  Italian  masters. 

The  rapidly  increasing  opulence  of  the  city  was  visible  in  the  luxurious 
accommodations  and  sumptuous  way  of  living  of  the  inhabitants.  The  mer- 

garum  nautica  ?  Nimirum  quantiillosnatura  locte  parituras  mulieres,  ut  Brabantinas 

intra  fines  terras  contractiores  inclusit,  tanto  immunitates  tiliis  eo  solo  genitis  acquieront, 

ampliures  ipsi  sibi  aperuere  oceani  campos."  credercs  ab  agricolis  eligi  plantaria,  in  quibus 

Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  lib.  i.  p.  32.  enatw  arbiiBculse,  primoqne  illo  terra?  velut 

"  Schiller,  Abfall  der  Niederlamle  (Stutt-  ab  ub»re  lactentep,  ali6  dein  secum  auferant 

gait,  1838).  p.  44.  dotes  hospitalis  soli."  Strada,  De  Bello  Bel- 

11  Ibid.,  ubi  supra.  gico.  lib.  ii.  p.  61. 

14  Burgon,  Life  of  Sir  Thomas  Gresham  '•  Histoire  des  Provinces-Unies  des  Pais- 

(London,  1839),  vol.  i.  p.  2.  Bas  (1-a  Haye.  17H4),  torn.  i.  p.  88. 

11  "In  quorum  (Brabantinorum)  Provin-  "  Guicciardini,  Belgicse  Descriptio,  p.  225, 

Clam  scimus  transferre  se  eolitas  e  vicinis  et  seq. 


PROTESTANT  DOCTRINES.  147 

chants  of  Antwerp  rivalled  the  nobles  of  other  lands  in  the  splendour  of  their 
dress  and  domestic  establishments.  Something  of  the  same  sort  showed 
itself  in  the  middle  classes  ;  and  even  in  those  of  humbler  condition  there  was 
a  comfort  approaching  to  luxury  in  their  households,  which  attracted  the 
notice  of  an  Italian  writer  of  the  sixteenth  century.  He  commends  the 
scrupulous  regard  to  order  and  cleanliness  observed  in  the  arrangement  of  the 
dwellings,  and  expresses  his  admiration  not  only  of  the  careful  attention  given 
by  the  women  to  their  domestic  duties,  but  also  of  their  singular  capacity  for 
conducting  those  business  affairs  usually  reserved  for  the  other  sex.  This  was 
particularly  the  case  in  Holland."  But  this  freedom  of  intercourse  was  no 
disparagement  to  then-  feminine  qualities.  The  liberty  they  assumed  did 
not  degenerate  into  license ;  and  he  concludes  his  animated  portraiture  of 
these  Flemish1  matrons  by  pronouncing  them  as  discreet  as  they  were 
beautiful. 

The  humbler  classes,  in  so  abject  a  condition  in  other  parts  of  Europe  at 
that  day,  felt  the  good  effects  01  this  general  progress  in  comfort  and  civiliza- 
tion. It  was  rare  to  find  one,  we  are  told,  so  illiterate  as  not  to  be  acquainted 
with  the  rudiments  of  grammar  ;  and  there  was  scarcely  a  peasant  who  could 
not  both  read  and  write ; " — this  at  a  time  when  to  read  and  write  were 
accomplishments  not  always  possessed,  in  other  countries,  by  those  even  in 
the  higher  walks  of  life. 

It  was  not  possible  that  a  people  so  well  advanced  in  the  elements  of  civili- 
zation should  long  remain  insensible  to  the  great  religious  reform  which, 
having  risen  on  their  borders,  was  now  rapidly  spreading  over  Christendom. 
Besides  the  contiguity  of  the  Netherlands  to  Germany,  their  commerce  with 
other  countries  had  introduced  them  to  Protestantism  as  it  existed  there. 
The  foreign  residents,  and  the  Swiss  and  German  mercenaries  quartered  in 
the  provinces,  had  imported  along  with  them  these  same  principles  of  the 
Reformation  ;  and,  lastly,  the  Flemish  nobles,  who  at  that  time  were  much  in 
the  fashion  of  going  abroad  to  study  in  Geneva,  returned  from  that  stronghold 
of  Calvin  well  fortified  with  the  doctrines  of  the  great  Reformer."*  Thus  the 
seeds  of  the  Reformation,  whether  in  the  Lutheran  or  the  Calvinistic  form, 
were  scattered  wide  over  the  land,  and  took  root  in  a  congenial  soil.  The 
phlegmatic  temperament  of  the  northern  provinces,  especially,  disposed  them 
to  receive  a  religion  which  addressed  itself  so  exclusively  to  the  reason,  while 
they  were  less  open  to  the  influences  of  Catholicism,  which,  with  its  gorgeous 
accessories,  appealing  to  the  passions,  is  better  suited  to  the  lively  sensibilities 
and  kindling  imaginations  of  the  south. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Charles  the  Fifth  could  long  remain  insensible 
to  this  alarming  defection  of  his  subjects  in  the  Netherlands,  nor  that  the 
man  whose  life  was  passed  in  battling  with  the  Lutherans  of  Germany  could 
patiently  submit  to  see  their  detested  heresy  taking  root  in  his  own  dominions. 
He  dreaded  this  innovation  no  less  in  a  temporal  than  in  a  spiritual  view. 
Experience  had  shown  that  freedom  of  speculation  in  affairs  of  religion 

"  "  Ut  in  multls  terra  Provincils,  Hollandia  tunity  for  ascertaining  the  truth  of  it.  finer, 

nomlnatim  atque  Zclandia,  vlri  omnium  fere  though  an  Italian  by  birth,  he  resided  in  the 

rerum   suarum   curam   u.xoribus  ra-pe  n-lin-  Netherlands  for  fort v  years  or  more, 

quant."    Uuictiardini,  Belgicn  Descrlptlo,  p.  "  Schiller,  Abfall'der  Niederlande,  p.  53.— 

58.  Viuidorvynckt,  HiKtoircde*  I  roubles  des  Pays- 

"  "Major!  gentls  parti  nota  Oammntlca)  Baa  (Kruxellee,  1H22),  tom.  II.  p.  6. — Green 

mdimenta,  et  vel  ip«i  etiam  rustlcl   Icgendl  Van  Prinsterer,  Archives  on  Correopondanre 

•cribendique  peritl  sum."    (iuicciardini,  Kel-  'inedite  de  la  Maison  d'Urange-Nasaau^LeiJe, 

gtcie    Itescriptio.   p.   63.— Gtiicriardini.   who  1841),  tom.  i.  p.  164*. 
states  this  remarkable  (act,  had  ample  oppor- 


148  VIEW  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

naturally  led  to  free  inquiry  into  political  abuses,— that  the  work  of  the 
reformer  was  never  accomplished  so  long  as  anything  remained  to  reform,  in 
state  as  well  as  in  church.  Charles,  with  the  instinct  of  Spanish  despotism, 
sought  a  remedy  in  one  of  those  acts  of  arbitrary  power  m  which  he  indulged 
without  scruple  when  the  occasion  called  for  them. 

In  March,  1520,  he  published  the  first  of  his  barbarous  edicts  for  the  sup- 
pression of  the  new  faith.  It  was  followed  by  several  others  of  the  same 
tenor,  repeated  at  intervals  throughout  his  reign.  The  last  appeared  in  Sep- 
tember, 1550."  As  this  in  a  manner  suspended  those  that  had  preceded  it, 
to  which,  however,  it  substantially  conformed,  and  as  it  became  the  basis  of 
Philip's  subsequent  legislation,  it  will  be  well  to  recite  its  chief  provisions. 

By  this  edict— or  "  placard,"  as  it  was  called— it  was  ordained  that  all  who 
were  convicted  of  heresy  should  suffer  death  "  by  fire,  by  the  pit,  or  by  the 
sword," M— in  other  words,  should  be  burned  alive,  be  buried  alive,  or  lie 
beheaded.  These  terrible  penalties  were  incurred  by  all  who  dealt  in  heretical 
books  or  copied  or  bought  them,  by  all  who  held  or  attended  conventicles,  by 
all  who  disputed  on  the  Scriptures  in  public  or  private,  by  all  who  preached 
or  defended  the  doctrines  of  reform.  Informers  were  encouraged  by  the  pro- 
mise of  one-half  of  the  confiscated  estate  of  the  heretic.  No  suspected  person 
was  allowed  to  make  any  donation,  or  sell  any  of  his  effects,  or  dispose  of  them 
by  will.  Finally,  the  courts  were  instructed  to  grant  no  remission  or  miti- 
gation of  punishment  under  the  fallacious  idea  of  mercy  to  the  convicted 
party,  and  it  was  made  penal  for  the  friends  of  the  accused  to  solicit  such 
indulgence  on  his  behalf. M 

The  more  thoroughly  to  enforce  these  edicts,  Charles  took  a  hint  from  the 
terrible  tribunal  with  which  he  was  familiar  in  Spain, — the  Inquisition.  He 
obtained  a  bull  from  his  old  preceptor,  Adrian  the  Sixth,  appointing  an 
inquisitor-general,  who  had  authority  to  examine  persons  suspected  of  heresy, 
to  imprison  and  torture  them,  to  confiscate  their  property,  and  finally  sen- 
tence them  to  banishment  or  death.  These  formidable  powers  were  intrusted 
to  a  layman, — a  lawyer  of  eminence,  and  one  of  the  council  of  Brabant.  But 
this  zealous  functionary  employed  his  authority  with  so  good  effect  that  it 
speedily  roused  the  general  indignation  of  his  countrymen,  who  compelled  him 
to  fly  for  his  life. 

By  another  bull  from  Ronie,  four  inquisitors  were  appointed  in  the  place  of 
the  fugitive.  These  inquisitors  were  ecclesiastics,  not  of  the  fierce  Dominican 
order,  as  in  Spain,  but  members  of  the  secular  clergy.  All  public  officers 
were  enjoined  to  aid  them  in  detecting  and  securing  suspected  persons,  and 
the  common  prisons  were  allotted  for  the  confinement  of  their  victims. 

The  people  would  seem  to  have  gained  little  by  the  substitution  of  four 
inquisitors  for  one.  But  in  fact  they  gained  a  great  deal.  The  sturdy  resist- 
ance made  to  the  exercise  of  the  unconstitutional  powers  of  the  inquisitor- 
general  compelled  Charles  to  bring  those  of  the  new  functionaries  more  within 
the  limits  of  the  law.  For  twenty  years  or  more  their  powers  seem  not  to 
have  been  well  defined.  But  in  1546  it  was  decreed  that  no  sentence  what- 
ever could  be  pronounced  by  an  inquisitor  without  the  sanction  of  some 
member  of  the  provincial  council.  Thus,  however  barbarous  the  law  against 

31  The  whole  number  of  "  placards  "  issued  M  Meteren,  Histoire  des  Pays-Bas,  ou  Ke- 

by  Charles  the  Fifth  amounted  to  eleven.  cueil  des  Guerres  et  Cho.-es  memorables. 

See  the  dates  in  Gachard,  Correspondence  de  depuis  1'An  1315,  jusques  a  1'An  1612,  traduit 

Philippe  II.  sur  les  Affaires  des  Pays-Bas  du  Flanmnd(La  Haye,  1618),  fol.  10. — Brandt, 
(Bruxelles,  1848),  torn.  i.  pp.  105,  106.  •  History  of  the  Reformation  in  the  Low 

"  "  Le  fir,  la  fosse,  et  le  feu."  Gachard,  Counties,  translated  from  the  Dutch  (London, 

Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  ubi  supra.  172U),  vol.  i.  p.  88. 


PERSECUTION  BY  CHARLES  THE  FIFTH.  149 

heresy,  the  people  of  the  Netherlands  had  this  security,  that  it  was  only  by 
their  own  regular  courts  of  justice  that  this  law  was  to  be  interpreted  and 
enforced,24 

Such  were  the  expedients  adopted  by  Charles  the  Fifth  for  the  suppression 
of  heresy  in  the  Netherlands.  Notwithstanding  the  name  of  "  inquisitors," 
the  new  establishment  bore  faint  resemblance  to  the  dread  tribunal  of  the 
Spanish  Inquisition,  with  which  it  has  been  often  confounded.2*  The  Holy 
Office  presented  a  vast  and  complicated  machinery,  skilfully  adapted  to  the 
existing  institutions  of  Castile.  It  may  be  said  to  have  formed  part  of  the 
government  itself,  and,  however  restricted  in  its  original  design,  it  became  in 
time  a  formidable  political  engine,  no  less  than  a  religious  one.  The  grand 
inquisitor  was  clothed  with  an  authority  before  which  the  monarch  himself 
might  tremble.  Un  some  occasions  he  even  took  precedence  of  the  monarch. 
The  courts  of  the  Inquisition  were  distributed  throughout  the  country,  and 
were  conducted  with  a  solemn  pomp  that  belonged  to  no  civil  tribunal.  Spa- 
cious buildings  were  erected  for  their  accommodation,  and  the  gigantic  prisons 
of  the  Inquisition  rose  up,  like  impregnable  fortresses,  in  the  principal  cities 
of  the  kingdom.  A  swarm  of  menials  and  officials  waited  to  do  its  bidding. 
The  proudest  nobles  of  the  land  held  it  an  honour  to  serve  as  familiars  of  the 
Holy  Office.  In  the  midst  of  this  external  pomp,  the  impenetrable  veil  thrown 
over  its  proceedings  took  strong  hold  of  the  imagination,  investing  the  tribunal 
with  a  sort  of  supernatural  terror.  An  individual  disappeared  from  the  busy 
scenes  of  life.  No  one  knew  whither  he  had  gone,  till  he  reappeared,  clothed 
in  the  fatal  garb  of  the  san  benito,  to  take  part  in  the  tragic  spectacle  of 
an  auto  <lefe.  This  was  the  great  triumph  of  the  Inquisition,  rivalling  the 
ancient  Roman  triumph  in  the  splendour  of  the  show,  and  surpassing  it  in 
the  solemn  and  mysterious  import  of  the  ceremonial.  It  was  hailed  with 
enthusiasm  by  the  fanatical  Spaniard  of  that  day,  who  in  the  martyrdom  of 
the  infidel  saw  only  a  sacrifice  most  acceptable  to  the  Deity.  The  Inquisition 
succeeded  in  Spain,  for  it  was  suited  to  trie  character  of  the  Spaniard. 

But  it  was  not  suited  to  the  free  and  independent  character  of  the  people 
of  the  Netherlands.  Freedom  of  thought  they  claimed  as  their  birthright ; 
and  the  attempt  to  crush  it  by  introducing  the  pernicious  usages  of  Spain 
was  everywhere  received  with  execration.  Such  an  institution  was  an  acci- 
dent, and  could  not  become  an  integral  part  of  the  constitution.  It  was  a 
vicious  graft  on  a  healthy  stock.  It  could  bear  no  fruit,  and  sooner  or  later  it 
must  perish. 

Yet  the  Inquisition,  such  as  it  was,  did  its  work  while  it  lasted  in  the 
Netherlands.  This  is  true,  at  least,  if  we  are  to  receive  the  popular  statement 
fiat  fifty  thousand  persons,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  suffered  for 
their  religious  opinions  by  the  hand  of  the  executioner  !  *•  This  monstrous 
statement  has  been  repeated  by  one  historian  after  another,  with  apparently 
as  little  distrust  as  examination.  It  affords  one  among  many  examples  of 

74  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  Quod  fals6  populo  a   quibusdam   persuade- 

p.   108.  —  ( initiiiH,    Annal'-H  et  Hlmoria:  de  tur,  ut  nomine  ipso    retn  <xli"sain   rrtMant, 

Rebus  BelKiciB(Amstelttdanii,  1657),  p.  11. —  cum  nulla  alia  ab  Cie^are   sit  insiltuta    in- 

Brundt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Countries,  qulxltio,    quam  ea,    qua*    cum  jure    §cripto 

vol.  I.  p.  8X.  icillcet  Canonlco,  convenit,  et  uHlUtta  antea 

"•  Vlglius,  afterwards  president  of  the  privy  fuit  in  hac  Provincia."  Vi(?lii  EpiHtola-  Se- 
councll,  gays  plainly,  in  one  of  bin  letters  to  •  N-i-Nr,  ap.  Hoynck,  Analectn  Helgica  (Hago; 

Uranvelle,  that  the  name  of  Spaniik  Inquixi-  Comituni,  1743),  turn.  11.  pars  I.  p.  349. 

tion  wan  fastened  on  the  Hemisli  In  ord'-r  to  -  Orotlus  swell*  the  number  to  one  hundred 

make  It  odious  to  the  people:  "Queruntur  thousand!    (Annale*.  p.  12.)     It  is  all  one: 

autem   Imprimis,  a  nnbls  novam    Induct  im  beyond  a  certain  point  of  the  Incredible,  one 

tnqiilHltionriu,    quam     vocaut     Hispanlcam.  ceaHCfl  to  estimate  probabilities. 


150  VIEW  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

the  facility  with  which  men  adopt  the  most  startling  results,  especially  when 
conveyed  in  the  form  of  numerical  estimates.  There  is  something  that  strikes 
the  imagination  in  a  numerical  estimate  which  settles  a  question  so  sum- 
marily, in  a  form  so  precise  and  so  portable.  Yet  whoever  has  had  occasion 
to  make  any  researches  into  the  past — that  land  of  uncertainty — will  agree 
that  there  is  nothing  less  entitled  to  confidence. 

In  the  present  instance,  such  a  statement  might  seem  to  carry  its  own  refu- 
tation on  the  face  of  it.  Llorente,  the  celebrated  secretary  of  the  Holy  Office, 
whose  estimates  will  never  be  accused  of  falling  short  of  the  amount,  computes 
the  whole  number  of  victims  sacrificed  during  the  first  eighteen  years  of  the 
Inquisition  in  Castile,  when  it  was  in  most  active  operation,  at  about  ten 
thousand.27  The  storm  of  persecution  there,  it  will  be  remembered,  fell  chiefly 
on  the  Jews,— that  ill-omened  race,  from  whom  every  pious  Catholic  would 
have  rejoiced  to  see  his  land  purified  by  fire  and  fagot.  It  will  hardJy  be 
believed  that  five  times  the  number  of  these  victims  perished  in  a  country  like 
the  Netherlands,  in  a  term  of  time  not  quite  double  that  occupied  for  their 
extermination  in  Spain, — the  Netherlands,  where  every  instance  of  such  per- 
secution, instead  of  being  hailed  as  a  triumph  of  the  Cross,  was  regarded  as  a 
fresh  outrage  on  the  liberties  of  the  nation.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that 
such  a  number  of  martyrs  as  that  pretended  would  have  produced  an  explosion 
that  would  have  unsettled  the  authority  of  Charles  himself,  and  left  for  his 
successor  less  territory  in  the  Netherlands  at  the  beginning  of  his  reign  than 
he  was  destined  to  have  at  the  end  of  it. 

Indeed,  the  frequent  renewal  of  the  edicts,  which  was  repeated  no  less  than 
nine  times  during  Charles's  administration,  intimates  plainly  enough  the  very 
sluggish  and  unsatisfactory  manner  in  which  they  had  been  executed.  In 
some  provinces,  as  Luxembourg  and  Groningen,  the  Inquisition  was  not  intro- 
duced at  all.  Gueldres  stood  on  its  privileges,  guaranteed  to  it  by  the  emperor 
on  his  accession.  And  Brabant  so  effectually  remonstrated  on  the  mischief 
which  the  mere  name  of  the  Inquisition  would  do  to  the  trade  of  the  country, 
and  especially  of  Antwerp,  its  capital,  that  the  emperor  deemed  it  prudent  to 
qualify  some  of  the  provisions  ana  to  drop  the  name  of  Inquisitor  altogether.28 
There  is  no  way  more  sure  of  rousing  the  sensibilities  of  a  commercial  people 
than  by  touching  their  pockets.  Charles  did  not  care  to  press  matters  to  such 
extremity.  He  was  too  politic  a  prince,  too  large  a  gainer  by  the  prosperity 
of  his  people,  willingly  to  put  it  in  peril,  even  for  conscience'  sake.  In  this  lay 
the  difference  between  him  and  Philip. 

Notwithstanding,  therefore,  his  occasional  abuse  of  power,  and  the  little 
respect  he  may  have  had  at  heart  for  the  civil  rights  of  his  subjects,  the 
government  of  Charles,  as  already  intimated,  was  on  the  whole  favourable  to 
their  commercial  interests.  He  was  well  repaid  by  the  enlarged  resources  of 
the  country,  and  the  aid  they  afforded  him  for  the  prosecution  of  his  ambitious 
enterprises.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years,  as  we  are  informed  by  a  contempo- 
rary, he  drew  from  the  Netherlands  no  less  than  twenty-four  millions  of 
ducats.29  And  this  supply  —  furnished  not  ungrudgingly,  it  is  true — was 
lavished,  for  the  most  part,  on  objects  in  which  the  nation  had  no  interest. 
In  like  manner,  it  was  the  revenues  of  the  Netherlands  which  defrayed  great 
part  of  Philip's  expenses  in  the  war  that  followed  his  accession.  "Here," 
exclaims  the  Venetian  envoy,  Soriano,  "  were  the  true  treasures  of  the  king  of 

"  Histoire    de     1'Inquisition     d'Espagne  "  "Dondechel'Imperatorehapotutocavare 

(Paris,  1818),  torn.  1.  p.  280.  in  24  million!  d'  oro  in poclii anni."    Relatiune 

"•  Corres|x>ndance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  di  Soriano,  MS. 
pp.  123,  124. 


UNPOPULAR  MANNERS  OF  PHILIP.  151 

Spain  ;  here  were  his  mines,  his  Indies,  which  furnished  Charles  with  the 
means  of  carrying  on  his  wars  for  so  many  years  with  the  French,  the  Germans, 
the  Italians,  which  provided  for  the  defence  of  his  own  states,  and  maintained 
his  dignity  and  reputation." J0 

Such,  then,  was  the  condition  of  the  country  at  the  time  when  the  sceptre 
passed  from  the  hands  of  Charles  the  Fifth  into  those  of  Philip  the  Second, — 
its  broad  plains  teeming  with  the  products  of  an  elaborate  culture,  its  cities 
swarming  with  artisans  skilled  in  all  kinds  of  ingenious  handicraft,  its  com- 
merce abroad  on  every  sea  and  bringing  back  rich  returns  from  distant  climes. 
The  great  body  of  its  people,  well  advanced  in  the  arts  of  civilization,  rejoiced 
in  "  such  abundance  of  all  things,"  says  a  foreigner  who  witnessed  their  pros- 
perity, "that  there  was  no  man,  however  humble,  who  did  not  seem  rich  for 
his  station."*1  In  this  active  development  of  their  powers,  the  inquisitive 
minds  of  the  inhabitants  naturally  turned  to  those  great  problems  in  religion 
which  were  agitating  the  neighbouring  countries  of  France  and  Germany.  All 
the  efforts  of  Charles  were  unavailing  to  check  the  spirit  of  inquiry  ;  and  in 
the  last  year  of  his  reign  he  bitterly  confessed  the  total  failure  of  his  endeavour 
to  stay  the  progress  of  heresy  in  the  Netherlands.**  Well  had  it  been  for  his 
successor  had  he  taken  counsel  by  the  failure  of  his  father  and  substituted  a 
more  lenient  policy  for  the  ineffectual  system  of  persecution.  But  such  was 
not  the  policy  of  Philip. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SYSTEM  ESTABLISHED  BY  PHILIP. 

Unpopular  Manners  of  Philip — He  enforces  the  Edicts — Increase  of  Bishoprics— Margaret  of 
Parma  Urgent — Meeting  of  the  States-General — Their  spirited  Conduct — Organization  of 
the  Councils—  Rise  and  Character  of  Gran  velle — Philip's  Departure. 

1559. 

PHILIP  THE  SECOND  was  no  stranger  to  the  Netherlands.  He  had  come  there, 
as  it  will  be  remembered,  when  very  young,  to  be  presented  by  his  father  to  his 
future  subjects.  On  that  occasion  he  had  greatly  disgusted  the  people  by  that 
impenetrable  reserve  which  they  construed  into  haughtiness,  and  which 
strongly,  contrasted  with  the  gracious  manners  of  the  emperor.  Charles  saw 
with  yftiu  the  impression  which  his  son  had  left  on  his  subjects  ;  and  the 
etiectg  of  his  paternal  admonitions  were  visible  in  a  marked  change  in  Philip's 
department  on  his  subsequent  visit  to  England.  But  nature  lies  deeper  than 
manner ;  and  when  Philip  returned,  on  his  fathers  abdication,  to  assume  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Netherlands,  he  wore  the  same  frigid  exterior  as  in  earlier 
days. 

His  first  step  was  to  visit  the  different  provinces  and  receive  from  theni  their 
oaths  of  allegiance.    No  better  occasion  could  be  offered  for  conciliating  the 

*•  "Quest!  i>ono  li  tesori  del  Ke  di  Spagna,  denari  et  tanto  11  npacciamento  d'  ogni  COM 

queote  le  mlniere,  que.-tc  1'  Indie  che  banno  che  non  vi  e  buomo  per  basso  et  Inerte,  che 

aostenuto   1'   Imprese  dell'   Iniperatore  tantl  slu,  che  per  11  BUG  grado  non  sia  ricco."     Ke- 

anni  nrllf  guerre  dl  Krancia,  •!'  Italia  et  d*  latione  dl  Cavallo,  MS. 

Alemagna,  et  banno  conservato  et  diffeao  11  *"  See  an  extract  from  the  original  letter  of 

stall,  lu  dlgnita  et  la  riputatione  »ua."    Rela-  Charlea,  dated  Hruswls,  January  27th,  1565, 

tione  dl  Soriano,  MS.  ap.  Correspondance  de  Philippe  11.,  loin.  I.  p. 

"  "El  pert  In  ognl  luogo  corrono  lantl  1  cxxil. 


152  SYSTEM  ESTABLISHED  BY   PHILIP. 

good  will  of  the  inhabitants.  Everywhere  his  approach  was  greeted  with  fes- 
tivities and  public  rejoicing.  The  gates  of  the  capitals  were  thrown  open  to 
receive  him,  and  the  population  thronged  out,  eager  to  do  homage  to  their  new 
sovereign.  It  was  a  season  of  jubilee  for  the  whole  nation. 

In  this  general  rejoicing,  Philip's  eye  alone  remained  dark.1  Shut  up  in  his 
carriage,  he  seemed  desirous  to  seclude  himself  from  the  gaze  of  his  new 
subjects,  who  crowded  around,  anxious  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  their  young 
monarch.*  His  conduct  seemed  like  a  rebuke  of  their  enthusiasm.  Thus 
chilled  as  they  were  in  the  first  flow  of  their  loyalty,  his  progress  through  the 
land,  which  should  have  won  him  all  hearts,  closed  all  hearts  against  him. 

The  emperor,  when  he  visited  the  Netherlands,  was  like  one  coming  back  to 
his  native  country.  He  spoke  the  language  of  the  people,  dressed  in  their 
dress,  conformed  to  their  usages  and  way  of  life.  But  Philip  was  in  every- 
thing a  Spaniard.  He  spoke  only  the  Oastilian.  He  adopted  the  Spanish 
etiquette  and  burdensome  ceremonial.  He  was  surrounded  by  Spaniards, 
and,  with  few  exceptions,  it  was  to  Spaniards  only  that  he  gave  his  confidence. 
Charles  had  disgusted  his  Spanish  subjects  by  the  marked  preference  he  had 
given  to  his  Flemish.  The  reverse  now  took  place,  and  Philip  displeased  the 
Flemings  by  his  partiality  for  the  Spaniards.  The  people  of  the  Netherlands 
felt  with  bitterness  that  the  sceptre  of  their  country  had  passed  into  the  hands 
of  a  foreigner. 

During  his  progress  Philip  caused  reports  to  be  prepared  for  him  of  the 
condition  of  the  several  provinces,  their  population  and  trade, — presenting  a 
mass  of  statistical  details,  in  which,  with  his  usual  industry,  he  was  careful  to 
instruct  himself.  On  his  return,  his  first  concern  was  to  provide  for  the 
interests  of  religion.  He  renewed  his  father's  edicts  relating  to  the  inquisi- 
tion, and  in  the  following  year  confirmed  the  "  placard "  respecting  heresy. 
In  doing  this,  he  was  careful,  by  the  politic  advice  of  Granvelle,  to  conform  as 
nearly  as  possible  to  the  language  of  the  original  edicts,  that  no  charge  of 
innovation  might  be  laid  to  nim,  and  thus  the  odium  of  these  unpopular 
measures  might  remain  with  their  original  author.* 

But  the  object  which  Philip  had  most  at  heart  was  a  reform  much  needed 
in  the  ecclesiastical  establishment  of  the  country.  It  may  seem  strange  that 
in  all  the  Netherlands  there  were  but  three  bishoprics, — Arras,  Tournay,  and 
Utrecht.  A  large  part  of  the  country  was  incorporated  with  some  one  or 
other  of  the  contiguous  German  dioceses.  The  Flemish  bishoprics  were  of 
enormous  extent.  That  of  Utrecht  alone  embraced  no  less  than  three  hundred 
walled  towns  and  eleven  hundred  churches.4  It  was  impossible  that  any 
pastor,  however  diligent,  could  provide  for  the  wants  of  a  Hock  so  widely 
scattered,  or  that  he  could  exercise  supervision  over  the  clergy  themselves, 
who  had  fallen  into  a  lamentable  decay  both  of  discipline  and  morale. 

Still  greater  evils  followed  from  the  circumstance  of  the  episcopal  authority's 
being  intrusted  to  foreigners.  From  their  ignorance  of  the  institutions  of  the 

1  It  is  the  fine  expression  of  Schiller,  ap-  Antwerp,  in  1560,  "The  Regent  ys  here  still ; 

plied  to  Philip  on  another  occasion.    Abfall  and  every  other  day  rydes  abowght  th  s  town 

.der  Niederlande,  p.  61.  in  her  cowche,  brave  come  le  sol,  trymmed 

*  "  II  SB  cachait  ordinairement  dans  le  fond  after  the  Itallione  fasshone."    Burgon,  Life 

de  son  carosse,  pour  se  deiober  a  la  curiosite  of  Gresham,  vol.  i.  p.  305. 

d'un  peupje  qui  courait  audcvant  de  lui  et  3  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

s'empress<it  a  le  voir;  le  peuple  se  crut  de-  pp.   108,   126. — Vandervynckt,  Troubles  des 

daigne*  et  mepriseV'    Vandervynckt, Troubles  Pays-Has,  torn.  ii.  p.  10.— Brandt.  Reformation 

des  Pays-Bas,  torn.  ii.  p.  17. — Coaches  were  a  in  the  Low  Countries,  torn.  i.  p.  107. 

novelty  then  in  Flanders,  and  indeed  did  not  4  Correspondance  de  Ph;lippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

make  their  appearance  till  some  years  later  p.  94. 
in  London.    Sir  Thomas  Gresbam  writes  from 


INCREASE  OF  BISHOPRICS.  153 

Netherlands,  they  were  perpetually  trespassing  on  the  rights  of  the  nation. 
Another  evil  consequence  was  the  necessity  of  carrying  up  ecclesiastical 
causes,  by  way  of  appeal,  to  foreign  tribunals, — a  thing,  moreover,  scarcely 
practicable  in  time  of  war. 

Charles  the  Fifth,  whose  sagacious  mind  has  left  its  impress  on  the  per- 
manent legislation  of  the  Netherlands,  saw  the  necessity  of  some  reform  in 
this  matter.  He  accordingly  applied  to  Rome  for  leave  to  erect  six  bishoprics, 
in  addition  to  those  previously  existing  in  the  country.  But  his  attention  was 
too  much  distracted  oy  other  objects  to  allow  time  for  completing  his  design. 
With  his  son  Philip,  on  the  other  hand,  no  object  was  allowed  to  come  in 
competition  with  the  interests  of  the  Church.  He  proposed  to  make  the 
reform  on  a  larger  scale  than  his  father  had  done,  and  applied  to  Paul  the 
Fourth  for  leave  to  create  fourteen  bishoprics  and  three  archbishoprics.  The 
chief  difficulty  lay  in  providing  for  the  support  of  the  new  dignitaries.  On 
consultation  with  Granvelle,  who  had  not  been  advised  of  the  scheme  till  after 
Philip's  application  to  Rome,  it  was  arranged  that  the  income  should  be 
furhished  by  the  abbey  lands  of  the  respective  dioceses,  and  that  the  abbeys 
themselves  should  hereafter  be  placed  under  the  control  of  priors  or  provosts 
depending  altogether  on  the  bishops.  Meanwhile,  until  the  bulls  should  be 
received  from  Rome,  it  was  determined  to  keep  the  matter  profoundly  secret. 
It  was  easy  to  foresee  that  a  storm  of  opposition  would  arise,  not  only  among 
those  immediately  interested  in  preserving  the  present  order  of  things,  but 
among  the  great  body  of  the  nobles,  who  would  look  with  an  evil  eye  on  the 
admission  into  their  ranks  of  so  large  a  number  of  persons  servilely  devoted  to 
the  interests  of  the  crown.* 

Having  concluded  his  arrangements  for  the  internal  settlement  of  the 
country,  Thilip  naturally  turned  his  thoughts  towards  Spain.  He  was  the 
more  desirous  of  returning  thither  from  the  reports  he  received  that  even 
that  orthodox  land  was  becoming  every  day  more  tainted  with  the  heretical 
doctrines  so  rife  in  the  neighbouring  countries.  There  were  no  hostilities  to 
detain  him  longer  in  the  Netherlands,  now  that  the  war  with  France  had  been 
brought  to  a  ciose.  The  provinces,  as  we  have  already  stated,  had  furnished 
the  king  with  important  aid  for  carrying  on  that  war,  by  the  grant  of  a  stipu- 
lated annual  tax  for  nine  years.  This  had  not  proved  equal  to  his  necessities. 
It  was  in  vain,  however,  to  expect  any  further  concessions  from  the  states. 
They  had  borne  not  without  murmurs  the  heavy  burdens  laid  on  them  by 
Charles,— a  monarch  whom  they  loved.  They  bore  still  more  impatiently  the 
impositions  of  a  prince  whom  tney  loved  so  little  as  Philip.  Yet  the  latter 
seemed  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice  of  his  permanent  interests  for  such  tem- 
porary relief  as  would  extricate  him  from  his  present  embarrassments.  His 
correspondence  with  Granvelle  on  the  subject,  unfolding  the  suicidal  schemes 
which  he  submitted  to  that  minister,  might  form  an  edifying  chapter  in  the 
financial  history  of  that  day.*  The  difficulty  of  carrying  on  the  government 
of  the  Netherlands  in  this  crippled  state  of  the  finances  doubtless  strengthened 
the  desire  of  the  monarch  to  return  to  his  native  land,  where  the  manners  and 
habits  of  the  people  were  so  much  more  congenial  with  his  own. 

Before  leaving  the  country,  it  was  necessary  to  provide  a  suitable  person  to 
whom  the  reins  of  government  might  be  intrusted.  The  duke  of  Savoy,  who, 


Metereu.  HUl.  <!<•«  P«yi-Bas,  ful.  31. 


*  AM,  In   pirllcuUr,   the   king's   letter   In 


154  SYSTEM  ESTABLISHED  BY  PHILIP. 

since  the  emperor's  abdication,  had  held  the  post  of  regent,  was  now  to  return 
to  his  own  dominions,  restored  to  him  by  the  treaty  of  Cateau-Cambre-is. 
There  were  several  persons  who  presented  themselves  for  this  responsible 
office  in  the  Netherlands.  One  of  the  most  prominent  was  Lamoral,  prince 
of  Gavre,  count  of  Egmont,  the  hero  of  St.  Quentiu  and  of  Gravelines.  The 
illustrious  house  from  which  he  was  descended,  his  chivalrous  spirit,  his  frank 
and  generous  bearing,  no  less  than  his  brilliant  military  achievements,  had  made 
him  the  idol  of  the  people.  There  were  some  who  insisted  that  these  achieve- 
ments inferred  rather  tne  successful  soldier  than  the  great  captain,7  and  that, 
whatever  merit  he  could  boast  in  the  field,  it  was  no  proof  of  his  capacity  for  so 
important  a  civil  station  as  that  of  governor  of  the  Netherlands.  Yet  it  could 
not  be  doubted  that  his  nomination  would  be  most  acceptable  to  the  people. 
This  did  not  recommend  him  to  Philip. 

Another  candidate  was  Christine,  duchess  of  Lorraine,  the  king's  cousin. 
The  large  estates  of  her  house  lay  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Netherlands. 
She  had  shown  her  talent  for  political  affairs  by  the  part  she  had  taken  in 
effecting  the  arrangements  of  Cateau-Cambresis.  The  prince  of  Orange, 
lately  become  a  widower,  was  desirous,  it  was  said,  of  marrying  her  daughter. 
Neither  did  this  prove  a  recommendation  with  Philip,  who  was  by  no  means 
anxious  to  raise  tne  house  of  Orange  higher  in  the  scale,  still  less  to  intrust 
it  with  the  destinies  of  the  Netherlands.  In  a  word,  the  monarch  had  no  mind 
to  confide  the  regency  of  the  country  to  any  one  of  its  powerful  nobles.* 

The  individual  on  whom  the  king  at  length  decided  to  bestow  this  mark  of 
his  confidence  was  his  half-sister,  Margaret,  duchess  of  Parma.  She  was  the 
natural  daughter  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  born  about  four  years  before  his 
marriage  with  Isabella  of  Portugal.  Margaret's  mother,  Margaret  Vander 
Gheenst,  belonged  to  a  noble  Flemish  house.  Her  parents  both  died  during 
her  infancy.  The  little  orphan  was  received  into  the  family  of  Count  Hoog- 
straten,  who,  with  his  wife,  reared  her  with  the  same  tenderness  as  they  did 
their  own  offspring.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  she  was  unfortunate  enough  to 
attract  the  eye  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  who,  then  in  his  twenty-third  year,  was 
captivated  by  the  charms  of  the  Flemish  maiden.  Margaret's  virtue  was  not 
proof  against  the  seductions  of  her  royal  suitor ;  and  the  victim  of  love — or  of 
vanity — became  the  mother  of  a  child,  who  received  her  own  name  of 
Margaret. 

The  emperor's  aunt,  then  regent  of  the  Netherlands,  took  charge  of  the 
infant ;  and  on  the  death  of  that  princess  she  was  taken  into  the  family  of  the 
emperor's  sister,  Mary,  queen  of  Hungary,  who  succeeded  in  the  regency. 
Margaret's  birth  did  not  long  remain  a  secret ;  and  she  received  an  education 
suited  to  the  high  station  she  was  to  occupy  in  life.  When  only  twelve  years 
of  age,  the  emperor  gave  her  in  marriage  to  Alexander  de'  Medici,  grand  duke 
of  Tuscany,  some  fifteen  years  older  than  herself.  The  ill-fated  connection 
did  not  subsist  long,  as  before  twelve  months  had  elapsed  it  was  terminated 
by  the  violent  death  of  her  husband. 

When  she  had  reached  the  age  of  womanhood,  the  hand  of  the  young  widow 
was  bestowed,  together  with  the  duchies  of  Parma  and  Placentiaas  her  dowry, 
on  Ottavio  Farnese,  grandson  of  Paul  the  Third.  The  bridegroom  was  but 
twelve  years  old.  Thus  again  it  was  Margaret's  misfortune  that  there  should 

7  "  II  Dnca  di  Sessa  et  il  Conte  d'Egmont  Relatione  di  Soriano,  MS. 

hano  acquistato  11  nome  di  Capitani  nuova-  •  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  lib.  i.  p.  42.— 

mente,  perche  uua  giornata  vinta  o  per  virtft  Francia,  Alborotos  de  Flandes,  MS.— Benti 

o  per  furtunii,  una  sola  fattione  ben  riuscita,  voglio,  Guerra  di  Fiandra,  p.  25. 
porta  all'  huomini  riputatione  et  grandezza." 


MARGARET   OF    PARMA, 

REGENT    OF    THE     NETHERLANDS. 


MARGARET  OF  PARMA  REGENT.  155 

be  such  disparity  between  her  own  age  and  that  of  her  husband  as  to  exclude 
anything  like  sympathy  or  similarity  in  their  tastes.  In  the  present  instance, 
the  boyish  years  of  Ottavio  inspired  her  with  a  sentiment  not  very  different 
from  contempt,  that  in  later  life  settled  into  an  indifference  in  which  both 
parties  appear  to  have  shared,  and  which,  as  a  contemporary  remarks  with 
naivett,  was  only  softened  into  a  kindlier  feeling  when  the  nusband  and  wife  had 
been  long  separated  from  each  other.'  In  truth,  Margaret  was  too  ambitious 
of  power  to  look  on  her  husband  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  a  rival. 

In  her  general  demeanour,  her  air,  her  gait,  she  bore  great  resemblance  to 
her  aunt,  the  regent.  Like  her,  Margaret  was  excessively  fond  of  hunting, 
and  she  followed  the  chase  with  an  intrepidity  that  might  have  daunted  the 
courage  of  the  keenest  sportsman.  She  had  but  little  of  the  natural  softness 
that  belongs  to  the  sex,  but  in  her  whole  deportment  was  singularly  mascu- 
line :  so  that,  to  render  the  words  of  the  historian  by  a  homely  phrase,  in  her 
woman's  dress  she  seemed  like  a  man  in  petticoats.10  As  if  to  add  to  the 
illusion.  Nature  had  given  her  somewhat  of  a  beard  ;  and,  to  crown  the  whole, 
the  malady  to  which  she  was  constitutionally  subject  was  a  disease  to  which 
women  are  but  rarely  liable,— the  gout."  It  was  good  evidence  of  her  descent 
from  Charles  the  Fifth. 

Though  masculine  in  her  appearance,  Margaret  was  not  destitute  of  the 
kindlier  qualities  which  are  the  glory  of  her  sex.  Her  disposition  was  good  ; 
but  she  relied  much  on  the  advice  of  others,  and  her  more  objectionable  acts 
may  probably  be  referred  rather  to  their  influence  than  to  any  inclination  of 
her  own. 

Her  understanding  was  excellent,  her  apprehension  quick.  She  showed 
much  versatility  in  accommodating  herself  to  the  exigencies  of  her  position,  as 
well  as  adroitness  in  the  management  of  affairs,  which  she  may  have  acquired 
in  the  schools  of  Italian  politics.  In  religion  she  was  as  orthodox  as  Philip  the 
Second  could  desire.  The  famous  Ignatius  Loyola  had  been  her  confessor  in 
early  days.  The  lessons  of  humility  which  he  inculcated  were  not  lost  on  her, 
as  may  be  inferred  from  the  care  she  took  to  perform  the  ceremony,  in  Holy 
Week,  of  washing  the  dirty  feet — she  preferred  them  in  this  condition — of 
twelve  poor  maidens ;  '*  outstripping,  in  this  particular,  the  humility  of  the 
pope  himself.  Such  was  the  character  of  Margaret,  duchess  of  Parma,  who 
now,  in  the  thirty -eighth  year  of  her  age,  was  called,  at  a  most  critical  period, 
to  take  the  helm  of  the  Netherlands. 

The  appointment  seems  to  have  given  equal  satisfaction  to  herself  and  to 
her  husband,  and  no  objection  was  made  to  Philip's  purpose  of  taking  back 
with  him  to  Castile  their  little  son,  Alexander  Farnese,— a  name  destined  to 
become  in  later  times  so  renowned  in  the  Netherlands.  The  avowed  purpose 
was  to  give  the  boy  a  training  suited  to  his  rank,  under  the  eye  of  Philip  ; 
combined  with  which,  according  to  the  historian,  was  the  desire  of  holding  a 
hostage  for  the  fidelity  of  Margaret  and  of  her  husband,  whose  dominions  in 
Italy  lay  contiguous  to  those  of  Philip  in  that  country.1* 

Early  in  June,  1559,  Margaret  of  Parma,  having  reached  the  Low  Countries, 

•  Strada,  De  Bello  Relgico,  lib.  i.  p.  53.  cadit,  podagri  Idemtldem  laborabat."    Ibid.. 

10  "Sed  etiam    habitus    quidain    corporls  p.  53. 

tncxwusque,  quo  mm  tarn  femina  aortlUt  viri  "  "Ob  exm  omisain  slngulis  an  nip,  turn  In 

xpiritus,  quam  vir  emcntitus  veste  femiiuim  s.tnctlorl    hehdomadu,    duodrnis    pauptTlbun 

vluVri'tur."     Ibid.,  nbi  supra.  pin-Ills  potlm  (quos  a  fuirdibUR  purgatoft  antd 

"  "  N«c  deerat  allqua  mento  Kuperiorique  vetu<r«t)abluebat."     Ibid.,  ubl  supra, 

labello  l«rbula:  ex  qua  virilis  el  non  tuaglx  "  Ibid.,  pp.   46-53,   543.— Cabrera,  Filipo 

•pfcle«,quamau<*<>riUaconcili»batur.  luiiuo.  Scgundo,    lib.    v.    cap.    2.  —  Vand  rvyuckt, 

quud  ruro  In  luulit  ri-s,  ncc  nisi  In  pnevalidag  Troubles  d>8  Pays-lias,  tutu.  ii.  p.  13. 


156  SYSTEM  ESTABLISHED  BY  PHILIP. 

made  her  entrance  in  great  state  into  Brussels,  where  Philip  awaited  her,  sur- 
rounded by  his  whole  court  of  Spanish  and  Flemish  nobles.  The  duke  of  Savoy 
was  also  present,  as  well  as  Margaret's  husband,  the  duke  of  Parma,  then  in 
attendance  on  Philip.  The  appointment  of  Margaret  was  not  distasteful  to 
the  people  of  the  Netherlands,  for  she  was  their  countrywoman,  and  her  early 
days  had  been  passed  among  them.  Her  presence  was  not  less  welcome  to 
Philip,  who  looked  forward  with  eagerness  to  the  hour  of  his  departure.  His 
first  purpose  was  to  present  the  new  regent  to  the  nation,  and  for  this  he 
summoned  a  meeting  of  the  states-general  at  Ghent  in  the  coming  August. 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  July  he  repaired  with  his  court  to  this  ancient  capital, 
which  still  smarted  under  the  effects  of  that  chastisement  of  his  father,  wnich, 
terrible  as  it  was,  had  not  the  power  to  break  the  spirits  of  the  men  of  Ghent. 
The  presence  of  the  court  was  celebrated  with  public  rejoicings,  which  con- 
tinued for  three  days,  during  which  Philip  held  a  chapter  of  the  Golden 
Fleece  for  the  election  of  fourteen  knights.  The  ceremony  was  conducted 
with  the  magnificence  with  which  the  meetings  of  this  illustrious  order  were 
usually  celebrated.  It  was  memorable  as  the  last  chapter  of  it  ever  held.14 
Founded  by  the  dukes  of  Burgundy,  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece  drew  its 
members  immediately  from  the  nobility  of  the  Netherlands.  When  the 
Spanish  sovereign,  who  remained  at  its  head,  no  more  resided  in  the  country, 
the  chapters  were  discontinued,  and  the  knights  derived  their  appointment 
from  the  simple  nomination  of  the  monarch. 

On  the  eighth  of  August  the  states-general  assembled  at  Ghent.  The 
sturdy  burghers  who  took  their  seats  in  this  body  came  thither  in  no  very 
friendly  temper  to  the  government.  Various  subjects  of  complaint  had  long 
been  rankling  in  their  bosoms,  and  now  found  vent  in  the  form  of  animated 
and  angry  debate.  The  people  had  been  greatly  alarmed  by  the  avowed  policy 
of  their  rulers  to  persevere  in  the  system  of  religious  persecution,  as  shown 
especially  by  the  revival  of  the  ancient  edicts  against  heresy  and  in  support  of 
the  Inquisition.  Rumours  had  gone  abroad,  probably  with  exaggeration,  of 
the  proposed  episcopal  reforms.  However  necessary,  they  were  now  regarded 
only  as  part  of  the  great  scheme  of  persecution.  Different  nations,  it  was 
urged,  required  to  be  guided  by  different  laws.  What  suited  the  Spaniards 
would  not  for  that  reason  suit  the  people  of  the  Netherlands.  The  Inquisition 
was  HI  adapted  to  men  accustomed  from  their  cradles  to  freedom  of  thought 
and  action.  Persecution  was  not  to  be  justified  in  matters  of  conscience,  and 
men  were  not  to  be  reclaimed  from  spiritual  error  by  violence,  but  by  gentle- 
ness and  persuasion. 

But  what  most  called  forth  the  invective  of  the  Flemish  orators  was  the 
presence  of  a  large  body  of  foreign  troops  in  the  country.  When  Philip  dis- 
banded his  forces  after  the  French  war  had  terminated,  there  still  remained  a 
corps  of  the  old  Spanish  infantry,  amounting  to  some  three  or  four  thousand, 
which  he  thought  proper  to  retain  in  the  western  provinces.  His  avowed 
object  was  to  protect  the  country  from  any  violence  on  the  part  of  the  French. 
Another  reason  assigned  by  him  was  the  difficulty  of  raising  funds  to  pay  their 
arrears.  The  true  motive,  in  the  opinion  of  the  states,  was  to  enforce  the 
execution  of  the  new  measures  and  overcome  any  resistance  that  might  be 
made  in  the  country.  These  troops,  like  most  of  the  soldiers  of  that  day,  who 
served  for  plunder  quite  as  much  as  for  pay,  had  as  little  respect  for  the  rights 
or  the  property  of  their  allies  as  for  those  of  their  enemies.  They  quartered 
themselves  on  the  peaceful  inhabitants  of  the  country,  and  obtained  full  com- 
1  ensation  for  loss  of  pay  by  a  system  of  rapine  and  extortion  that  beggared 

14  Vandcrvynckt,  Troubles  dcs  Pays- Bus,  torn.  ii.  p.  21. 


SPIRITED  CONDUCT  OF  THE  STATES-GENERAL.         157 

the  people  and  drove  them  to  desperation.  Conflicts  with  the  soldiery  occasion- 
ally occurred,  and  in  some  parts  the  peasantry  even  refused  to  repair  the  dikes, 
in  order  to  lay  the  country  under  water  rather  than  submit  to  such  outrages  ! 
'•  How  is  it,  exclaimed  the  bold  syndic  of  Ghent,  "  that  we  find  foreign 
soldiers  thus  quartered  on  us,  in  open  violation  of  our  liberties  ?  Are  not  our 
own  troops  able  to  protect  us  from  the  dangers  of  invasion  ?  Must  we  be 
ground  to  the  dust  by  the  exactions  of  these  mercenaries  in  peace,  after  being 
burdened  with  the  maintenance  of  them  in  war  ?"  These  remonstrances  were 
followed  by  a  petition  to  the  throne,  signed  by  members  of  the  other  orders  as 
well  as  the  commons,  requesting  that  the  king  would  be  graciously  pleased  to 
respect  the  privileges  of  the  nation  and  send  back  the  foreign  troops  to  their 
own  homes. 

Philip,  who  sat  in  the  assembly  with  his  sister,  the  future  regent,  by  his  side, 
was  not  prepared  for  this  independent  spirit  in  the  burghers  of  the  Nether- 
lands. The  royal  ear  had  been  little  accustomed  to  this  strain  of  invective 
from  the  subject.  For  it  was  rare  that  the  tone  of  remonstrance  was  heard 
in  the  halls  of  Castilian  legislation,  since  the  power  of  the  commons  had 
been  broken  on  the  field  of  Villalar.  Unable  or  unwilling  to  conceal  his 
displeasure,  the  king  descended  from  his  throne  and  abruptly  quitted  the 
assembly.14 

Yet  he  did  not,  like  Charles  the  First  of  England,  rashly  vent  his  indigna- 
tion by  imprisoning  or  persecuting  the  members  who  had  roused  it.  Even  the 
stout  syndic  of  Ghent  was  allowed  to  go  unharmed.  Philip  looked  above  him 
to  a  mark  more  worthy  of  his  anger, — to  those  of  the  higher  orders  who  had 
encouraged  the  spirit  of  resistance  in  the  commons.  The  most  active  of  these 
malecontents  was  William  of  Orange.  That  noble,  as  it  may  be  remembered, 
was  one  of  the  hostages  who  remained  at  the  court  of  Henry  the  Second  for 
the  fulfilment  of  the  treaty  of  Cateau-Cambresis.  While  there,  a  strange  dis- 
c'osure  was  made  to  the  prince  by  the  French  monarch,  who  told  him  that, 
through  the  duke  of  Alva,  a  secret  treaty  had  been  entered  into  with  his 
master,  the  king  of  Spain,  for  the  extirpation  of  heresy  throughout  their 
dominions.  This  inconsiderate  avowal  of  the  French  king  was  made  to 
William  on  the  supposition  that  he  was  stanch  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith 
and  entirely  in  his  master's  confidence.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  prince's 
claims  to  orthodoxy  at  this  period,  it  is  certain  he  was  not  in  Philip's  con- 
fidence. It  is  equally  certain  that  he  possessed  one  Christian  virtue  which 
belonged  neither  to  Philip  nor  to  Henry, — the  virtue  of  toleration.  Greatly 
shocked  by  the  intelligence  he  had  received,  William  at  once  communicated  it 
to  several  of  his  friends  in  the  Netherlands.  One  of  the  letters,  unfortunately, 
fell  into  Philip's  hands.  The  prince  soon  after  obtained  permission  to  return 
to  his  own  country,  tent,  as  he  tells  us  in  his  Apology,  on  ridding  it  of  the 
Spanish  vermin.1*  Philip,  Avho  understood  the  temper  of  his  mind,  hail  his  eye 
on  his  movements,  and  knew  well  to  what  source,  in  part  at  least,  he  was  to 
attribute  the  present  opposition.  It  was  not  long  after  that  a  Castilian 
courtier  intimated  to  the  prince  of  Orange  and  to  Egmont  that  it  would  be 
well  for  them  to  take  heed  to  themselves, — that  the  names  of  those  who  had 
signed  the  petition  for  the  removal  of  the  troops  had  been  noted  down,  and 

"  Bentlvoglio,  Guerra  dl  FUndra,  p.  27,  et  '*  "  Je  confesse  quo  Je  fus  tellfment  esmeu 

seq. — Cabrera,  Kilipe  Segundo,  lib.  v.  cap.  2.  de  pitii-  et  de  compassion  quo  den  lorn  J'e.mre- 

— Str.nlo.   De   IH1"   Belglco,  lih.  i.  p.   G7. —  pris  a  bon  eacient  d'ayder  a  faire  chasser  cette 

V«ii.|  Tvyiu-kt,  Trouble*  <I<H  Pays-Baa,  torn.  vennioe    d'Espaigiiols    bore    de    ce    Pay*." 

II    p.  22.— Meteren,  Hist,  des  1'ays-Bas,  fol.  Apology  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  ap.  Dumont. 

24.—  Schiller,  Abfall  der  Nlederlaude,  p.  84.  Corps  diplomatique,  torn.  v.  p.  392. 


158  SYSTEM  ESTABLISHED  BY  PHILIP. 

that  Philip  and  his  council  were  resolved,  when  a  fitting  occasion  offered,  to 
call  them  to  a  heavy  reckoning  for  their  temerity.17 

Yet  the  king  so  far  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  the  people  as  to  promise  the 
speedy  departure  of  the  troops.  But  no  power  on  earth  could  have  been  strong 
enough  to  shake  his  purpose  where  the  interests  of  religion  were  involved. 
Nor  would  he  abate  one  jot  of  the  stern  provisions  of  the  edicts.  When  one 
of  his  ministers,  more  hardy  than  the  rest,  ventured  to  suggest  to  him  that 
perseverance  in  this  policy  might  cost  him  the  sovereignty  of  the  provinces, 
"  Better  not  reign  at  all,"  he  answered,  "  than  reign  over  heretics  ! "  l8 — an 
answer  extolled  by  some  as  the  height  of  the  sublime,  by  others  derided  as  the 
extravagance  of  a  fanatic.  In  whatever  light  we  view  it,  it  must  be  admitted 
to  furnish  the  key  to  the  permanent  policy  of  Philip  in  his  government  of  the 
Netherlands. 

Before  dissolving  the  states-general,  Philip,  unacquainted  with  the  language 
of  the  country,  addressed  the  deputies  through  the  mouth  of  the  bishop  of 
Arras.  He  expatiated  on  the  warmth  of  his  attachment  to  his  good  people  of 
the  Netherlands,  and  paid  them  a  merited  tribute  for  their  loyalty  both  to 
his  father  and  to  himself.  He  enjoined  on  them  to  show  similar  respect  to  the 
regent,  their  own  countrywoman,  into  whose  hands  he  had  committed  the 
government.  They  would  reverence  the  laws  and  maintain  public  tranquillity. 
Nothing  would  conduce  to  this  so  much  as  the  faithful  execution  of  the  edicts. 
It  was  their  sacred  duty  to  aid  in  the  extermination  of  heretics, — the  deadliest 
foes  both  of  God  and  their  sovereign.  Philip  concluded  by  assuring  the 
states  that  he  should  soon  return  in  person  to  the  Netherlands,  or  send  his 
son  Don  Carlos  as  his  representative. 

The  answer  of  the  legislature  was  temperate  and  respectful.  They  made  no 
allusion  to  Philip's  proposed  ecclesiastical  reforms,  as  he  had  not  authorized 
this  by  any  allusion  to  them  himself.  They  still  pressed,  however,  the 
removal  of  the  foreign  troops,  and  the  further  removal  of  all  foreigners  from 
office,  as  contrary  to  the  constitution  of  the  land.  This  last  shaft  was  aimed 
at  Granvelle,  who  held  a  high  post  in  the  government  and  was  understood  to 
be  absolute  in  the  confidence  of  the  king.  Philip  renewed  his  assurances  of 
the  dismissal  of  the  forces,  and  that  within  the  space,  as  he  promised,  of  four 
months.  The  other  request  of  the  deputies  he  did  not  condescend  to  notice. 
His  feeling^s  on  the  subject  were  intimated  in  an  exclamation  he  made  to  one 
of  his  ministers :  "  I  too  am  a  foreigner :  will  they  refuse  to  obey  me  as  their 
sovereign  ? " 19 

The  regent  was  to  be  assisted  in  the  government  by  three  councils  which  of 
old  time  had  existed  in  the  land :  the  council  of  finance,  for  the  administra- 
tion, as  the  name  implies,  of  the  revenues ;  the  privy  council,  for  affairs  of 
justice  and  the  internal  concerns  of  the  country ;  and  the  council  of  state,  for 
matters  relating  to  peace  and  war,  and  the  foreign  policy  of  the  nation.  Into 
this  last,  the  supreme  council,  entered  several  of  the  Flemish  nobles,  and 
among  them  the  prince  of  Orange  and  Count  Egmont.  There  were,  beside-, 
Count  Barlaimont,  president  of  the  council  of  finance,  Viglius,  president  of  the 
privy  council,  and  lastly  Granvelle,  bishop  of  Arras. 

"  "Que  le  Rol  et   son   Conseil    avoyent  "  "Che  egli  voleva  piuttosto  restar  senza 

arrest^  que  tous  ceux  qui  avoicnt  consent!  et  regnl,  che  possedergli  con  1'eresia."    Benti- 

signe  In  Requeste,  par  laquelle  on  demandoit  vogtio,  Guerra  di  Fiandra,  p.  31. 

que  la  Gendarmerie  Espaignolle  s'en  allast,  "  Ranke,  Spanish  Kmpire,  p.  81. — Schiller, 

qu'on  auroit  souvneance  de  les  chastier  avec  Abfall  der  Niederlande,  p.  85. —  Bentivoglio, 

le  temps,  et  quand  la  commodite  s'en  presen-  Ouerra  di  Fiandra,  p.  27. — Strada,  De  Bello 

terolt,  et  qu'il  les  en  advertissoit  comme  amy."  Belgico,  p.  57. — Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Bas, 

Mctercn,  Hist,  des  Pays-Baa,  fol.  25.  fol.  25. 


RISE  AND  CHARACTER  OF  GRANVELLE.  159 

The  regent  was  to  act  with  the  co-operation  of  these  several  bodies  in  their 
respective  departments.  In  the  conduct  of  the  government  she  was  to  be 
guided  by  the  council  of  state.  But,  by  private  instructions  of  Philip,  ques- 
tions of  a  more  delicate  nature,  involving  the  tranquillity  of  the  country,  might 
be  first  submitted  to  a  select  portion  of  this  council  ;  and  in  such  cases,  or 
when  a  spirit  of  faction  had  crept  into  the  council,  the  regent,  if  she  deemed 
it  for  the  interest  of  the  state,  might  adopt  the  opinion  of  the  minority.  The 
select  body  with  whom  Margaret  was  to  advise  in  the  more  important  matters 
was  termed  the  Consulta  ;  and  the  members  who  composed  it  were  Barlaimont, 
Viglius,  and  the  bishop  of  Arras.10 

The  first  of  these  men,  Count  Barlaimont,  belonged  to  an  ancient  Flemish 
family.  With  respectable  talents  and  constancy  of  purpose,  he  was  entirely 
devoted  to  the  interests  of  the  crown.  The  second,  Viglius,  was  a  jurist  of 
extensive  erudition,  at  this  time  well  advanced  in  years,  and  with  infirmities 
that  might  have  pressed  heavily  on  a  man  less  patient  of  toil.  He  was  per- 
sonally attached  to  Granvelle  ;  and  as  his  views  of  government  coincided  very 
nearly  with  that  minister's,  Viglius  was  much  under  his  influence.  The  last 
of  the  three,  Granvelle,  from  his  large  acquaintance  with  affairs,  and  his 
adroitness  in  managing  them,  was  far  superior  to  his  colleagues ; sl  and  he 
soon  acquired  such  an  ascendency  over  tnem  that  the  government  may  be 
said  to  have  rested  on  his  shoulders.  As  there  is  no  man  who  for  some  years 
is  to  take  so  prominent  a  part  in  the  story  of  the  Netherlands,  it  will  be 
proper  to  introduce  the  reader  to  some  acquaintance  with  his  earlier  history. 

Anthony  Perrenot — whose  name  of  Granvelle  was  derived  from  an  estate 
purchased  by  his  father— was  born  in  the  year  1517,  at  Besan9on,  a  town  in 
Franche-Cointe.  His  father,  Nicholas  Perrenot,  founded  the  fortunes  of  the 
family,  and  from  the  humble  condition  of  a  poor  country  attorney  rose  to  the 
rank  of  chancellor  of  the  empire.  This  extraordinary  advancement  was  not 
owing  to  caprice,  but  to  his  unwearied  industry,  extensive  learning,  and  a 
clear  and  comprehensive  intellect,  combined  with  steady  devotion  to  the 
interests  of  his  master,  Charles  the  Fifth.  His  talent  for  affairs  led  him  to 
be  employed  not  merely  in  official  business,  but  in  diplomatic  missions  of 

Sreat  importance.     In  snort,  he  possessed  the  confidence  of  the  emperor  to  a 
egree  enjoyed  by  no  other  subject;  and  when  the  chancellor  died,  in  1550, 
Charles  pronounced  his  eulogy  to  Philip  in  a  single  sentence,  saying  that  in 
Granvelle  they  had  lost  the  man  on  whose  wisdom  they  could  securely  repose.11 
Anthony  Perrenot,  distinguished  from  his  father  in  later  times  as  Cardinal 
Granvelle,  was  the  eldest  of  eleven  children.    In  his  childhood  he  discovered 
such  promise  that  the  chancellor  bestowed  much  pains  personally  on  his 
instruction.     At  fourteen  he  was  sent  to  Padua,  and  after  some  years  was 
removed  to  Louvain,  then  the  university  of  greatest  repute  in  the  Netherlands. 
It  was  not  till  later  that  the  seminary  of  Douay  was  founded,  under  the 

*°  The  existence  of  such  a  confidential  body  torn.  li.  Appendix,  Nos.  3-4. 

proved  a  fruitful   source  of   disaster.     The  "'  "Ma  non  val  tanto  alcuno  dell' altri  ne 

names  of  the  parties  who  composed  it  are  not  tutt'  insieme  quanto  Mons'.  d"  Aras  solo,  II 

given  in  the  instructions  to  the  regent,  which  quale,  per  11  gran  giudlclo  die  ha  et  per  la 

l>-avf  all   to  her  discretion.      According  to  lunga  prattlca  del  govrrno  del  mondo,  et  nrl 

Strada,  however,  the  royal  will  in  the  matter  tentar  1'  imprese  grandi  pin  accorto  et  piA 

was  plainly  intimated  !•>•  I'lillfp.     (Or  Rello  animoso  di  tutti,  piik  destro  et  piu  sicum  nrl 

Helgico,  torn.  I.  p.  67.)    Copies  of  the  regent's  manegglarle,  et  ncl  flnirle  piu  constante  et 

rnnitulpwliin,  as  well  as  of  two  documents,  the  piu  risoluto."     Relatione  dl  Soriano,  MS. 

one  endorsed    as  "private,"   the    other    an  "'  "  Mlo  flgliuolo,  etioe  vol  habblamo peroo 

"secret"  Instructions,  and  all  three  hearing  un  buon  letto  di  rip«>»o," — literally,  a  good 

tin-  ilnte  of  August  xth,  155».  are  to  he  found  bed  to  repose  on.     Leti,  Vita  di  Fllippo  II., 

entire  In  the  Currespondance  de  Philippe  11  ,  torn.  I.  p.  195. 


160  SYSTEM  ESTABLISHED  BY  PHILIP. 

auspices  of  Philip  the  Second.73  At  the  university  the  young  Perrenot  soon 
distinguished  himself  by  the  vivacity  of  his  mind,  the  acuteness  of  his  per- 
ceptions, an  industry  fully  equal  to  his  father's,  and  remarkable  powers  of 
acquisition.  Besides  a  large  range  of  academic  study,  he  made  himself  master 
of  seven  languages,  so  as  to  read  and  converse  in  them  with  fluency.  He 
seemed  to  have  little  relish  for  the  amusements  of  the  youth  of  his  own  age. 
His  greatest  amusement  was  a  book.  Under  this  incessant  application  his 
health  gave  way,  and  for  a  time  his  studies  were  suspended. 

Whether  from  his  father's  preference  or  his  own,  young  Granvelle  embraced 
the  ecclesiastical  profession.  At  the  age  of  twenty-one  he  was  admitted  to 
orders.  The  son  of  the  chancellor  was  not  slow  in  his  advancement,  and  he 
was  soon  possessed  of  several  good  benefices.  But  the  ambitious  and  worldly 
temper  of  Granvelle  was  not  to  be  satisfied  with  the  humble  duties  of  the 
ecclesiastic.  It  was  not  long  before  he  was  called  to  court  by  his  father,  and 
there  a  brilliant  career  was  opened  to  his  aspiring  genius. 

The  young  man  soon  showed  such  talent  for  business,  and  such-  shrewd 
insight  into  character,  as,  combined  with  the  stores  of  learning  he  had  at  his 
command,  made  his  services  of  great  value  to  his  father.  He  accompanied 
the  chancellor  on  some  of  his  public  missions,  among  others  to  the  Council  of 
Trent,  where  the  younger  Granvelle,  who  had  already  been  promoted  to  the 
see  of  Arras,  first  had  the  opportunity  of  displaying  that  subtle,  insinuating 
eloquence  which  captivated  as  much  as  it  convinced. 

The  emperor  saw  with  satisfaction  the  promise  afforded  by  the  young  states- 
man, and  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  he  would  prove  the  same  pillar  of 
support  to  his  administration  that  his  father  had  been  before  him.  Nor  was 
that  time  far  distant.  As  the  chancellor's  health  declined,  the  son  became 
more  intimately  associated  with  his  father  in  the  counsels  of  the  emperor. 
He  justified  this  confidence  by  the  unwearied  toil  with  which  he  devoted  him- 
self to  the  business  of  the  cabinet, — a  toil  to  which  even  night  seemed  to 
afford  no  respite.  He  sometimes  employed  five  secretaries  at  once,  dictating 
to  them  in  as  many  different  languages.24  The  same  thing,  or  something  as 
miraculous,  has  been  told  of  other  remarkable  men,  both  before  and  since.  As 
a  mere  tour  deforce,  Granvelle  may  possibly  have  amused  himself  with  it. 
But  it  was  not  in  this  way  that  the  correspondence  was  written  which  fur- 
nishes the  best  key  to  the  events  of  the  time.  If  it  liad  been  so  written,  it 
would  never  have  been  worth  the  publication. 

Every  evening  Granvelle  presented  himself  before  the  emperor  and  read  to 
him  the  programme  he  had  prepared  of  the  business  of  the  following  day, 
with  his  own  suggestions.2*  The  foreign  ambassadors  who  resided  at  the 
court  were  surprised  to  find  the  new  minister  so  entirely  in  the  secrets  of  his 
master,  and  that  he  was  as  well  instructed  in  all  their  doings  as  the  emperor 
himself.28  In  short,  the  confidence  of  Charles,  given  slowly  and  with  much 


gica,  torn.  ii.  MS. 

'On  remarque  de  lui  ce  qu'on   avoit  *•  "  Havendo  prima  lui  senza  risolvere  cosa 


161 

hesitation,  was  at  length  bestowed  as  freely  on  the  son  as  it  had  been  on  the 
father.  The  two  Granvelles  may  be  truly  said  to  have  been  the  two  persons 
who  most  possessed  the  confidence  of  the  emperor,  from  the  tune  that  he  took 
the  reins  of  government  into  his  own  hands. 

When  raised  to  the  see  of  Arras.  Granvelle  was  but  twenty-five  years  old. 
It  is  rare  that  the  mitre  lias  descended  on  a  man  of  a  more  ambitious  spirit. 
Yet  Granvelle  was  not  averse  to  the  good  things  of  the  world,  nor  altogether 
insensible  to  its  pomps  and  vanities.  He  affected  great  state  in  his  manner 
of  living,  and  thus  necessity,  no  less  than  taste,  led  him  to  covet  the  posses- 
sion of  wealth  as  well  as  of  power.  He  obtained  both ;  and  his  fortunes  were 
rapidly  advancing  when,  by  the  abdication  of  his  royal  master,  the  sceptre 
passed  into  the  hands  of  Philip  the  Second. 

Charles  recommended  Granvelle  to  his  son  as  every  way  deserving  of  his 
confidence.  Granvelle  knew  that  the  best  recommendation — the  only  effectual 
one — must  come  from  himself.  He  studied  carefully  the  character  of  his  new 
sovereign,  and  showed  a  wonderful  flexibility  in  conforming  to  his  humours. 
The  ambitious  minister  proved  himself  no  stranger  to  those  arts  by  which 
great  minds,  as  well  as  little  ones,  sometimes  condescend  to  push  their  for- 
tunes in  a  court. 

Yet,  in  truth,  Granvelle  did  not  always  do  violence  to  his  own  inclinations 
in  conforming  to  those  of  Philip.  Like  the  king,  he  did  not  come  rapidly  to 
results,  but  pondered  long,  and  viewed  a  question  in  all  its  bearings,  before 
arriving  at  a  decision.  He  had,  as  we  have  seen,  the  same  patient  spirit  of 
application  as  Philip,  so  that  both  may  be  said  to  have  found  their  best  recrea- 
tion in  labour.  Neither  was  he  less  zealous  than  the  king  for  the  mainte- 
nance of  the  true  faith,  though  his  accommodating  nature,  if  left  to  itself, 
might  have  sanctioned  a  different  policy  from  that  dictated  by  the  stern, 
uncompromising  spirit  of  his  master. 

Granvelle's  influence  was  further  aided  by  the  charms  of  his  personal  inter- 
course. His  polished  and  insinuating  manners  seem  to  have  melted  even  the 
icy  reserve  of  Philip.  He  maintained  his  influence  by  his  singular  tact  in 
suggesting  hints  for  carrying  out  his  master's  policy,  in  such  a  way  that  the 
suggestion  might  seem  to  have  come  from  the  king  himself.  Thus  careful  not 
to  alarm  the  jealousy  of  his  sovereign,  he  was  content  to  forego  the  semblance 
of  power  for  the  real  possession  of  it.27 

It  was  soon  seen  that  he  was  as  well  settled  in  the  confidence  of  Philip  as 
he  had  previously  been  in  that  of  Charles.*  Notwithstanding  the  apparent 

essendo  rimesse  a  Monsignor  Gran  vela  che  Brussels,    July    17th,    15S9,  In    which    the 

sua  Kccrllcnza  ha  intern)  ogiii  partlcolare  et  minister  suggests  the  arguments  that  might 

quasi  ognl  parola  pa.-pata  fra  1'  Imperatore  et  be  used  to  the  authorities  of   Brabant  for 

loro."    Relatlone  di  Soriano,  MS.  enforcing  the  edicts.    The  letter  shows,  too, 

"  A  striking  example  of  the  manner  in  that  Granvell-s  If  p-issessed  naturally  of  a 

which  Oranvelle  conveyed  his  own  views  to  more  tolerant  spirit  than  Philip,  could  accom- 

the  king  is  shown  by  a  letter  to  Philip  dated  modute  himself  so  far  to  the  opposite  temper 


•  [This  Is  greatly  overstated.    At  the  ac-  creased  the   disfavour   Into  which    he   had 

cession  of  Philip,  and  during  his  stay  in  the  fallen.     He  attended  the   meetings   of  the 

Netherlands  tlranvelle  found  bin    position  council  only  when  summoned,  which  was  very 

verydifTrrent  from  that  which  be  had  occupied  rarely.    (See  the  Relazioni  of  Hudo.ro  and 

under  Charles.    The  jealousy  of  Ruy  fromm,  Soriano.)    His  rivals  were  very  willing  that 

the  king's  favourite,  and  of  the  other  Spanish  he  should  be  left  at  Brussels  as  chief  minister 

ministers,  was  too  watchful  to  allow  tho  in-  of  the  regent.    But  bis  own  ambition  was  to 

siniiating  and  serviceable  Franche-comtoit  to  fill  the  same  post  In  the  cabinet  at  Madrid  ; 

oMain  any  personal  influence  with   Philip.  and  he  attained  this  object  many  years  Inter, 

His  opposition  to  the  war  with  the  pope,  attri-  when   the  situation  of  affairs  rendered    Ma 

buted  to  his  desire  for  the  cardinalate,  in-  knowledge  and  talents  indispensable. — ED.] 

M 


162  SYSTEM  ESTABLISHED  BY  PHILIP. 

distribution  of  power  between  the  regent  and  the  several  councils,  the  arrange- 
ments made  by  the  king  were  such  as  to  throw  the  real  authority  into  the 
hands  of  Granvelle.  Thus  the  rare  example  was  afforded  of  the  same  man 
continuing  the  favourite  of  two  successive  sovereigns.  Granvelle  did  not 
escape  the  usual  fate  of  favourites ;  and  whether  from  the  necessity  of  the 
case,  or  that,  as  some  pretend,  he  did  not  on  his  elevation  bear  his  faculties 
too  meekly,  no  man  was  so  generally  and  so  heartily  detested  throughout  the 
country.*8 

Before  leaving  the  Netherlands,  Philip  named  the  governors  of  the  several 
provinces, — the  nominations,  for  the  most  part,  only  confirming  those  already 
in  office.  Egmont  had  the  governments  of  Flanders  and  Artois  ;  the  prince 
of  Orange,  those  of  Holland,  Zealand,  Utrecht,  and  West  Friesland.  The 
commission  to  William,  running  in  the  usual  form,  noticed  "  the  good,  loyal, 
and  notable  services  he  had  rendered  both  to  the  emperor  and  his  present 
sovereign." 29  The  command  of  two  battalions  of  the  Spanish  army  was  also 
given  to  the  two  nobles, — a  poor  contrivance  for  reconciling  the  nation  to 
the  continuance  of  these  detested  troops  in  the  country. 

Philip  had  anxiously  waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  papal  bull  which  was  to 
authorize  the  erection  of  the  bishoprics.  Granvelle  looked  still  more  anxiously 
for  it.  He  had  read  the  signs  of  the  coniing  storm,  and  would  gladly  have 
encountered  it  when  the  royal  presence  might  have  afforded  some  shelter  from 
its  fury.  But  the  court  of  Rome  moved  at  its  usual  dilatory  pace,  and  the 
apostolic  nuncio  did  not  arrive  with  the  missive  till  the  eve  of  Philip's  depar- 
ture,—too  late  for  him  to  witness  its  publication.30 

Having  completed  all  his  arrangements,  about  the  middle  of  August  the 
king  proceeded  to  Zealand,  where,  in  the  port  of  Flushing,  lay  a  gallant  fleet, 
waiting  to  take  him  and  the  royal  suite  to  Spain.  It  consisted  of  fifty  Spanish 
and  forty  other  vessels, — all  well  manned,  and  victualled  for  a  much  longer 
voyage.31  Philip  was  escorted  to  the  place  of  embarkation  by  a  large  body  of 
Flemish  nobles,  together  with  the  foreign  ambassadors  and  the  duke  and 
duchess  of  Savoy.  A  curious  scene  is  reported  to  have  taken  place  as  be  was 
about  to  go  on  board.  Turning  abruptly  round  to  the  prince  of  Orange,  who 
had  attended  him  on  the  journey,  he  bluntly  accused  him  of  being  the  true 
source  of  the  opposition  which  his  measures  had  encountered  in  the  states- 
general.  William,  astonished  at  the  suddenness  of  the  attack,  replied  that 
the  opposition  was  to  be  regarded,  not  as  the  act  of  an  individual,  but  of  the 
states.  "  No,"  rejoined  the  incensed  monarch,  shaking  him  at  the  same  time 

of  his  master  as  to  furnish  him  with  gome  graphT  of  the  Cardinal.    The  work  of  the 

very   plausible     grounds     for     persecution.  Benedictine,  however,  has  the  merit  of  authen- 

Papiers  d'Etat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  v.  p.  614.  ticity.     I  shall  take  occasion  hereafter  to  give 

"  Levesque,  Memoires  de  Granvelle,  torn.  a  mure  particular  account  of  the  Granvelle 

i.   p.   207,  et  seq. — Courchetet,  Histoire  du  collection. 

Cardinal  de  Granvelle  (Bruxelles,  1784),  torn.  **  "  Rn  consideration  desbpns,  leaux,  nota- 

i.,  passim.— Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  p.  85. —  bles  et  agreables  services  faite  par  lui,  pen- 

Burgon,  Life  of  Gresham,  vol.  i.  p.  267. — The  dant  plusieurs  ann6es,  a  feu  1'Kmpereur,  et 

author  of  th»  Memoires  de  Granvelle  was  a  depuls  au  Roi."    Correspondance  de  Philippe 

member  of  a  Bemdictine  convent  in  Besancon,  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  184. 

which,  by  a  singular  chance,  became  possessed  30  Vandervynckt,  Troubles  des  Pays-Has, 
of  the  manuscripts  of  Cardinal  tiranvelle  torn.  ii.  p.  69,  et  seq. — Strada,  De  Bello  Bel- 
more  than  a  century  after  his  death.  The  gico,  p.  40. — Hopper,  Recueil  et  Memorial, 
good  Father  Levesque  made  but  a  very  in-  cap.  2. — Francia,  Alborotos  de  Flandes,  MS. 
diff-Tent  use  of  the  rich  store  of  materials  3I  The  royal  larder  seems  to  have  been  well 
placed  at  his  disposal,  by  digesting  them  into  supplied  in  the  article  of  poultry,  to  judge 
two  duodecimo  volumes,  in  which  the  li'tle  from  one  item,  mentioned  by  Meteren.  of 
that  is  of  value  seems  to  have  been  pilfered  fifteen  thousand  capons.  Hist,  des  Pays-Ba*, 
from  the  unpublished  MS.  of  a  previous  bio-  torn.  i.  fol.  25. 


VANDERVYNCKT. 


1G3 


violently  by  the  wrist,  "  not  the  states,  but  you,  you,  you  ! "  M  an  exclamation 
deriving  additional  bitterness  from  the  fact  that  the  word  you,  thus  employed, 
in  the  Castilian  was  itself  indicative  of  contempt.  William  did  not  think  it 
prudent  to  reply,  nor  did  he  care  to  trust  himself  with  the  other  Flemish  lords 
on  board  the  royal  squadron.*3 

The  royal  company  being  at  length  all  on  board,  on  the  twentieth  of  August, 
1559,  the  fleet  weighed  anchor;  and  Philip,  taking  leave  of  the  duke  and 
duchess  of  Savoy,  and  the  rest  of  the  noble  train  who  attended  his  embarka- 
tion, was  soon  wafted  from  the  shores,— to  which  he  was  never  to  return. 

M  "  Le  Roi  le  prenant  par  le  poignet,  et  le 
lui  sccoilant,  repllqua  en  Espagnol,  Jfo  lot 
Estados,  mat  vos,  vot.  vot,  repetaiit  ce  vos  par 
trois  fois,  terme  de  mepris  chez  les  Espagnols, 
qui  veut  dire  toy,  toy  en  Franguis."  Auberi, 
Memoires  pour  servir  a  1'Histoire  d'Hullande 
et  des  autres  Provinces-Unies  (Paris,  1711), 
p.  7. 

M  One  might  wish  the  authority  for  this 
anecdote  better  than  it  is,  considering  that  it 


is  contradicted  by  the  whole  tenor  of  Philip's 
life,  in  which  self-command  was  a  predomi- 
nant trait.  The  story  was  originally  derived 
from  Auberi  (loc.  cit.).  The  chronicler  had 
it,  as  he  tells  us.  from  his  father,  to  whom  it 
was  told  by  an  intimate  friend  of  the  prince 
of  Orange,  who  was  present  at  the  scene. 
Auberi,  though  a  dull  writer,  was,  according 
to  Voltaire's  admis>ion,  well  informed. — 
"ecrivain  mediocre,  niais  fort  instruit."  * 


*  [Had  Auberi  been  a  "well  informed" 
writer,  he  would  not  have  repre.sented  the  use 
of  the  pronoun  of  the  second  person  plural, 
in  a  case  like  the  present,  as  a  mark  of  con- 
tempt, since  this  was  the  mode  in  which  the 
Spanish  sovereigns  invariably  addressed  a 
subject,  of  whatever  rank.  It  is  thus  that 
Philip  addresses  Cardinal  tiranvelle  in  bis 
letters,  and  that  he  himself  was  addressed  by 
Charles  V.  A  stronger  obj<-ction  to  the  story 
itself  is  its  inconsistency  with  the  tone  of  the 


letters  exchanged  between  Philip  and  the 
prince  of  Orange  soon  after  the  fennel's 
arrival  in  Spain.  From  these,  aft  well  as 
from  the  other  correspondence  of  the  time,  it 
is  clear  not  only  that  no  open  breach  had  yet 
occurred,  but  that  the  king  was  still  far  from 
having  penetrated  the  real  feelings  and 
designs  of  the  most  profound  dissembler — as 
well  as  greatest  and  most  patriotic  statesman 
—of  the  age.— ED.] 


Lnc-Jean-Joseph  Vandervynckt,  to  whom 
I  have  repeatedly  had  occasion  to  rcfei  in  the 
course  of  the  preceding  chapter,  was  a  Fle- 
ming,— burn  at  Ghent  in  1691.  He  was  edu- 
cated to  the  law,  became  eminent  in  his  pro- 
fession, and  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight  was  made 
member  of  the  council  of  Flanders.  He  em- 
ployed hi*  leisure  in  studying  the  historical  an- 
tiquities of  bis  own  country.  A ttbe  suggestion 
of  Coblentz,  prime  minister  of  Maria  Theresa, 
be  compiled  bis  work  on  the  Troubles  of  the 
Netherlands.  It  was  designed  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  youngr-r  branches  of  the  imperial 
family,  and  six  copies  only  of  it  were  at  first 
printed,  in  1765.  Since  the  author's  death, 
which  took  place  in  1779,  when  he  bad 
reached  the  great  age  of  eighty-eight,  the 
work  has  been  repeatedly  published. 


As  Vandervynckt  had  the  national  archives 
thrown  open  to  his  inspection,  he  had  access 
to  the  most  authentic  sources  of  information. 
He  was  a  man  of  science  and  discernment, 
fair-minded,  and  temperate  in  his  opinions, 
which  gives  value  to  a  book  that  contains, 
moreover,  much  interesting  anecdote,  not 
elsewhere  to  be  found.  The  work,  though 
making  only  four  volumes,  covers  a  large 
space  of  historical  ground, — from  the  marriage 
of  Philip  the  Fair,  in  1495,  to  the  peace  of 
Westphalia,  in  1648.  Its  literary  execution 
is  by  no  means  equal  to  its  other  merits. 
The  work  is  written  In  French ;  but  Van- 
dervynckt, unfortunately,  while  he  both  wrote 
and  spoke  Flemish,  and  even  I«atin,  with 
facility,  was  but  indifferently  acquainted  with 
French. 


166  PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN. 

was  from  their  brethren  abroad.  Some  ecclesiastics  in  the  train  of  Philip, 
suspecting  the  heresy  of  several  of  their  own  countrymen  in  the  Netherlands, 
had  them  seized  and  sent  to  Spain,  to  be  examined  by  the  Inquisition.  On  a 
closer  investigation,  it  was  found  that  a  correspondence  had  long  been  main- 
tained between  these  persons  and  their  countrymen,  of  a  similar  persuasion 
with  themselves,  at  home.  Thus  the  existence,  though  not  the  extent,  of  the 
Spanish  Reformation  was  made  known.4 

No  sooner  was  the  alarm  sounded  than  Paul  the  Fourth,  quick  to  follow  up 
the  scent  of  heresy  in  any  quarter  of  his  pontifical  dominions,  issued  a  brief, 
in  February,  1558,  addressed  to  the  Spanish  inquisitor-general.  In  this  brief, 
his  holiness  enjoins  it  on  the  head  of  the  tribunal  to  spare  no  efforts  to  detect 
and  exterminate  the  growing  evil ;  and  he  empowers  that  functionary  to 
arraign  and  bring  to  condign  punishment  all  suspected  of  heresy,  of  whatever 
rank  or  profession. — whether  bishops  or  archbishops,  nobles,  kings,  or  empe- 
rors. Paul  the  Fourth  was  fond  of  contemplating  himself  as  seated  in  the 
chair  of  the  Innocents  and  the  Gregories,  and  like  them  setting  his  pontifical 
foot  on  the  necks  of  princes.  His  natural  arrogance  was  probably  not  dimin- 
ished by  the  concessions  which  Philip  the  Second  had  thought  proper  to  make 
to  him  at  the  close  of  the  Roman  war. 

Philip,  far  from  taking  umbrage  at  the  swelling  tone  of  this  apostolical 
mandate,  followed  it  up,  in  the  same  year,  by  a  monstrous  edict,  borrowed  from 
one  in  the  Netherlands,  which  condemned  all  who  bought,  sold,  or  read  pro- 
hibited works  to  be  burned  alive. 

In  the  following  January,  Paul,  to  give  greater  efficacy  to  this  edict,  pub- 
lished another  bull,  in  which  he  commanded  all  confessors,  under  pain  of 
excommunication,  to  enjoin  on  their  penitents  to  inform  against  all  persons, 
however  nearly  allied  to  them,  who  might  be  guilty  of  such  practices.  To 
quicken  the  zeal  of  the  informer,  Philip,  on  his  part,  revived  a  law  fallen 
somewhat  into  disuse,  by  which  the  accuser  was  to  receive  one-fourth  of  the 
confiscated  property  of  the  convicted  party.  And,  finally,  a  third  bull  from 
Paul  allowed  the  inquisitors  to  withhold  a  pardon  from  the  recanting  heretic 
if  any  doubt  existed  of  his  sincerity ;  thus  placing  the  life  as  well  as  fortune 
of  the  unhappy  prisoner  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  judges  who  had  an  obvious 
interest  in  finding  him  guilty.  In  this  way  the  pope  and  the  king  continued 
to  play  into  each  other's  hands,  and  while  his  holiness  artfully  spread  the  toils, 
the  king  devised  the  means  for  driving  the  quarry  into  them.4 

Fortunately  for  these  plans,  the  Inquisition  was  at  this  time  under  the 
direction  of  a  man  peculiarly  fitted  to  execute  them.  This  was  Fernando 
Valdes,  cardinal-archbishop  of  Seville,  a  person  of  a  hard,  inexorable  nature, 
and  possessed  of  as  large  a  measure  of  fanaticism  as  ever  fell  to  a  grand  in- 
quisitor since  the  days  of  Torquemada.  Yaldes  readily  availed  himself  of  the 
terrible  machinery  placed  under  his  control  Careful  not  to  alarm  the  sus- 
pected parties,  his  approaches  were  slow  and  stealthy.  He  was  the  chief  of 
a  tribunal  which  sat  in  darkness  and  which  dealt  by  invisible  agents.  He 
worked  long  and  silently  underground  before  firing  the  mine  which  was  to 
bury  his  enemies  in  a  general  rum. 

His  spies  were  everywhere  abroad,  mingling  with  the  suspected  and  insinu- 
ating themselves  into  their  confidence.  At  length,  by  the  treachery  of  some, 

4  For  the  preceding  pages,  see  Llorpnte,  Spayne  (London,    1569),  p.   73.— Sepnlveda, 

Histoire    de    1'Inquisition    d'Espagne,  tom.  Opera,  tom.  iii.  p.  54. 

ii.  p.  2H2,  tom.  iii.  pp.  191,  258. — Montanus,  s  Llorente,  Hist,  de  ('Inquisition  d'Espagne, 

Discovery  and  playne  Declaration  of  sundry  tom.  1.  pp.  470,  471,  tom.  ii.  pp.  183,  1«4, 

subtill  Practises  of  the  Holy  Inquisition  of  215-217. 


SUPPRESSION  OF  THE  REFORM.  167 

and  by  working  on  the  nervous  apprehensions  or  the  religious  scruples  of 
others,  he  succeeded  in  detecting  the  lurking-places  of  the  new  heresy  and  the 
extent  of  ground  which  it  covered.  This  was  much  larger  than  had  been 
imagined,  although  the  Reformation  in  Spain  seemed  less  formidable  from  the 
number  of  its  proselytes  than  from  their  character  and  position.  Many  of 
them  were  ecclesiastics,  especially  intrusted  with  maintaining  the  purity  of  the 
faith^  The  quarters  in  which  the  heretical  doctrines  most  prevailed  were 
Aragon,  which  held  an  easy  communication  with  the  Huguenots  of  France, 
and  the  ancient  cities  of  Seville  and  Valladolid,  indebted  less  to  any  local 
advantages  than  to  the  influence  of  a  few  eminent  men  who  had  eariy  em- 
braced the  faith  of  the  Reformers. 

At  length,  the  preliminary  information  having  been  obtained,  the  pro- 
scribed having  been  marked  out,  the  plan  of  attack  settled,  an  order  was 
given  for  the  simultaneous  arrest  of  all  persons  suspected  of  heresy,  through- 
out the  kingdom.  It  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  on  the  unhappy  victims,  who  had 
gone  on  with  their  secret  associations,  little  suspecting  the  ruin  that  hung 
over  them.  No  resistance  was  attempted.  Men  and  women,  churchmen  and 
laymen,  persons  of  ail  ranks  and  professions,  were  hurried  from  their  homes 
and  lodged  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  Inquisition.  Yet  these  could  not 
furnish  accommodations  for  the  number,  and  many  were  removed  to  the 
ordinary  prisons,  and  even  to  convents  and  private  dwellings.  In  Sevile  alone 
eight  hundred  were  arrested  on  the  first  day.  Fears  were  entertained  of  an 
attempt  at  rescue,  and  an  additional  guard  was  stationed  over  the  places  of 
confinement.  The  inquisitors  were  in  the  condition  of  a  fisherman  whose 
cast  lias  been  so  successful  that  the  draught  of  fishes  seems  likely  to  prove 
too  heavy  for  his  net.* 

The  arrest  of  one  party  gradually  led  to  the  detection  of  others.  Dragged 
from  his  solitary  dungeon  before  the  secret  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition,  alone, 
without  counsel  to  aid  or  one  friendly  face  to  cheer  him,  without  knowing  the 
name  of  his  accuser,  without  being  allowed  to  confront  the  witnesses  who 
were  there  to  swear  away  his  life,  without  even  a  sight  of  his  own  process, 
except  such  garbled  extracts  as  the  wily  judges  thought  fit  to  communicate, 
is  it  strange  that  the  unhappy  victim,  in  his  perplexity  and  distress,  should 
have  been  drawn  into  disclosures  fatal  to  his  associates  and  himself  ?  If  these 
disclosures  were  not  to  the  mind  of  his  judges,  they  had  only  to  try  the 
efficacy  of  the  torture, — the  rack,  the  cord,  and  the  pulley, — until,  when  every 
joint  had  been  wrenched  from  its  socket,  the  barbarous  tribunal  was  com- 
pelled to  suspend,  not  terminate,  the  application,  from  the  inability  of  the 
sufferer  to  endure  it  Such  were  the  dismal  scenes  enacted  in  the  name  of 
religion,  and  by  the  ministers  of  religion,  as  well  as  of  the  Inquisition,— scenes 
to  whicn  few  of  those  who  had  once  witnessed  them,  and  escaped  with  life, 
dared  ever  to  allude.  For  to  reveal  the  secrets  of  the  Inquisition  was  death.' 

At  the  expiration  of  eighteen  months  from  the  period  of  the  first  arrests, 
many  of  the  trials  had  been  concluded,  the  doom  of  the  prisoners  was  sealed, 
and  it  was  thought  time  that  the  prisons  should  disgorge  their  superfluous 
inmates.  Valladolid  was  selected  as  the  theatre  of  the  first  auto  de  W,  both 
from  the  importance  of  the  capital  and  the  presence  of  the  court,  which  would 
thus  sanction  and  give  greater  dignity  to  the  celebration.  This  event  took 

•  McCrie,  History  of  the  Reformation  In  find  a  rooro  particular  account  of  the  origin 

Spain  (Kdlnburgh,  1829),  p.  24'L— IMacion  and  organization  of  the  modem  Inquisition 

del  Autoque  w  bic.oen  Valladolid  el  dla  de  in  the"  Hixtory  of  l-Vrdmand  and  Isabella," 

la  Sa"ftl*«iiiia  Trinidad,  Aho  de  ir.59,  MS.  part  i.  rap.  9. 

'  The  reader  curious  in  the  matter  will 


166  PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN. 

was  from  their  brethren  abroad.  Some  ecclesiastics  in  the  train  of  Philip, 
suspecting  the  heresy  of  several  of  their  own  countrymen  in  the  Netherlands, 
had  them  seized  and  sent  to  Spain,  to  be  examined  by  the  Inquisition.  On  a 
closer  investigation,  it  was  found  that  a  correspondence  had  long  been  main- 
tained between  these  persons  and  their  countrymen,  of  a  similar  persuasion 
with  themselves,  at  home.  Thus  the  existence,  though  not  the  extent,  of  the 
Spanish  Reformation  was  made  known.4 

No  sooner  was  the  alarm  sounded  than  Paul  the  Fourth,  quick  to  follow  up 
the  scent  of  heresy  in  any  quarter  of  his  pontifical  dominions,  issued  a  brier, 
in  February,  1558,  addressed  to  the  Spanish  inquisitor-general.  In  this  brief, 
his  holiness  enjoins  it  on  the  head  of  the  tribunal  to  spare  no  efforts  to  detect 
and  exterminate  the  growing  evil ;  and  he  empowers  that  functionary  to 
arraign  and  bring  to  condign  punishment  all  suspected  of  heresy,  of  whatever 
rank  or  profession, — whether  bishops  or  archbishops,  nobles,  kings,  or  empe- 
rors. Paul  the  Fourth  was  fond  of  contemplating  himself  as  seated  in  the 
chair  of  the  Innocents  and  the  Gregories,  ana  like  them  setting  his  pontifical 
foot  on  the  necks  of  princes.  His  natural  arrogance  was  probably  not  dimin- 
ished by  the  concessions  which  Philip  the  Second  had  thought  proper  to  make 
to  him  at  the  close  of  the  Roman  war. 

Philip,  far  from  taking  umbrage  at  the  swelling  tone  of  this  apostolical 
mandate,  followed  it  up,  in  the  same  year,  by  a  monstrous  edict,  borrowed  from 
one  in  the  Netherlands,  which  condemned  all  who  bought,  sold,  or  read  pro- 
hibited works  to  be  burned  alive. 

In  the  following  January,  Paul,  to  give  greater  efficacy  to  this  edict,  pub- 
lished another  bull,  in  which  he  commanded  all  confessors,  under  pain  of 
excommunication,  to  enjoin  on  their  penitents  to  inform  against  all  persons, 
however  nearly  allied  to  them,  who  might  be  guilty  of  such  practices.  To 
quicken  the  zeal  of  the  informer,  Philip,  on  his  part,  revived  a  law  fallen 
somewhat  into  disuse,  by  which  the  accuser  was  to  receive  one-fourth  of  the 
confiscated  property  of  the  convicted  party.  And,  finally,  a  third  bull  from 
Paul  allowed  the  inquisitors  to  withhold  a  pardon  from  the  recanting  heretic 
if  any  doubt  existed  of  his  sincerity ;  thus  placing  the  life  as  well  as  fortune 
of  the  unhappy  prisoner  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  judges  who  had  an  obvious 
interest  in  finding  him  guilty.  In  this  way  the  pope  and  the  king  continued 
to  play  into  each  other's  hands,  and  while  his  holiness  artfully  spread  the  toils, 
the  king  devised  the  means  for  driving  the  quarry  into  them.5 

Fortunately  for  these  plans,  the  Inquisition  was  at  this  time  under  the 
direction  of  a  man  peculiarly  fitted  to  execute  them.  This  was  Fernando 
Valdes,  cardinal-archbishop  of  Seville,  a  person  of  a  hard,  inexorable  nature, 
and  possessed  of  as  large  a  measure  of  fanaticism  as  ever  fell  to  a  grand  in- 
quisitor since  the  days  of  Torquemada.  Yaldes  readily  availed  himself  of  the 
terrible  machinery  placed  under  his  control!  Careful  not  to  alarm  the  sus- 
pected parties,  his  approaches  were  slow  and  stealthy.  He  was  the  chief  of 
a  tribunal  which  sat  in  darkness  and  which  dealt  by  invisible  agents.  He 
worked  long  and  silently  underground  before  firing  the  mine  which  was  to 
bury  his  enemies  in  a  general  ruin. 

His  spies  were  everywhere  abroad,  mingling  with  the  suspected  and  insinu- 
ating themselves  into  their  confidence.  At  length,  by  the  treachery  of  some, 

•  For  the  preceding  pages,  see  Llorente,  Spayne  (London,    1569),  p.   73.— Sepulveda, 

Histoire    de    1'Inquisition    d'Espagne,  tom.  Opera,  torn.  iii.  p.  54. 

ii.  p.  282,  tom.  iii.  pp.  191,  258.— Montanus,  s  Llorente,  Hist,  de  I'lnquisitlon  d'Espagne, 

Discovery  and  playne  Declaration  of  sundry  tom.  I.  pp.  470,  471,  torn.  ii.  pp.  183,   184, 

subtill  Practises  of  the  Holy  Inquisition  of  215-217. 


SUPPRESSION  OF  THE  REFORM.  167 

and  by  working  on  the  nervous  apprehensions  or  the  religious  scruples  of 
others,  he  succeeded  in  detecting  the  lurking-places  of  the  new  heresy  and  the 
extent  of  ground  which  it  covered.  This  was  much  larger  than  had  been 
imagined,  although  the  Reformation  in  Spain  seemed  less  formidable  from  the 
number  of  its  proselytes  than  from  their  character  and  position.  Many  of 
them  were  ecclesiastics,  especially  intrusted  with  maintaining  the  purity  of  the 
faith.  The  quarters  in  which  the  heretical  doctrines  most  prevailed  were 
Aragon,  which  held  an  easy  communication  with  the  Huguenots  of  France, 
and  the  ancient  cities  of  Seville  and  Valladolid,  indebted  less  to  any  local 
advantages  than  to  the  influence  of  a  few  eminent  men  who  had  early  em- 
braced the  faith  of  the  Reformers. 

At  length,  the  preliminary  information  having  been  obtained,  the  pro- 
scribed having  been  marked  out,  the  plan  of  attack  settled,  an  order  was 
given  for  the  simultaneous  arrest  of  all  persons  suspected  of  heresy,  through- 
out the  kingdom.  It  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  on  the  unhappy  victims,  who  had 
gone  on  with  their  secret  associations,  little  suspecting  the  ruin  that  hung 
over  them.  No  resistance  was  attempted.  Men  and  women,  churchmen  and 
laymen,  persons  of  all  ranks  and  professions,  were  hurried  from  their  homes 
and  lodged  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  Inquisition.  Yet  these  could  not 
furnish  accommodations  for  the  number,  and  many  were  removed  to  the 
ordinary  prisons,  and  even  to  convents  and  private  dwellings.  In  Sevile  alone 
eight  hundred  were  arrested  on  the  first  day.  Fears  were  entertained  of  an 
attempt  at  rescue,  and  an  additional  guard  was  stationed  over  the  places  of 
confinement  The  inquisitors  were  in  the  condition  of  a  fisherman  whose 
cast  has  been  so  successful  that  the  draught  of  fishes  seems  likely  to  prove 
too  heavy  for  his  net* 

The  arrest  of  one  party  gradually  led  to  the  detection  of  others.  Dragged 
from  his  solitary  dungeon  before  the  secret  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition,  alone, 
without  counsel  to  aid  or  one  friendly  face  to  cheer  him,  without  knowing  the 
name  of  his  accuser,  without  being  allowed  to  confront  the  witnesses  who 
were  there  to  swear  away  his  life,  without  even  a  sight  of  his  own  process, 
except  such  garbled  extracts  as  the  wily  judges  thought  fit  to  communicate, 
is  it  strange  that  the  unhappy  victim,  in  his  perplexity  and  distress,  should 
have  been  drawn  into  disclosures  fatal  to  his  associates  and  himself  ?  If  these 
disclosures  were  not  to  the  mind  of  his  judges,  they  had  only  to  try  the 
efficacy  of  the  torture, — the  rack,  the  cord,  and  the  pulley, — until,  when  every 
joint  had  been  wrenched  from  its  socket,  the  barbarous  tribunal  was  com- 
pelled to  suspend,  not  terminate,  the  application,  from  the  inability  of  the 
sufferer  to  endure  it.  Such  were  the  dismal  scenes  enacted  in  the  name  of 
religion,  and  by  the  ministers  of  religion,  as  well  as  of  the  Inquisition,— scenes 
to  which  few  of  those  who  had  once  witnessed  them,  and  escaped  with  life, 
dared  ever  to  allude.  For  to  reveal  the  secrets  of  the  Inquisition  was  death.7 

At  the  expiration  of  eighteen  months  from  the  period  of  the  first  arrests 
many  of  the  trials  had  been  concluded,  the  doom  of  the  prisoners  was  sealed, 
and  it  was  thought  time  that  the  prisons  should  disgorge  their  superfluous 
inmates.  Valladolid  was  selected  as  the  theatre  of  the  first  auto  de  fc  both 
from  the  importance  of  the  capital  and  the  presence  of  the  court,  which  would 
thus  sanction  and  give  greater  dignity  to  the  celebration.  This  event  took 

•  McCrK  History  of  the  Reformation  In  find  a  more  particular  account  of  the  origin 

Spain  (Kdiuburgh,  1829%  p.  24'!.— rb-lacion  ami  organization  of  the  modern  Inquisition 

del  AuUi  que  w  bico  en  Valladolid  el  dla  de  in  the  "  History  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella," 

la  Sa»rttn.«ima  Trinidad,  Ano  de  lf.59.  M.S.  part  I.  rap.  9. 

'  The  reader  curious  in  the  matter  will 


108  PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN. 

place  in  May,  1559.  The  Regent  Joanna,  the  young  prince  of  Asturias,  Don 
Carlos,  and  the  principal  grandees  of  the  court,  were  there  to  witness  the 
spectacle.  By  rendering  the  heir  of  the  crown  thus  early  familiar  with  the 
tender  mercies  of  the  Holy  Office,  it  may  have  been  intended  to  conciliate  his 
favour  to  that  institution.  If  such  was  the  object,  according  to  the  report  it 
signally  failed,  since  the  woeful  spectacle  left  no  other  impressions  on  the 
mind  of  the  prince  than  those  of  indignation  and  disgust 

The  example  of  Valladolid  was  soon  followed  by  autos  de  ft  in  Granada, 
Toledo,  Seville,  Barcelona, — in  short,  in  the  twelve  capitals  in  which  tribunals 
of  the  Holy  Office  were  established.  A  second  celebration  at  Valladolid  was 
reserved  for  the  eighth  of  October  in  the  same  year,  when  it  would  be  graced 
by  the  presence  of  the  sovereign  himself.  Indeed,  as  several  of  the  processes 
had  been  concluded  some  months  before  this  period,  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  the  sacrifice  of  more  than  one  of  the  victims  had  been  postponed  in  order 
to  give  greater  effect  to  the  spectacle." 

The  auto  defl—"&ct  of  faith"— was  the  most  imposing,  as  it  was  the  most 
awful,  of  the  solemnities  authorized  by  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  It  was 
intended,  somewhat  profanely,  as  has  been  intimated,  to  combine  the  poiup 
of  the  Roman  triumph  with  the  terrors  of  the  day  of  judgment.'  It  may 
remind  one  quite  as  much  of  those  bloody  festivals  prejjared  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  the  Caesars  in  the  Coliseum.  The  religkrtls  importjjf  the  auto  dejtf 
was  intimated  by  the  circumstance  of  its  being  celebrated  on  a  Sunday,  or 
some  other  holiday  of  the  Church.  An  indulgence  for  forty  days  was  granted 
by  his  holiness  to  all  who  should  be  present  at  the  spectacle ;  as  if  the  appetite 
for  witnessing  the  scenes  of  human  suffering  required  to  be  stimulated  by  a 
bounty, — that,  too,  in  Spain,  where  the  amusements  were,  and  still  are,  of 
the  most  sanguinary  character. 

The  scene  for  this  second  au to  de  ft  &t  Valladolid  was  the  great  square  in 
front  of  the  church  of  St.  Francis.  At  one  end  a  platform  was  raised,  covered 
with  rich  carpeting,  on  which  were  ranged  the  seats  of  the  inquisitors,  em- 
blazoned with  the  arms  of  the  Holy  Office.  Near  to  this  was  the  royal 
gallery,  a  private  entrance  to  which  secured  the  inmates  from  molestation  by 
the  crowd.  Opposite  to  this  gallery  a  large  scaffold  was  erected,  so  as  to  be 
visible  from  all  parts  of  the  arena,  and  was  appropriated  to  the  unhappy 
martyrs  who  were  to  suffer  in  the  auto. 

At  six  in  the  morning  all  the  bells  in  the  capital  began  to  toll,  and  a  solemn 
procession  was  seen  to  move  from  the  dismal  fortress  of  the  Inquisition.  In 
the  van  marched  a  body  of  troops,  to  secure  a  free  passage  for  the  procession. 
Then  came  the  condemned,  each  attended  by  two  familiars  of  the  Holy  Office, 
and  those  who  were  to  suffer  at  the  stake  by  two  friars,  in  addition,  exhorting 
the  heretic  to  abjure  his  errors.  Those  admitted  to  penitence  wore  a  sable 
dress  ;  while  the  unfortunate  martyr  was  enveloped  in  a  loose  sack  of  yellow 
cloth, — the  san  benito, — with  his  head  surmounted  by  a  cap  of  pasteboard  of 
a  conical  form,  which,  together  with  the  cloak,  was  embroidered  with  figures 
of  flames  and  of  devils  fanning  and  feeding  them  ;  all  emblematical  of  the 
destiny  of  the  heretic's  soul  in  the  world  to  come,  as  well  as  of  his  body  in  the 
present.  Then  came  the  magistrates  of  the  citv,  the  judges  of  the  courts, 
the  ecclesiastical  orders,  and  the  nobles  of  the  land,  on  horseback.  These 
were  followed  by  the  members  of  the  dread  tribunal,  and  the  fiscal,  bearing 

*  See  the  Register  of  such  as  were  burned  se  hi$o  en  Valladolid  el  dia  de  la  Sanctissima 

at  Seville  and  Valladolid,  in  1559,  ap.  Mon-  Trinidad,  1559,  >1S.— Seputveda,  Opera,  torn, 

tanus,  Discovery  of  sundry  subtill  Practises  Hi.  p.  58. 
of  the  Inquisition.— Relacion  del  Auto  quo  »  McCrie,  Reformation  in  Spain,  p.  274. 


AUTOS  DE  FE.  1C9 

a  standard  of  crimson  damask,  on  one  side  of  which  were  displayed  the  arms 
of  the  Inquisition,  and  on  the  other  the  insignia  of  its  founders,  Sixtus  the 
Fifth  and  Ferdinand  the  Catholic.  Next  came  a  numerous  train  of  familiars, 
well  mounted,  among  whom  were  many  of  the  gentry  of  the  province,  proud 
to  act  as  the  body-guard  of  the  Holy  Office.  The  rear  was  brought  up  by  an 
immense  concourse  of  the  common  people,  stimulated  on  the  present  occasion, 
no  doubt,  by  the  loyal  desire  to  see  their  new  sovereign,  as  well  as  by  the 
ambition  to  share  in  the  triumphs  of  the  auto  deft.  The  number  thus  drawn 
together  from  the  capital  ana  the  country,  far  exceeding  what  was  usual  on 
such  occasions,  is  estimated  by  one  present  at  full  two  hundred  thousand." 

As  the  multitude  defiled  into  the  square,  the  inquisitors  took  their  place  on 
the  seats  prepared  for  their  reception.  The  condemned  were  conducted  to 
the  scaffold,  and  the  royal  station  was  occupied  by  Philip,  with  the  different 
members  of  his  household.  At  his  side  sat  his  sister,  the  late  regent,  his  son, 
Don  Carlos,  his  nephew,  Alexander  Farnese,  several  foreign  ambassadors, 
and  the  principal  grandees  and  higher  ecclesiastics  in  attendance  on  the  court. 
It  was  an  august  assembly  of  the  greatest  and  the  proudest  in  the  land.  But 
the  most  indifferent  spectator,  who  had  a  spark  of  humanity  in  his  bosom, 
might  have  turned  with  feelings  of  admiration  from  this  array  of  worldly 
power,  to  the  poor  martyr,  who,  with  no  support  but  what  he  drew  from 
within,  was  prepared  to  defy  this  power  and  to  lay  down  his  life  in  vindication 
of  the  rights  of  conscience.  Some  there  may  have  been,  in  that  large  con- 
course, who  shared  in  these  sentiments.  But  their  number  was  small  indeed 
in  comparison  with  those  who  looked  on  the  wretched  victim  as  the  enemy  of 
God,  and  his  approaching  sacrifice  as  the  most  glorious  triumph  of  the  Cross. 

The  ceremonies  began  with  a  sermon,  "the  sermon  of  the  faith,"  by  the 
bishop  of  Zamora.  The  subject  of  it  may  well  be  guessed,  from  the  occasion. 
It  was  no  doubt  plentifully  larded  with  texts  of  Scripture,  and,  unless  the 

E  readier  departed  from  the  fashion  of  the  time,  with  passages  from  the 
eathen  writers,  however  much  out  of  place  they  may  seem  in  an  orthodox 
discourse. 

When  the  bishop  had  concluded,  the  grand  inquisitor  administered  an  oath 
to  the  assembled  multitude,  who  on  their  knees  solemnly  swore  to  defend  the 
Inquisition,  to  maintain  the  purity  of  the  faith,  and  to  inform  against  any 
one  who  should  swerve  from  it.  As  Philip  repeated  an  oath  of  similar  import. 
he  suited  the  action  to  the  word,  and,  rising  from  his  seat,  drew  his  sword 
from  its  scabbard,  as  if  to  announce  himself  the  determined  champion  of  the 
Holy  Office.  In  the  earlier  autos  of  the  Moorish  and  Jewish  infidels,  so 
humiliating  an  oath  had  never  been  exacted  from  the  sovereign. 

After  this,  the  secretary  of  the  tribunal  read  aloud  an  instrument  reciting 
the  grounds  for  the  conviction  of  the  prisoners,  and  the  respective  sentences 
pronounced  against  them.  Those  who  were  to  be  admitted  to  penitence,  each, 
as  his  sentence  was  proc'aimed,  knelt  down,  and,  with  his  hands  on  the 
missal,  solemnly  abjured  his  errors,  and  was  absolved  by  the  grand  inquisitor. 
The  absolution,  however,  was  not  so  entire  as  to  relieve  the  offender  from  the 
penalty  of  his  transgressions  in  this  world.  Some  were  doomed  to  perpetual 
imprisonment  in  the  cells  of  the  Inquisition,  others  to  lighter  penances.  All 
were  doomed  to  the  confiscation  or  their  property, — a  point  of  too  great 
moment  to  the  welfare  of  the  tribunal  ever  to  he  omitted.  Besides  this,  in 
many  cases  the  offender,  and,  by  a  glaring  perversion  of  justice,  his  immediate 
descendants,  were  rendered  for  ever  ineligible  to  public  office  of  any  kind,  ami 
their  names  branded  with  perpetual  infamy.  Thus  blighted  in  fortune  and  in 
10  De  Castro,  Historia  de  lew  Prutestantes  Etpafiolos  (Cadiz,  1851),  p.  177. 


170  PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN. 

character,  they  were  said,  in  the  soft  language  of  the  Inquisition,  to  be 
reconciled. 

As  these  unfortunate  persons  were  remanded,  under  a  strong  guard,  to 
their  prisons,  all  eyes  were  turned  on  the  little  company  of  martyrs,  who, 
clothed  in  the  ignominious  garb  of  the  san  benito,  stood  awaiting  the  sentence 
of  their  judges,  with  cords  round  their  necks,  and  in  their  hands  a  cross,  or 
sometimes  an  inverted  torch,  typical  of  their  own  speedy  dissolution.  The 
interest  of  the  spectators  was  still  further  excited,  in  the  present  instance,  by 
the  fact  that  several  of  these  victims  were  not  only  illustrious  for  their  rank, 
but  yet  more  so  for  their  talents  and  virtues.  In  their  haggard  looks,  their 
emaciated  forms,  and  too  often,  alas !  their  distorted  limbs,  it  was  easy  to 
read  the  story  of  their  sufferings  in  their  long  imprisonment,  for  some  of  them 
had  been  confined  in  the  dark  cells  of  the  Inquisition  much  more  than  a  year. 
Yet  their  countenances,  though  haggard,  far  from  showing  any  sign  of  weak- 
ness or  fear,  were  lighted  up  with  the  glow  of  holy  enthusiasm,  as  of  men 
prepared  to  seal  their  testimony  with  their  blood. 

When  that  part  of  the  process  showing  the  grounds  of  their  conviction  had 
been  read,  the  grand  inquisitor  consigned  them  to  the  hands  of  the  corregidor 
of  the  city,  beseeching  nim  to  deal  with  the  prisoners  in  all  kindness  and 
•mercy  ;  "  a  honeyed  but  most  hypocritical  phrase,  since  no  choice  was  left  to 
the  civil  magistrate  but  to  execute  the  terrible  sentence  of  the  law  against 
heretics,  the  preparations  for  which  had  been  made  by  him  a  week  before.12 

The  whole  number  of  convicts  amounted  to  thirty,  of  whom  sixteen  were 
reconciled,  and  the  remainder  relaxed  to  the  secular  arm, — in  other  words, 
turned  over  to  the  civil  magistrate  for  execution.  There  were  few  of  those 
thus  condemned  who,  when  brought  to  the  stake,  did  not  so  far  shrink  from 
the  dreadful  doom  that  awaited  them  as  to  consent  to  purchase  a  commutation 
of  it  by  confession  before  they  died ;  in  which  case  they  were  strangled  by  the 
garrote  before  their  bodies  were  thrown  into  the  flames. 

Of  the  present  number  there  were  only  two  whose  constancy  triumphed  to 
the  last  over  the  dread  of  suffering,  and  who  refused  to  purchase  any  mitiga- 
tion of  it  by  a  compromise  with  conscience.  The  names  of  these  martyrs 
should  be  engraven  on  the  record  of  history. 

One  of  them  was  Don  Carlos  de  Seso,  a  noble  Florentine,  who  had  stood 
high  in  the  favour  of  Charles  the  Fifth.  Being  united  with  a  lady  of  rank  in 
Castile,  he  removed  to  that  country  and  took  up  his  residence  in  Valladolid. 
He  had  become  a  convert  to  the  Lutheran  doctrines,  which  he  first  communi- 
cated to  his  own  family,  and  afterwards  snowed  equal  zeal  in  propagating 
among  the  people  of  Valladolid  and  its  neighbourhood.  In  short,  there  was 
no  man  to  whose  untiring  and  intrepid  labours  the  cause  of  the  Reformed 
religion  in  Spain  was  more  indebted.  He  "was,  of  course,  a  conspicuous  mark 
for  the  Inquisition. 

During  the  fifteen  months  in  which  he  lay  in  its  gloomy  cells,  cut  off  from 
human  sympathy  and  support,  his  constancy  remained  unshaken.  The  night 
preceding  his  execution,  when  his  sentence  had  been  announced  to  him,  De 
Seso  called  for  writing-materials.  It  was  thought  he  designed  to  propitiate 
his  judges  by  a  full  confession  of  his  errors.  But  the  confession  he  made  was 
of  another  kind.  He  insisted  on  the  errors  of  the  Romish  Church,  and  avowed 
his  unshaken  trust  in  the  great  truths  of  the  Reformation.  The  document, 
covering  two  sheets  of  paper,  is  pronounced  by  the  secretary  of  the  Inquisition 

11  "  Nous  recommandons  de  le  trailer  avec  "  Colmenares,    Historia  de  Segovia,   cap. 

bontfi  et  misericord*."  l.lureute,  Inquisition  xlii.  sec.  3.— Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib. 
d'Espagne,  torn.  ii.  p.  253.  v.  cap.  3. 


AUTOS  DE  FE\  171 

to  be  a  composition  equally  remarkable  for  its  energy  and  precision."  When 
led  before  the  royal  gallery,  on  his  way  to  the  place  of  execution,  De  Seso 
pathetically  exclaimed  to  Philip,  "  Is  it  thus  that  you  allow  your  innocent 
subjects  to  be  persecuted  ? "  To  which  the  king  made  the  memorable  reply, 
"  If  it  were  my  own  son,  I  would  fetch  the  wood  to  burn  him,  were  he  such  a 
wretch  as  thou  art ! "  It  was  certainly  a  characteristic  answer.14 

At  the  stake  De  Seso  showed  the  same  unshaken  constancy,  bearing  his 
testimony  to  the  truth  of  the  great  cause  for  which  he  gave  up  his  life.  As 
the  flames  crept  slowly  around  him,  he  called  on  the  soldiers  to  heap  up  the 
fagots,  that  his  agonies  might  be  sooner  ended  ;  and  his  executioners,  indig- 
nant at  the  obstinacy — the  heroism — of  the  martyr,  were  not  slow  in  obeying 
lu's  commands.1* 

The  companion  and  fellow-sufferer  of  De  Seso  was  Domingo  de  Roxas,  son 
of  the  marquis  de  Poza,  an  unhappy  noble,  who  had  seen  five  of  his  family, 
including  his  eldest  son,  condemned  to  various  humiliating  penances  by  the 
.Inquisition  for  their  heretical  opinions.  This  one  was  now  to  suffer  death. 
De  Roxas  was  a  Dominican  monk.  It  is  singular  that  this  order,  from  which 
the  ministers  of  the  Holy  Oflice  were  particularly  taken,  furnished  many 
proselytes  to  the  Reformed  religion.  De  Roxas,  as  was  the  usage  with  ecclesi- 
astics, was  allowed  to  retain  his  sacerdotal  habit  until  his  sentence  had  been 
read,  when  he  was  degraded  from  his  ecclesiastical  rank,  his  vestments  were 
stripped  off  one  after  another,  and  the  hideous  dress  of  the  san  benito  thrown 
over  nim,  amid  the  shouts  and  derision  of  the  populace.  Thus  apparelled,  he 
made  an  attempt  to  address  the  spectators  around  the  scaffold ;  but  no  sooner 
did  he  beyin  to  raise  his  voice  against  the  errors  and  cruelties  of  Rome  than 
Philip  indignantly  commanded  him  to  be  gagged.  The  gag  was  a  piece  of 
cleft  wood,  which,  forcibly  compressing  the  tongue,  had  the  additional 
advantage  of  causing  great  pain  while  it  silenced  the  offender.  Even  when 
he  was  oound  to  the  stake,  the  gag,  though  contrary  to  custom,  was  suffered 
to  remain  in  the  mouth  of  De  Roxas,  as  if  his  enemies  dreaded  the  effects  of 
an  eloquence  that  triumphed  over  the  anguish  of  death.1' 

The  place  of  execution — the  quemadero,  the  burning-place,  as  it  was  called 
— was  a  spot  selected  for  the  purpose  without  the  walls  of  the  city.17  Those 
who  attended  an  auto  de  fe  were  not,  therefore,  necessarily,  as  is  commonly 
imagined,  spectators  of  the  tragic  scene  that  concluded  it.  The  great  body  of 
the  people,  and  many  of  higher  rank,  no  doubt,  followed  to  the  place  of 
execution.  On  this  occasion  there  is  reason  to  think,  from  the  language— 
somewliat  equivocal,  it  is  true — of  Philip's  biographer,  that  the  monarch  chose 
to  testify  his  devotion  to  the  Inquisition  by  witnessing  in  person  the  appalling 
close  of  the  drama ;  while  his  guards  mingled  with  the  menials  of  the  Holy 
Office  and  heaped  up  the  fagots  round  their  victims." 

"  Llorente,   Inquisition    d'Espagne,  torn.  y  aevero  respondio,  Yo  trahere  la  IfTm  para 

II.  p.  236.  quemar  &  mi  bijo.  si  fuere  tan  malo  conio  vos. 

"  The  anedote  is  well  attested.     (Cabrera,  Accion  y  paladras  dignas  de  tal  Key  en  cans* 

Fllipe    Segundo,    lib.   v.  cap.    3.)      Father  de  In  suprema  r<  llgion."    HUturiadeSeguvta, 

Agurtin  Itavila  notices  what  he  styles  this  cap  xlii.  sec.  3. 

tenteneia  famota  in  his  funeral  dim-nirce  on  "  Llorente,  Inquisition  d'Espagne,  torn.  II. 

1'iiilip.  dellven-d  at  Valladolid  soon  after  tint  p.  237. 

monarch's  death.     (Sermones  funerale*.  en  '•  Montanus,  Discovery  of  sundry  sulitill 

•TIM  del   Key  Don  Felipe  II..  fol.  77.)  Practise*  of  the  Inqut>-itlon,  p.  52.— Llorente, 

Colmenares  still  more  emphatically  enU^izcs        Inquisition  d'Enp&gne.   torn.  il.  p.  239 Se- 

the  words  thus  uttered  In  the  cause  of  the  pulveda.  Opera,  torn.  III.  p.  6H. 

true  faith,  a*  worthy  of  such  a  prince  :  "  Kl  "  Pulgblancli,  The  Inquisition  Unmasked 

primer  -entenciudo  al  furgo  en  este  Auto  fu6  (Ix>nd<>n,  1*16),  vol.  I.  p.  336. 

UM  rnrl<M  <|p  •*••«•>  de  sangre  noble,  que  o*S  '•  "  ll.illo-c  por  esto  prewnte  a  vrr  llevnr 

dezlral  Rey,  comoconaentiaquc  Icqucnuwen,  1    entregar    al   fuego   muchos  delinquents 


172 


PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN. 


Such  was  the  cruel  exhibition  which,  under  the  garb  of  a  religious  festival, 
was  thought  the  most  fitting  ceremonial  for  welcoming  the  Catholic  monarch 
to  his  dominions  !  During  the  whole  time  of  its  duration  in  the  public  square, 
from  six  in  the  morning  till  two  in  the  afternoon,  no  symptom  of  impatience 
was  exhibited  by  the  spectators,  and,  as  may  well  be  believed,  no  sign  of 
sympathy  for  the  sufferers.18  It  would  be  difficult  to  devise  a  better  school  for 
perverting  the  moral  sense  and  deadening  the  sensibilities  of  a  nation.20 

Under  the  royal  sanction,  the  work  of  persecution  now  went  forward  more 
briskly  than  ever.21  No  calling  was  too  sacred,  no  rank  too  high,  to  escape 
the  shafts  of  the  informer.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years,  no  less  than  nine 
bishops  were  compelled  to  do  humiliating  penance  in  some  form  or  other  for 
heterodox  opinions.  But  the  most  illustrious  victim  of  the  Inquisition  was 
Bartolome  Carranza,  archbishop  of  Toledo.  The  primacy  of  Spain  might  be 
considered  as  the  post  of  the  highest  consideration  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  after  the  papacy.21  The  proceedings  against  this  prelate,  on  the 
whole,  excited  more  interest  throughout  Christendom  than  any  other  case  that 
came  before  the  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition. 

Carranza,  who  was  of  an  ancient  Castilian  family,  had  early  entered  a 

aconpafiados  de  sus  guardas  dc  a  pie  i  de  a 
cavallo,  que  ayudaron  a  la  execucion."  Ca- 
brera, Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  v.  cap.  3.-  It  may 
be  doubted  whether  the  historian  means  any 
thing  more  than  that  Philip  saw  the  unlbr- 
tunate  men  led  to  execution,  at  which  his 
own  guards  assisted.  Davila,  the  friar  who, 
as  I  have  noticed,  pronounced  a  funeral  ora- 
tion on  the  king,  speaks  of  him  simply  as 
having  assisted  at  this  act  of  faith, — "as- 
sistir  a  los  actos  de  Fe,  como  se  vio  en  esta 
Cindad."  (Sermones  funerales,  fol.  •  77.) 
Could  the  worthy  father  have  ventured  to 
give  Philip  credit  for  being  present  at  the 
death,  he  would  not  have  failed  to  do  so. 
Leti,  less  scrupulous,  tells  us  that  Philip 
saw  the  execution  from  the  windows  of  his 
palace,  heard  the  cries  of  the  dying  martyrs, 
and  enjoyed  the  spectacle !  The  picture  he 
gives  of  the  scene  loses  nothing  for  want  of 
colouring.  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  342. 

"  How  little  sympathy,  may  be  inferred 
from  the  savage  satisfaction  with  which  a 
wise  and  temperate  historian  of  the  time  dis- 
misses to  everlasting  punishment  one  of  the 
martyrs  of  the  first  auto  at  Valladolid : 
"  Jureque  vivus  flammis  corpore  cruciatus  mi- 
serrimum  animam  efflavit  ad  supplicia  sem- 
piterna."  Sepulveda,  Opera,  torn.  iii.  p.  58. 

"°  Balmes,  one  of  the  most  successful 
champions  of  the  Romish  faith  in  our  time, 
finds  in  the  terrible  apathy  thus  shown  to 
the  sufferings  of  the  martyrs  a  proof  of  a 
more  vital  religious  sentiment  than  exists  at 
the  present  day :  "  We  feel  our  hair  grow 
stiff  on  our  beads  at  the  mere  idea  of  burning 
a  man  alive.  Placed  in  society  where  the 
religious  sentiment  is  considerably  dimin- 
ished, accustomed  to  live  among  men  who 
have  a  different  religion,  and  sometimes 
none  at  all,  we  cannot  bring  ourselves  to  be- 
lieve that  it  could  be,  at  that  time,  quite  an 
ordinary  thing  to  see  heretics  or  the  impious 
led  to  punishment."  Protestantism  and  Ca- 


tholicity compared  in  their  Effects  on  the 
Civilization  of  Europe,  Kng.  trans.  (Balti- 
more, 1851),  p.  217. — According  to  this  view 
of  the  matter,  the  more  religion  there  is 
among  men,  the  harder  will  be  their  hearts. 

"  The  zeal  of  the  king  and  the  Inquisition 
together  in  the  work  of  persecution  had  well- 
nigh  got  the  nation  into  more  than  one  diffi- 
culty with  foreign  countries.  Mann,  the 
English  minister,  was  obliged  to  remonstrate 
against  the  manner  in  which  the  independ- 
ence of  his  own  household  was  violated  by 
the  agents  of  the  Holy  Office.  The  com- 
plaints of  St.-Sulpice,  the  French  ambassador, 
notwithstanding  the  gravity  of  the  subject, 
are  told  in  a  vein  of  caustic  humour  that  may 
provoke  a  smile  in  the  reader  :  "  I  have  com- 
plained to  the  king  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  Marseillese,  and  other  Frenchmen,  are 
maltreated  by  the  Inquisition.  He  excused 
himself  by  saying  that  he  had  little  power  or 
authority  in  matters  which  depended  on  that 
body  ;  he  could  do  nothing  further  than  re- 
commend the  grand  inquisitor  to  cause  good 
and  speedy  justice  to  be  done  to  the  parties. 
The  grand  inquisitor  promised  that  they 
should  be  treated  no  worse  than  born  Cas- 
tilians,  and  the  '  good  and  speedy  justice ' 
came  to  this,  that  they  were  burnt  alive  in 
the  king's  presence."  Raumer,  Sixteenth 
and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  vol.  i.  p.  111. 

"*  The  archbishop  of  Toledo,  according  to 
Lucio  Marineo  Siculo,  who  wrote  a  few  years 
before  this  period,  had  jurisdiction  over  more 
than  fifteen  large  towns,  besides  smaller 
places,  which  of  course  made  the  number  of 
bis  vassals  enormous.  His  revenues,  also, 
amounting  to  eighty  thousand  ducats,  ex- 
ceeded those  of  any  grandee  in  the  kingdom. 
The  yearly  revenues  of  the  subordinate  bene- 
ficiaries of  his  church  were  together  not  less 
than  a  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  ducats. 
Cosas  memorables  de  Espafia  (.Alcala  de 
Henares,  1539),  fol.  13. 


PROSECUTION  OF  CARRANZA.  173 

Dominican  convent  in  the  suburbs  of  Guadalajara.  His  exemplary  life,  and 
his  great  pails  and  learning,  recommended  him  to  the  favour  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,  who  appointed  him  confessor  to  his  son  Philip.  The  emperor  also  sent 
him  to  the  Council  of  Trent,  where  he  made  a  great  impression  by  his  elo- 
quence, as  well  as  by  a  tract  which  he  published  against  plurality  of  benefices, 
which,  however,  excited  no  little  disgust  in  many  of  his  order.  On  Philip's 
visit  to  England  to  marry  Queen  Mary,  Carranza  accompanied  his  master,  and 
while  in  that  country  he  distinguished  himself  by  the  zeal  and  ability  with 
which  he  controverted  the  doctrines  of  the  Protestants.  The  alacrity,  more- 
over, which  he  manifested  in  the  work  of  persecution  made  him  generally 
odious  under  the  name  of  the  "  black  friar," — a  name  peculiarly  appropriate, 
as  it  applied  not  less  to  his  swarthy  complexion  than  to  the  garb  of  nis  order. 
On  Philip's  return  to  Flanders,  Carranza,  who  had  twice  refused  a  mitre,  was 
raised — not  without  strong  disinclination  on  his  own  part — to  the  archi- 
episcopal  see  of  Toledo.  The  "  nolo  episcopari,"  in  this  instance,  seems  to 
have  been  sincere.  It  would  have  been  well  for  him  if  it  had  been  effectual. 
Carranza's  elevation  to  the  primacy  was  the  source  of  all  his  troubles. 

The  hatred  of  theologians  has  passed  into  a  proverb ;  and  there  would 
certainly  seem  to  be  no  rancour  surpassing  that  of  a  Spanish  ecclesiastic. 
Among  the  enemies  raised  by  Carranza's  success,  the  most  implacable  was  the 
grand  inquisitor,  Valdes.  The  archbishop  of  Seville  could  ill  brook  that  a 
humble  Dominican  should  be  thus  raised  from  the  cloister  over  the  heads  of 
the  proud  prelacy  of  Spain.  With  unwearied  pains,  such  as  hate  only  could 
induce,  he  sought  out  whatever  could  make  against  the  orthodoxy  of  tne  new 
prelate,  whether  in  his  writings  or  his  conversation.  Some  plausible  ground 
was  afforded  for  this  from  the  fact  that,  although  Carranza,  as  his  whole  life 
had  shown,  was  devoted  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  yet  his  long  residence 
in  Protestant  countries,  and  his  familiarity  with  Protestant  works,  had  given 
a  colouring  to  his  language,  if  not  to  his  opinions,  which  resembled  that  of  the 
Reformers.  Indeed,  Carranza  seems  to  nave  been  much  of  the  same  way  of 
thinking  with  Pole,  Contarini,  Morone,  and  other  illustrious  Romanists  whose 
liberal  natures  and  wide  range  of  study  had  led  them  to  sanction  more  than 
one  of  the  Lutheran  dogmas  which  were  subsequently  proscribed  by  the 
Council  of  Trent.  One  charge  strongly  urged  against  the  primate  was  his 
assent  to  the  heretical  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.  In  support  of  this, 
Father  Regla,  the  confessor,  as  the  reader  may  remember,  of  Charles  the  Fifth, 
and  a  worthy  coadjutor  of  Valdes,  quoted  words  of  consolation  employed  by 
Carranza,  in  his  presence,  at  the  death-bed  of  the  emperor.** 

The  exalted  rank  of  the  accused  made  it  necessary  for  his  enemies  to  pro- 
ceed with  the  greatest  caution.  Never  had  the  bloodhounds  of  the  Inquisition 
been  set  on  So  noble  a  quarry.  Confident  in  his  own  authority,  the  prelate 
had  little  reason  for  distrust.  He  could  not  ward  off  the  blow,  for  it  was  an 
invisible  arm  stronger  than  his  own  that  was  raised  to  smite  him.  On  the 
twenty-second  of  August,  1559,  the  emissaries  of  the  Holy  Office  entered  the 
primate's  town  of  Torrelaguna.  The  doors  of  the  episcopal  palace  were  thrown 
oj»en  to  the  ministers  of  the  terrible  tribunal.  The  prelate  was  dragged  from 
his  bed  at  midnight,  was  hurried  into  a  coach,  and,  while  the  inhabitants  were 
ordered  not  so  nmch  as  to  present  themselves  at  the  windows,  he  was  conducted, 
under  a  strong  guard,  to  the  prisons  of  the  Inquisition  at  Valladolid.  The 
arrest  of  such  a  person  caused  a  great  sensation  throughout  the  country,  but 
no  attempt  was  made  at  a  rescue. 

"  Balacar,  VMado  Carrnnrn  (Ma.lrlcl,  1788),  3«9,  et  f&\.— Llorcnte.  Inquisition  d'E«pagno, 
cap.  l-ii. — Documents  In&litofl,  torn.  v.  p.  torn.  II.  p.  163,  torn.  III.  p.  183,  ct  srq. 


174  PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN. 

The  primate  would  have  appealed  from  the  Holy  Office  to  the  pope,  as  the 
only  power  competent  to  judge  him.  But  he  was  unwilling  to  give  umbrage 
to  Philip,  who  had  told  him  in  any  extremity  to  rely  on  him.  The  king,  how- 
ever, was  still  in  the  Netherlands,  where  his  mind  had  been  preoccupied, 
through  the  archbishop's  enemies,  with  rumours  of  his  defection.  Ana  the 
mere  imputation  of  heresy,  in  this  dangerous  crisis,  and  especially  in  one  whom 
he  had  so  recently  raisea  to  the  highest  post  in  the  Spanish  church,  was 
enough  not  only  to  efface  the  recollection  of  past  services  from  the  mind  of 
Philip,  but  to  turn  his  favour  into  aversion.  For  two  years  Carranza  was 
suffered  to  languish  in  confinement,  exposed  to  all  the  annoyances  which  the 
malice  of  his  enemies  could  devise.  So  completely  was  he  dead  to  the  world 
that  he  knew  nothing  of  a  conflagration  which  consumed  more  than  four 
hundred  of  the  principal  houses  m  Valladolid,  till  some  years  after  the 
occurrence.14 

At  length  the  Council  of  Trent,  sharing  the  indignation  of  the  rest  of 
Christendom  at  the  archbishop's  protracted  imprisonment,  called  on  Philip  to 
interpose  in  his  behalf  and  to  remove  the  cause  to  another  tribunal.  But  the 
king  gave  little  heed  to  the  remonstrance,  which  the  inquisitors  treated  as  a 
presumptuous  interference  with  their  authority. 

In  1566,  Pius  the  Fifth  ascended  the  pontifical  throne.  He  was  a  man  of 
austere  morals  and  a  most  inflexible  will.  A  Dominican,  like  Carranza,  he  was 
greatly  scandalized  by  the  treatment  which  the  primate  had  received,  and  by 
the  shameful  length  to  which  his  process  had  been  protracted.  He  at  once 
sent  his  orders  to  Spain  for  the  removal  of  the  grand  inquisitor,  Valdes,  from 
office,  summoning,  at  the  same  time,  the  cause  and  the  prisoner  before  his  own 
tribunal.  The  bold  inquisitor,  loath  to  lose  his  prey,  would  have  defied  the 
power  of  Rome,  as  he  had  done  that  of  the  Council  of  Trent.  Philip  remon- 
strated ;  but  Pius  was  firm,  and  menaced  both  king  and  inquisitor  with  ex- 
communication. Philip  had  no  mind  for  a  second  collision  with  the  papal 
court.  In  imagination  he  already  heard  the  thunders  of  the  Vatican  rolling 
in  the  distance  and  threatening  soon  to  break  upon  his  head.  After  a  con- 
finement of  now  more  than  seven  years'  duration,  the  archbishop  was  sent 
under  a  guard  to  Rome.  He  was  kindly  received  by  the  pontiff,  and  honour- 
ably lodged  in  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,  in  apartments  formerly  occupied  by 
the  popes  themselves.  But  he  was  still  a  prisoner. 

Pius  now  set  seriously  about  the  examination  of  Carranza's  process.  It  was 
a  tedious  business,  requiring  his  holiness  to  wade  through  an  ocean  of  papers, 
while  the  progress  of  the  suit  was  perpetually  impeded  by  embarrassments 
thrown  in  nis  way  by  the  industrious  malice  of  the  inquisitors.  At  the  end 
of  six  years  more,  Pius  was  preparing  to  give  his  judgment,  which  it  was 
understood  would  be  favourable  to  Carranza,  when,  unhappily  for  the  primate, 
thepontiff  died. 

The  Holy  Office,  stung  by  the  prospect  of  its  failure,  now  strained  every 
nerve  to  influence  the  mind  of  the  new  pope,  Gregory  the  Thirteenth,  to  a 
contrary  decision.  New  testimony  was  collected,  new  glosses  were  put  on  the 
primate's  text,  and  the  sanction  of  the  most  learned  Spanish  theologians  was 
brought  in  support  of  them.  At  length,  at  the  end  of  three  years  further, 
the  holy  father  announced  his  purpose  of  giving  his  final  decision.  It  was 
done  with  great  circumstance.  The  pope  was  seated  on  his  pontifical  throne, 
surrounded  by  all  his  cardinals,  prelates,  and  functionaries  of  the  apostolic 

*•  "  En  que  se  quemaron  mas  de  400  casas  Arzobispo,  pero  ni  lo  supo  hasta  mtichos  afios 
principales,  y  ricas,  y  algunas  en  aquel  barrio  despues  dc  estar  en  Koma."  Salazur,  Vida 
donde  el  estaba ;  no  solo  no  lo  entendio  el  de  Carranza,  cap.  15. 


PROSECUTION  OF  CARRANZA.  175 

chamber.  Before  this  august  assembly  the  archbishop  presented  himself 
unsupported  and  alone,  while  no  one  ventured  to  salute  mm.  His  head  was 
bare.  His  once  robust  form  was  bent  by  infirmity  more  than  by  years  ;  and 
his  care-worn  features  told  of  that  sickness  whicn  arises  from  hope  deferred. 
He  knelt  down  at  some  distance  from  the  pope,  and  in  this  humble  attitude 
received  his  sentence. 

He  was  declared  to  have  imbibed  the  pernicious  doctrines  of  Luther.  The 
decree  of  the  Inquisition  prohibiting  the  use  of  his  catechism  was  confirmed. 
He  was  to  abjure  sixteen  propositions  found  in  his  writings ;  was  suspended 
from  the  exercise  of  his  episcopal  functions  for  five  years,  during  which  time 
he  was  to  be  confined  in  a  convent  of  his  order  at  Orvieto  ;  and,  finally,  he 
was  required  to  visit  seven  of  the  principal  churches  in  Rome  and  perform 
mass  there  by  way  of  penance. 

This  was  the  end  of  eighteen  years  of  doubt,  anxiety,  and  imprisonment. 
The  tears  streamed  down  the  face  of  the  unhappy  man,  as  he  listened  to  the 
sentence  ;  but  he  bowed  in  silent  submission  to  the  will  of  his  superior.  The 
very  next  day  he  began  his  work  of  penance.  But  nature  could  go  no  further ; 
ana  on  the  second  of  May,  only  sixteen  days  after  his  sentence  had  been  pro- 
nounced, Carranza  died  of  a  broken  heart.  The  triumph  of  the  Inquisition 
was  complete. 

The  pope  raised  a  monument  to  the  memory  of  the  primate,  with  a  pompous 
inscription,  paying  a  just  tribute  to  his  talents  and  his  scholarship,  endowing 
him  with  a  full  measure  of  Christian  worth,  and  particularly  commending  the 
exemplary  manner  in  which  he  had  discharged  the  high  trusts  reposed  in  him 
by  his  sovereign.** 

Such  is  the  story  of  Carranza's  persecution, — considering  the  rank  of  the 
party,  the  unprecedented  length  of  the  process,  and  the  sensation  it  excited 
throughout  Europe,  altogether  the  most  remarkable  on  the  records  of  the 
Inquisition.*'  Our  sympathy  for  the  archbishop's  sufferings  may  be  reasonably 
mitigated  by  the  reflection  that  he  did  but  receive  the  measure  which  he  had 
meted  out  to  others.* 

While  the  prosecution  of  Carranza  was  going  on,  the  fires  lighted  for  the 
Protestants  continued  to  burn  with  fury  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  until  at 
length  they  gradually  slackened  and  died  away,  from  mere  want  of  fuel  to 
feed  them.  The  year  1570  may  be  regarded  as  the  period  of  the  last  auto  de 

"  Salazar,  Vida  de  Cirranza,  cap.  12-35. —  legal  documents   growing    out  of  the   pro- 

Documentos  ineditos,  torn.  v.  pp.  453-463. —  traded  prosecution,  amounted,  as  he  assures 

Llorentc,  Inquisition  d'Espagne,  torn.  iii.  p.  us,  to  no  less  than  twenty-six  thousand  leaves 

218,  et  seq.  of  manuscript.     This  enormous  mans  of  lesti- 

"  The  persecution  of  Carranza  has  occu-  mony  leads  one  to  suspect  that  tin-  object  of 

pied  the  pens  of  several  Cutillan   writers.  the   Inquisition   was  not  so  much  to  detect 

The  most  ample  biographical  notice  of  him  the  truth  as  to  cover  it  up.     The   learned 

Is  by  the  Doctor  Salazar  de  Miranda,  who  editors  of  the  "  Docuroentos  ineditos  "  have 

derived  his  careful  and  trustworthy  narrative  profited  by  both  these  works,  as  well  as  by 

from  the  beet  original  sources.     Llorente  had  some  unpublished  manuscripts  of  that  day. 

the  advantage  of  access   to  the  voluminous  relating  to  the  affair,  to  exhibit  it  fully  and 

records  of  the  Holy  Office,  of  which  he  was  fairly  to  the  Castilian   reader,  who  in  this 

the  secretary ;  and  in   his  third  volume  he  brief  history  may  learn  the  value  of  the  in- 

has  devoted  a  large  space  to  the  process  of  st  ituti  ms  under  which  bis  fathers  lived. 
Carranza,   which,   with  the   whole   mass  of 


•  [There  is.  however,  this  distinction  to  be  only  that  he  should  abjure  certain  proposi- 

ni.nl'  :  the   Protestants  were  condemn-d  for  tions  which  b«  was  "  vuspected  "  of  holding, 

holding  opinions  which  they  professed  and  The  persecution  he  underwent  was  the  work. 

plortcd   in  ;  while  Curranz*  WAS  accused  of  not  of  fanaticism,  but  of  personal  enmity  and 

promulgating  doctrines  which  he  disavowed  intrigue.— ED.] 
and  repudiated.    The  papal  sentence  ordered 


176  PROTESTANTISM  IN  SPAIN. 

fe  in  which  the  Lutherans  played  a  conspicuous  part.  The  subsequent  cele- 
brations were  devoted  chiefly  to  relapsed  Jews  and  Mahometans ;  and  if  a 
Protestant  heretic  was  sometimes  added  to  this  list,  it  was  "  but  as  the  glean- 
ing of  grapes  after  the  vintage  is  done."  *7 

Never  was  there  a  persecution  which  did  its  work  more  thoroughly.  The 
blood  of  the  martyr  is  commonly  said  to  be  the  seed  of  the  church.  But  the 
storm  of  persecution  fell  as  heavily  on  the  Spanish  Protestants  as  it  did  on 
the  Albigenses  in  the  thirteenth  century,  blighting  every  living  thing,  so  that 
no  germ  remained  for  future  harvests.  Spain  might  now  boast  that  the  stain 
of  heresy  no  longer  defiled  the  hem  of  her  garment.  But  at  what  a  price  was 
this  purchased !  Not  merely  by  the  sacrifice  of  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  a 
few  thousands  of  the  existing  generation,  but  by  the  disastrous  consequences 
entailed  for  ever  on  the  country.  Folded  under  the  dark  wing  of  the  Inqui- 
sition, Spain  was  shut  out  from  the  light  which  in  the  sixteenth  century 
broke  over  the  rest  of  Europe,  stimulating  the  nations  to  greater  enterprise  in 
every  department  of  knowledge.  The  genius  of  the  people  was  rebuked,  and 
their  spirit  quenched,  under  the  malignant  influence  of  an  eye  that  never 
slumbered,  of  an  unseen  arm  ever  raised  to  strike.  How  could  there  be 
freedom  of  thought,  where  there  was  no  freedom  of  utterance  ?  Or  freedom 
of  utterance,  where  it  was  as  dangerous  to  say  too  little  as  too  much? 
Freedom  cannot  go  along  with  fear.  Every  way  the  mind  of  the  Spaniard 
was  in  fetters. 

His  moral  sense  was  miserably  perverted.  Men  were  judged,  not  by  their 
practice,  but  by  their  professions.  Creed  became  a  substitute  for  conduct. 
Difference  of  faith  made  a  wider  gulf  of  separation  than  difference  of  race, 
language,  or  even  interest.  Spain  no  longer  formed  one  of  the  great  brother- 
hood of  Christian  nations.  An  immeasurable  barrier  was  raised  between  that 
kingdom  and  the  Protestant  states  of  Europe.  The  early  condition  of  per- 
petual warfare  with  the  Arabs  who  overran  the  country  had  led  the  Spaniards 
to  mingle  religion  strangely  with  their  politics.  The  effect  continued  when 
the  cause  had  ceased.  Their  wars  with  the  European  nations  became  religious 
wars.  In  fighting  England  or  the  Netherlands,  they  were  fighting  the 
enemies  of  God.  It  was  the  same  everywhere.  In  their  contest  with  the 
unoffending  natives  of  the  New  World  they  were  still  battling  with  the  enemies 
of  God.  Their  wars  took  the  character  01  a  perpetual  crusade,  and  were  con- 
ducted with  all  the  ferocity  which  fanaticism  could  inspire. 

The  same  dark  spirit  of  fanaticism  seems  to  brood  over  the  nationaLJitera- 
ture, — even  that  lighter  literature  which  in  other  nations  is  made  up  of  the 
festive  sallies  of  wit  or  the  tender  expression  of  sentiment.-'T'he  greatest 
geniuses  of  the  nation,  the  masters  of  the  drama  and  of  the  ode,  while  they 
astonish  us  by  their  miracles  of  invention,  show  that  they  have  too  often 
kindled  their  inspiration  at  the  altars  of  the  Inquisition. 

Debarred  as  he  was  from  freedom  of  speculation,  the  domain  of  science  was 
closed  against  the  Spaniard.  Science  looks  to  perpetual  change.  It  turns  to 
the  past  to  gather  warning,  as  well  as  instruction,  for  the  future.  Its  province 
is  to  remove  old  abuses,  to  explode  old  errors,  to  unfold  new  truths.  Its  con- 
dition, in  short,  is  that  of  progress.  But  in  Spain,  everything  not  only  looked 
to  the  past,  but  rested  on  the  past.  Old  abuses  gathered  respect  from  their 

27  So  says  McCrie,  whose  volume  on  the  recondite  materials ;  but  he  has  profited  well 

Reformation  in  Spain  presents  in  a  reason-  by  those  at  bis  command,  comprehending  the 

able  compass  a  very  accurate  view  of  that  best  published  works,  and  has  digested  them 

interesting  movement.     The  historian  does  into  a  narrative  distinguished  for  its  tcm- 

not  appear  to  have  had  access  to  any  rare  or  perance  and  truth. 


ISABELLA  ARRIVES  IN  SPAIN.  177 

antiquity.  Reform  was  innovation,  and  innovation  was  a  crime.  Far  from 
progress,  all  was  stationary.  The  hand  of  the  Inquisition  drew  the  line  which 
said.  "  JN'o  further  ! "  This  was  the  limit  of  human  intelligence  in  Spain. 

The  effect  was  visible  in  every  department  of  science, — not  in  the  specula- 
tive alone,  but  in  the  physical  and  the  practical ;  in  the  declamatory  rant  of 
its  theology  and  ethics,  in  the  childish  and  chimerical  schemes  of  its  political 
economists.  In  every  walk  were  to  be  seen  the  symptoms  of  premature 
decrepitude,  as  the  nation  clung  to  the  antiquated  systems  which  the  march 
of  civilization  in  other  countries  had  long  since  eflaced.  Hence  those  frantic 
experiments,  so  often  repeated,  in  the  financial  administration  of  the  kingdom, 
which  made  Spain  the  byword  of  the  nations,  and  which  ended  in  the  ruin  of 
trade,  the  prostration  of  credit,  and  finally  the  bankruptcy  of  the  state.  But 
we  willingly  turn  from  this  sad  picture  of  the  destinies  of  the  country  to  a 
more  cheerful  scene  in  the  history  of  Philip. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PHILIP'S  THIRD  MABBIAOB. 

Reception  of  Isabella— Marriage  Festivities— The  Queen's  Mode  of  Life— The  Court 
removed  to  Madrid. 

1560. 

So  soon  as  Philip  should  be  settled  in  Spain,  it  had  been  arranged  that  his 
young  bride,  Elizabeth  of  France,  should  cross  the  Pyrenees.  Early  in  Janu- 
ary, 1560.  Elizabeth, — or  Isabella,  to  use  the  corresponding  name  by*which 
she  was  known  to  the  Spaniards, — under  the  protection  of  the  Cardinal  de 
Bourbon  and  some  of  the  French  nobility,  reached  the  borders  of  Navarre, 
where  she  was  met  by  the  duke  of  Infantado,  who  was  to  take  charge  of  the 
princess  and  escort  her  to  Castile. 

Inigo  Lopez  de  Mendoza,  fourth  duke  of  Infantado,  was  the  head  of  the 
most  illustrious  house  in  Castile.  He  was  at  this  time  near  seventy  years  of 
age,  having  passed  most  of  his  life  in  attendance  at  court,  where  he  had 
always  "occupied  the  position  suited  to  his  hi^h  birth  and  his  extensive  property, 
which,  as  his  title  intimated,  lay  chiefly  in  the  north.  J  rV  was  a  fine  specimen 
of  the  old  Castilian  hidalgo,  and  displayed  a  magnificence  in  his  way  of  living 
that  Keratin-  his  station.  He  was  well  educated,  for  the  time ;  and  his  fond- 
ness for  books  did  not  prevent  his  excelling  in  all  knightly  exercises.  He 
was  Raid  to  have  the  best  library  and  the  best  stud  of  any  gentleman  in 
Castile.1 

He  appeared  on  this  occasion  in  great  state,  accompanied  by  his  household 
and  his  kinsmen,  the  heads  of  the  noblest  families  in  Spain.  The  duke  was 
attended  by  some  fifty  pages,  who,  in  their  rich  dresses  of  satin  and  brocade, 
displayed  the  gay  colours  of  the  house  of  Mendoza.  The  nobles  in  his  train, 
all  suitably  mounted,  were  followed  by  twenty-five  hundred  gentlemen,  well 

'  A  full  account  of  this  duke  of  Infantado  the  Castilian  aristocracy,  which  he  brings 
It  to  be  found  iu  the  extremely  rare  work  of  down  to  1&&6,  B  peaks  of  the  dukes  of  Infan- 
Nuftei  de  Caatro,  Hintoria  rccleitiaiitica  y  Udu  as  having  a  body-guard  of  two  hundred 
•eglar  do  Guadalajara  (Madrid,  1653),  p.  18U,  men,  and  of  being  able  to  muster  a  force  of 
et  «eq.  Oviedo,  In  his  curious  volumes  on  thirty  thousand !  Qulncuageuas,  MS. 

N 


178  PHILIP'S  THIRD  MARRIAGE. 

equipped,  like  themselves.  So  lavish  were  the  Castilians  of  that  day  in  the 
caparisons  of  their  horses  that  some  of  these  are  estimated,  without  taking 
into  account  the  jewels  with  which  they  were  garnished,  to  have  cost  no  less 
than  two  thousand  ducats  !  *  The  same  taste  is  visible  at  this  day  in  their 
descendants,  especially  in  South  America  and  in  Mexico,  where  the  love  of 
barbaric  ornament  in  the  housings  and  caparisons  of  their  steeds  is  con- 
spicuous among  all  classes  of  the  people. 

Several  days  were  spent  in  settling  the  etiquette  to  be  observed  before  the 
presentation  of  the  duke  and  his  followers  to  the  princess,— a  perilous  matter 
with  the  Spanish  hidalgo.  When  at  length  the  interview  took  place,  the 
cardinal  of  JBurgos,  the  duke's  brother,  opened  it  by  a  formal  and  rather  long 
address  to  Isabella,  who  replied  in  a  tone  of  easy  gayety,  which,  though  not 
undignified,  savoured  much  more  of  the  manners  of  her  own  country  than  of 
those  of  Spain.*  The  place  of  meeting  was  at  Roncesvalles,— a  name  which 
to  the  reader  of  romance  may  call  up  scenes  very  different  from  those  presented 
by  the  two  nations  now  met  together  in  kindly  courtesy.* 

From  Roncesvalles  the  princess  proceeded,  under  the  strong  escort  of  the 
duke,  to  his  town  of  Guadalajara  in  New  Castile,  where  her  marriage  with 
King  Philip  was  to  be  solemnized.  Great  preparations  were  made  by  the 
loyal  citizens  for  celebrating  the  event  in  a  manner  honourable  to  then-  own 
master  and  their  future  queen.  A  huge  mound,  or  what  might  be  called  a 
hill,  was  raised  at  the  entrance  of  the  town,  where  a  grove  of  natural  oaks 
had  been  transplanted,  among  which  was  to  be  seen  abundance  of  game. 
Isabella  was  received  by  the  magistrates  of  the  place,  and  escorted  through 
the  principal  streets  by  a  brilliant  cavalcade,  composed  of  the  great  nobility 
of  the  court.  She  was  dressed  in  ermine,  and  rode  a  milk-white  palfrey, 
which  she  managed  with  an  easy  grace  that  delighted  the  multitude.  On  one 
side  of  her  rode  the  duke  of  Infantado,  and  on  the  other  the  cardinal  of 
Burgos.  After  performing  her  devotions  at  the  church,  where  Te  Deum  was 
chanted,  she  proceeded  to  the  ducal  palace,  in  which  the  marriage-ceremony 
was  to  be  performed.  On  her  entering  the  court,  the  Princess  Joanna  came 
down  to  receive  her  sister-in-law,  and,  after  an  affectionate  salutation,  con- 
ducted her  to  the  saloon,  where  Philip,  attended  by  his  son,  was  awaiting  his 
bride.* 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Isabella  had  seen  her  destined  lord.  She  now 
gazed  on  him  so  intently  that  he  gopd-humouredly  asked  her  "  if  she  were 
looking  to  see  if  he  had  any  gray  hairs  in  his  head."  The  bluntness  of  the 
question  somewhat  disconcerted  her.6  Philip's  age  was  not  much  less  than 
that  at  which  the  first  gray  hairs  made  their  appearance  on  his  father's 
temples.  Yet  the  discrepancy  between  the  ages  of  the  parties  in  the  present 

*  "  A  via  gnaldrapas  de  dos  mil  ducados  de  '  Lncio  Marineo,  in  his  curious  farrago  of 
costa  sin  conputar   valor  de   piedras."    Ca-        notable  matters,  speaks  of  the  sumptuous 
brera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  v.  cap.  7.                        residence  of  the  dukes  of  Infantado  in  Gua- 

1  "  Elle  re"pondit  d'un  air  riant,  et  avec  des  dalajara :  "  Los  muy  magnificos  y  sumpti- 

termes  pleins  tout  ensemble  de  douceur  et  de  cosos  pal.icios  que  alii  esian  de  los  muy  ilhm- 

majeste."     De  Thou,  torn.  iii.  p.  426.  tres  duques  de  la  casa  muy  antigua  de  los 

*  We  have  a  minute  account  of  this  inter-  Mendocas."    Cosas  m>  morables,  fol.  13. 
view  from  the  pens  of  two  of  Isabella's  train,  •  "  J'ay  ony  center  a  une  de  ses  dames  que 
who  accompanied  her  to  Castile,  and  whose  la  premiere  fois  qu'elle  vist  son  mary,  elle  se 
letters  to  the  cardinal  of  Lorraine  are  to  be  mil  a  le  contempler  si  fixement,  que  le  Roy, 
found  in  the  valuable  collection  of  historical  ne  le  trouvant  pas  bon,  luy  demanda:  Que 
documents    the    publication   of   wHch    was  mirais,  ti  tengo   canatf  c'eft-a-dire,  'Que 
begun  under  the  auspices  of  Louis  Philippe.  regardez-vons,  si  j'ai  les  cheveux  blancs?' 
Documents  inedits  sur  1'Histoire  de  France,  Ces  mots  luy  toucherent  si  fort  au  coenr  qne 
Negoriations,    etc.,    relatives  au    Regne   de  drpuis  on  angura  mal  pour  elle."    Brantume, 
Frar>9ois  II.,  p.  171,  et  seq.  CEuvres,  torn.  v.  p.  131. 


MARRIAGE  FESTIVITIES.  179 

instance  was  not  greater  than  often  happens  in  a  royal  union.  Isabella  was 
in  her  fifteenth  year,1  and  Philip  in  his  thirty-fourth. 

From  all  accounts,  the  lady's  youth  was  her  least  recommendation.  "  Eliza- 
beth de  Valois,"  says  Brantome,  who  knew  her  well,  "  was  a  true  daughter  of 
France, — discreet,  witty,  beautiful,  and  good,  if  ever  woman  was  so.  *  She 
was  well  made,  and  tall  of  stature,  and  on  this  account  the  more  admired  in 
Spain,  where  the  women  are  rarely  above  the  middle  height.  Her  eyes  were 
dark,  and  her  luxuriant  tresses,  of  the  same  dark  colour,  shaded  features  that 
were  delicately  fair.'  There  was  sweetness  mingled  with  dignity  in  her 
deportment,  in  which  Castilian  stateliness  seemed  to  be  happily  tempered  by 
the  vivacity  of  her  own  nation.  "So  attractive  was  she,"  continues  the 
gallant  old  courtier,  "  that  no  cavalier  durst  look  on  her  long,  for  fear  of  losing 
his  heart,  which  in  that  jealous  court  might  have  proved  the  loss  of  his 
life." 10 

Some  of  the  chroniclers  notice  a  shade  of  melancholy  as  visible  on  Isabella's 
features,  which  they  refer  to  the  comparison  the  young  bride  was  naturally 
led  to  make  between  her  own  lord  and  his  son,  the  prince  of  Asturias,  for 
whom  her  hand  had  been  originally  intended.11  But  the  daughter  of  Catherine 
de  Medicis,  they  are  careful  to  add,  had  been  too  well  trained,  from  her  cradle, 
not  to  know  how  to  disguise  her  feelings.  Don  Carlos  haa  one  advantage 
over  his  father,  in  his  youth ;  though  in  this  respect,  since  he  was  but  a  boy 
of  fourteen,  he  might  be  thought  to  fall  as  much  too  short  of  the  suitable  age 
as  the  king  exceeded  it.  It  is  also  intimated  by  the  same  gossiping  writers 
that  from  this  hour  of  their  meeting,  touched  by  the  charms  of  his  step- 
mother, the  prince  nourished  a  secret  feeling  of  resentment  against  his  father, 
who  had  thus  come  between  him  and  his  beautiful  betrothed.1*  It  is  this 
light  gossip  of  the  chroniclers  that  has  furnished  the  romancers  of  later  ages 
with  the  flimsy  materials  for  that  web  of  fiction  which  displays  in  such  glowing 
colours  the  loves  of  Carlos  and  Isabella.  I  shall  have  occasion  to  return  to 
this  subject  when  treating  of  the  fate  of  this  unhappy  prince. 

When  the  nuptials  were  concluded,  the  good  people  of  Guadalajara  testified 
their  loyalty  by  all  kinds  of  festivities  in  honour  of  the  event, — by  fireworks, 
music,  and  dancing.  The  fountains  flowed  with  generous  liquor.  Tables  were 
spread  in  the  public  squares,  laden  with  good  cheer,  and  freely  open  to  all.  In 

'  In  this  statement  I  conform  to  Sixmondi's  au  roy  Ron   mary,  ft  par   consequent   eax 

account.    In  the  present  instance,  however,  courir  fortune  de  la  vie.       Ibid.,  p.  128. 

there  U  even  more  uncertainly  than  la  usual  "  "La  regina  irtesfa  parue  non  so  come 

tn  regard  to  a  lady's  age.     According  to  Ca-  sorpressa  da  vn   eentimento  dt   malincunica 

brera,  Isabella  w.,«  eighteen  at  the  time  of  passione,  iiel  vederni  abbracciare  da  vn  re  dl 

ber  marriage;   while    l)e  Thou  makes  her  33  anni,  di  garbo  ordinario  alia  pres<-nza  d' 

only  eleven  when  the  terms  of  the  alliance  vn  giouine  prenclpe  molto  ben  fatto,  e  che 

were  arranged  by  the  commissioner*  at  Ca-  prima  dell'   altro   1'  era  stato  promesso  ia 

teau-Cambresls.     These    are    the    extremes,  aposo."    Lett,  Vila  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  1.  p. 

but  within  them  there  is  no  agreement  among  345. 

the  authorities  I  have  consulted.  "  BrantAmo,    who  was  certainly  one   of 

•  "Elizabeth  de  France,  et  vraye  fille  de  those  who  lielieved  in  the  jealousy  of  Philip, 
France,  en  tout  belle,  sage,  vertueuse,  spiritu-  if  not  In  the  passion  of  Isabella,  states  the 
elle  <  t  bonne,  s'il  en  fust  oncques."     Hi  an-  circumstance  of  the  king's  supplanting  his 
tome,  (Envres,  torn.  v.  p.  126.  son  in  a  manner  sufficiently  naive:  ••  Mais  lo 

•  "Son  visage  estoit  beau,  et  ses  chevcnx  roy  d'Kspagne  son  pcre,  vcnant  a  estre  veuf 
et  yeux  noirs,  qui  adombroient  son  teint.  .  .  .  par  le  trespas  de  la  reyne  d'Angleterre  sa 
Sa  taille  estoit  tres  belle,  et  plus  grande  que  fcmme  et  sa  cousine  germaine.  syant  vru  le 
toutes  ses  soeurs,  qui  la  rendoit  fort  admirable  pourtraict  de  madamc  Elizabeth,  et  la  trou- 
en  Espagne,  d'nutant  que  le*  tallies  hautes  y  vant  fort  belle  et  fort  a  .-mi  gre,  en  coup* 
•out  rarvs,  et  pour  ce  fort  ei-timables."    Ibid.,  1'herbe  soiibs  le  pied  a  son  fils,  et  la  prit  pour 
p.  128.  luy,  ctiiiiin.  ncHiit  cette  charitc  a  soy  mesme." 

'*  "  Lee  seigneur*  n«  l'ow>lent  regsrder  de        CEuvres,  torn.  v.  p.  127. 
peur  d'en  estre  espris,  et  en  causer  jalousie 


180  PHILIP'S  THIRD  MARRIAGE. 

the  evening,  the  reyidores  of  the  town,  to  the  number  of  fifty  or  more,  pre- 
sented themselves  before  the  king  and  queen.  They  were  dressed  in  their 
gaudy  liveries  of  crimson  and  yellow  velvet,  and  each  one  of  these  functionaries 
bore  a  napkin  on  his  arm,  while  he  carried  a  plate  of  sweetmeats,  which  he 
presented  to  the  royal  pair  and  the  ladies  of  the  court.  The  following  morn- 
ing Philip  and  his  consort  left  the  hospitable  walls  of  Guadalajara  and  set  out 
with  their  whole  suite  for  Toledo.  At  parting,  the  duke  of  Infantado  made 
the  queen  and  her  ladies  presents  of  jewels,  lace,  and  other  rich  articles  of 
dress  ;  and  the  sovereigns  took  leave  of  their  noble  host,  well  pleased  with  the 
princely  entertainment  he  had  given  them.1* 

At  Toledo,  preparations  were  made  for  the  reception  of  Philip  and  Isabella 
in  a  style  worthy  of  the  renown  of  that  ancient  capital  of  the  Visigoths.  In 
the  broad  vega  before  the  city,  three  thousand  of  the  old  Spanish  infantry 
engaged  in  a  mock  encounter  with  a  body  of  Moorish  cavalry  having  their 
uniforms  and  caparisons  fancifully  trimmed  and  ornamented  in  the  Arabesque 
fashion.  Then  followed  various  national  dances  by  beautiful  maidens  of 
Toledo,  dances  of  the  Gypsies,  and  the  old  Spanish  "war-dance  of  the 
swords."1* 

On  entering  the  gates,  the  royal  pair  were  welcomed  by  the  municipality  of 
the  city,  who  supported  a  canopy  of  cloth  of  gold  over  the  heads  of  the  king 
and  queen,  emblazoned  with  their  ciphers.  A  procession  was  formed,  consist- 
ing of  the  principal  magistrates,  the  members  of  the  military  orders,  the 
officers  of  the  Inquisition, — for  Toledo  was  one  of  the  principal  stations  of  the 
secret  tribunal, — and,  lastly,  the  chief  nobles  of  the  court.  In  the  cavalcade 
might  be  discerned  the  iron  form  of  the  duke  of  Alva,  and  his  more  courtly 
rival,  Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva,  count  of  Melito, — the  two  nobles  highest  in  the 
royal  confidence.  Triumphal  arches,  ornamented  with  quaint  devices  and 
emblematical  figures  from  ancient  mythology,  were  thrown  across  the  streets, 
which  were  filled  with  shouting  multitudes.  Gay  wreaths  of  flowers  and 
flaunting  streamers  adorned  the  verandas  and  balconies,  which  were  crowded 
with  spectators  of  both  sexes  in  their  holiday  attire,  making  a  show  of  gaudy 
colours  that  reminds  an  old  chronicler  of  the  richly-tinted  tapestries  and 
carpetings  of  Flanders.15  In  this  royal  state  the  new-married  pair  moved 
along  the  streets  towards  the  great  cathedral ;  and  after  paying  their  devotions 
at  its  venerable  shrine  they  repaired  to  the  alcazar, — the  palace-fortress  of 
Toledo. 

For  some  weeks,  during  which  the  sovereigns  remained  in  the  capital,  there 
was  a  general  jubilee.16  All  the  national  games  of  Spain  were  exhibited  to 

13  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  v.  cap.  6. —  "  The  royal  nuptials  were  commemorated 
Florez,   Reynas  Catholicas,  p.   897. — "A  la  in  a  Latin  poem,  in  two  books,  "  De  Pace  et 
dcspedida  present^  el  Duque  del  Ynfantado  Nuptiis  Philippi  et  Isabella;."    It  was  the 
al  Key,  Reyna,  Damas,  DueBas  de  honor,  y  work  of  Fernando  Kuiz  de  Villegas,  an  emi- 
&  las  de  la  C&mara  ricas  joyas  de  oro  y  plata,  nent  scholar  of  that  day,  whose  writings  did 
telas,  puantes,  y  otras  preseas  tan  ricas,  por  not  make  their  appearance  in  print  till  nearly 
la  prolixidad  del  arte,  como  por  lo  precioso  two  centuries  later, — and  then  not  in  his  own 
de  la  materia."    De  Castro  Hist,  de  Guada-  land,  but  in  Italy.     In  this  epithalamium,  if 
lajiira,  p.  116.  it  may  he  so  called,  the  poet  represents  Juno 

14  "Dangas  de  hermosisimas  donzellas  de  as  invoking  Jupiter  to  interfere  in  behalf  of 
la  Sapra,  i  las  de  espadas  antigna  invencion  the   French  monarchy,   that  it  may  not  be 
de  Espafioles."    Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  crushed  by  the  arms  of  Spain.    Venus,  under 
v.  cap.  6.  the  form  of  the  duke  of  Alva, — as  effectual  a 

"  "  Por  la  mucba  hermosura  que  avia  en  disguise  as  could   be  imagined, — takes  her 

las  damas  de  la  ciudad  i  Cone,  el  adorno  de  seat  in  the  royal  council,  and  implores  Philip 

IOB  rairadores  i  calles,  las  libreas  co.-tosas  i  to  admit  France  to  ternie,  and  to  accept  the 

varias  i  muchas,  que  todo  bazia  un  florido  band  of  Isabella  as  the  pledge  of  peace  be- 

campo   o   lieiigo  de   Fiandres."    Ibid.,    ubl  tween  the  nations.   Philip  graciously  relents ; 

supra,  peace  is  proclaimed ;  the  marriage-  between  the 


MARRIAGE  FESTIVITIES.  181 

the  young  queen ;  the  bull-fight,  the  Moorish  sport  of  the  canas,  or  tilt  of 
reeds,  and  tournaments  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  in  both  of  which  Philip  often 
showed  himself  armed  cap-a-pie  in  the  lists  and  did  his  devoir  in  the  presence 
of  his  fair  bride,  as  became  a  loyal  knight.  Another  show,  which  might  have 
been  better  reserved  for  a  less  joyous  occasion,  was  exhibited  to  Isabella.  As 
the  court  and  the  cortes  were  drawn  together  in  Toledo,  the  Holy  Office  took 
the  occasion  to  celebrate  an  auto  defe",  which,  from  the  number  of  the  victims 
and  quality  of  the  spectators,  was  the  most  imposing  spectacle  of  the  kind  ever 
witnessed  in  that  capital. 

No  country  in  Europe  has  so  distinct  an  individuality  as  Spain  ;  shown  not 
merely  in  the  character  of  the  inhabitants,  but  in  the  smallest  details  of  life, — 
in  their  national  games,  their  dress,  their  social  usages.  The  tenacity  with 
which  the  people  have  clung  to  these  amidst  all  the  changes  of  dynasties  and 
laws  is  truly  admirable.  Separated  by  their  mountain -barrier  from  the  central 
and  eastern  parts  of  Europe,  and  during  the  greater  part  of  their  existence 
brought  into  contact  with  Oriental  forms  of  civilization,  the  Spaniards  have 
been  but  little  exposed  to  those  influences  which  have  given  a  homogeneous 
complexion  to  the  other  nations  of  Christendom.  The  system  under  which 
they  have  been  trained  is  too  peculiar  to  be  much  affected  by  these  influences, 
and  the  ideas  transmitted  from  their  ancestors  are  too  deeply  settled  in  their 
minds  to  be  easily  disturbed.  The  present  in  Spain  is  but  the  mirror  of  the 
past.  In  other  countries  fashions  become  antiquated,  old  errors  exploded, 
early  tastes  reformed.  Not  so  in  the  Peninsula.  The  traveller  has  only  to 
cross  the  Pyrenees  to  find  himself  a  contemporary  of  the  sixteenth  century.* 

The  festivities  of  the  court  were  suddenly  terminated  by  the  illness  of 
Isabella,  who  was  attacked  by  the  smallpox.  Her  life  was  in  no  danger  ;  but 
great  fears  were  entertained  lest  the  envious  disease  should  prove  fatal  to  her 
beauty.  Her  mother,  Catherine  de  Medicis,  had  great  apprehensions  on  this 
point ;  and  couriers  crossed  the  Pyrenees  frequently,  during  the  queen's  illness, 
bringing  prescriptions — some  of  them  rather  extraordinary — from  the  French 
doctors  for  preventing  the  ravages  of  the  disorder."  Whether  it  was  by 
reason  of  these  nostrums,  or  her  own  excellent  constitution,  the  queen  was 
fortunate  enough  to  escape  from  the  sick-room  without  a  scar. 

Philip  see'ns  to  have  had  much  reason  to  be  contented  not  only  with  the 
person  but  the  disposition  of  his  wife.  As  her  marriage  had  formed  one  of  the 
articles  in  the  treaty  with  France,  she  was  called  by  the  Spaniards  Isabel  de  la 
Paz.—"  Isabella  of  the  Peace."  Her  own  countrymen  no  less  fondly  styled 
her  "  the  Olive-Brtvnch  of  Peace," — intimating  the  sweetness  of  her  disposition." 

partis  Is  solemnized,  with  the  proper  Chris-  curious  BrantCtne,  was  new-laid  eggs.    It  Is 

tian  rites;  and  Venus  appears,  in   her  own  'a  pity  the  prescription  should  be  lost:  "On 

proper  shape,  to  bless  the  nuptial* !      One  luy   secourust    son   visage   si  bien  par   dc« 

might  have  feared  that  this  Jumble  of  Chris-  BUI-IKS  d'ojufs  frais,  chose  fort  propre  poor 

tian  rites  and  heathen  mythology  would  have  cela,  qu'il  n'y  parut  rien ;  dont  j'en  vis  la 

scaudal.zed  the  Holy  Office  and  exposed  its  Reyne  8*  mere  fort  curleuse  a  luy  envoyer 

ingenious  author  to  the  honours  of  a  tan  par  force  couriers  beaucoup  de  remedes,  mail 

benilo.    But  the  poet  wore  bin  iaureU  un-  celui  de  la  sueurd'oeufenestoit  lesuuverain." 

scathed,  and,  for  aught  I  know  to  the  con-  (Kuvn-n,  torn.  v.  p.  129. 

trary,  died  quietly  in  his  bed.    See  Opera  '•  "Aussi  l'appellolt-on  la  Jleyna  de  la 

Ferdinand!  Kuizil  Vlllegatis  (Vcnctils,  1734),  pat  y  de  la  botuiad,  c'est-a-dlre  la  Reyne  de 

pp.  30-70.  l,i  paix  et  de  la  bonte' ;  et  DOS  Fran; ois  1'ap- 

"  The  sovereign  remedy,  according  to  the  pellorent  1'olive  de  paix."    Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 


•  [The  qualifications  which  this   remark  curiously  described  as  the  mountain-hairier 

would  require.  If  meant  to  be  taken  literally,  separating   Spain    from    "the    central    and 

will  occur  to  must  readers,  even  among  those  eastern  parts  of  Europe." — hu.] 
who  have  never  crossed  what  la  somewhat 


182  PHILIP'S  THIRD  MARRIAGE. 

In  this  respect  she  may  be  thought  to  have  formed  a  contrast  to  Philip's 
former  wife,  Mary  of  England ;  at  least  after  sickness  and  misfortune  had 
done  their  work  upon  that  queen's  temper,  in  the  latter  part  of  her  life. 

If  Isabella  was  not  a  scholar,  like  Mary,  she  at  least  was  well  instructed  for 
the  time,  and  was  fond  of  reading,  especially  poetry.  She  had  a  ready  appre- 
hension, and  learned  in  a  short  time  to  speak  the  Castilian  with  tolerable 
fluency,  while  there  was  something  pleasing  in  her  foreign  accent,  that  made 
her  pronunciation  the  more  interesting.  She  accommodated  herself  so  well  to 
the  usages  of  her  adopted  nation  that  she  soon  won  the  hearts  of  the  Span- 
iards. No  queen  of  Castile,"  says  the  loyal  Brantome,  "  with  due  deference 
to  Isabella  the  Catholic,  was  ever  so  popular  in  the  country."  When  she  went 
abroad,  it  was  usually  with  her  face  uncovered,  after  the  manner  of  her 
countrywomen.  The  press  was  always  great  around  her  whenever  she  appeared 
in  public,  and  happy  was  the  man  who  could  approach  so  near  as  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  her  beautiful  countenance.19 

Yet  Isabella  never  forgot  the  land  of  her  birth ;  and  such  of  her  country- 
men as  visited  the  Castilian  court  were  received  by  her  with  distinguished 
courtesy.  She  brought  along  with  her  in  her  train  to  Castile  several  French 
ladies  of  rank,  as  her  maids  of  honour.  But  a  rivalry  soon  grew  up  between 
them  and  the  Spanish  ladies  in  the  palace,  which  compelled  the  queen,  after 
she  had  in  vain  attempted  to  reconcile  the  parties,  to  send  back  most  of  her 
own  countrywomen.  In  doing  so,  she  was  careful  to  provide  them  with  generous 
marriage-portions.20 

The  queen  maintained  great  state  in  her  household,  as  was  Philip's  wish, 
who  seems  to  have  lavished  on  his  lovely  consort  those  attentions  for  which 
the  unfortunate  Mary  Tudor  had  pined  in  vain.  Besides  a  rare  display  of 
jewels,  Isabella's  wardrobe  was  exceedingly  rich.  Few  of  her  robes  cost  less 
than  three  or  four  hundred  crowns  each,— a  great  sum  for  the  time.  Like 
her  namesake  and  contemporary,  Elizabeth  of  England,  she  rarely  wore  the 
same  dress  twice.  But  she  gave  away  the  discarded  suit  to  her  attendants,*1 
unlike  in  this  to  the  English  queen,  wno  hoarded  up  her  wardrobe  so  carefully 
that  at  her  death  it  must  have  displayed  every  fashion  of  her  reign.  Bran- 
tome,  who,  both  as  a  Frenchman  and  as  one  who  had  seen  the  queen  often 
in  the  court  of  Castile,  may  be  considered  a  judge  in  the  matter,  dwells  with 
rapture  on  the  elegance  of  her  costume,  the  matchless  taste  in  its  arrange- 
ment, and  the  perfection  of  her  coiffure. 

A  manuscript  of  the  time,  by  an  eye-witness,  gives  a  few  particulars  re- 
specting her  manner  of  living,  in  which  some  readers  may  take  an  interest. 

"  "Et  bien  heureux  et  heureuse   estoit  to  accommodate  matters,  had  the  spirit  to 

celuy  ou  celle  qui  pouvoit  le  soir  dire  '  J'ay  decide  in  favour  of  her  own  followers,  and  the 

veu  la  Reyne.' "    BrautOme,  (Euvres,  torn.  v.  aspiring  lady  was  compelled— with    an    ill 

p.  129.  grace — to  give  way  to  the  blood  royal   of 

10  The  difficulty  began  so  soon  as  Isabella  France.    It  was  easier,  as  Isabella,  or  rather 

had  crossed  the  borders.    The  countess  of  as  her  husband,  afterwards  found,  to  settle 

Urefia,  sister  of  the  duke  of  Albuquerque,  one  disputes  between  rival  states  than  between 

of  the  train  of  the  duke  of  Infantado,  claimed  the  rival  beauties  of  a  court.    The  affair  is 

precedence  of   the  countess  of   Rieux   and  told  by  Lansac,  Negotiations   relatives  au 

Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier,  kinswomen  of  Regne  de  Francois  II.,  p.  171. 
the  queen.    The  latter  would  have  averted  '•"  "Elle  ne  porta  jamais  une  robe  deux 

the  discussion  by  giving  the  Castilian  dame  a  fois,  et  puis  la  donnuit  a  ses  femmes  et  ses 

seat  in  her  carriage  ;  but  the  haughty  countess  filles :  et  Dieu  scait  quelles  roboes,  ;  i  riches 

chose  to  take  the  affair  into  her  own  hands ;  et  si  superbes,  que  la  moindre  estoit  de  trois 

and  her  servants  came  into  collision  with  ou  quatre  ecus  escus ;  car  le  Roy  son  niary 

those  of  the  French  ladies,  as  they  endeavoured  1'entretenoit  fort  superbement  de  ces  chosea 

to  secure  a  place  for  their  mistress's  litter  14."    Brantdme,  CEuvres,  torn.  v.  p.  140. 
near  the  queen.    Isabella,  with  all  her  desire 


THE  QUEEN'S  MODE  OF  LIFE.  163 

Among  the  persons  connected  with  the  queen's  establishment,  the  writer 
mentions  her  confessor,  her  almoner,  and  four  physicians.  The  medical  art 
seems  to  have  been  always  held  in  high  repute  in  Spain,  though  in  no  country, 
considering  the  empirical  character  of  its  professors,  with  so  little  reason. 
At  dinner  the  queen  was  usually  attended  by  some  thirty  of  her  ladies.  Two 
of  them,  singularly  enough  as  it  may  seem  to  us,  performed  the  office  of 
carvers.  Another  served  as  cupbearer,  and  stood  by  her  majesty's  chair. 
The  rest  of  her  attendants  stood  round  the  apartment,  conversing  with  their 
gallants,  who,  in  a  style  to  which  she  had  not  been  usea  in  the  French  court, 
kept  their  heads  covered  during  the  repast.  "  They  were  there,"  they  said, 
"  not  to  wait  on  the  queen,  but  her  ladies."  After  her  solitary  meal  was  over, 
Isabella  retired  with  her  attendants  to  her  chamber,  where,  with  the  aid  of 
music  and  such  mirth  as  the  buffoons  and  jesters  of  the  palace  could  afford, 
she  made  shift  to  pass  the  evening.22 

Such  is  the  portrait  which  her  contemporaries  have  left  us  of  Elizabeth  of 
France,  and  such  the  accounts  of  her  popularity  with  the  nation,  and  the 
state  maintained  in  her  establishment.  Well  might  Brantome  sadly  exclaim, 
"  Alas  !  what  did  it  all  avail  '<"  A  few  brief  years  only  were  to  pass  away 
before  this  spoiled  child  of  fortune,  the  delight  of  the  monarch,  the  ornament 
and  pride  of  the  court,  was  to  exchange  the  pomps  and  glories  of  her  royal 
state  for  the  dark  chambers  of  the  Escorial. 

From  Toledo  the  court  proceeded  to  Valladolid,  long  the  favourite  residence 
of  the  Castilian  princes,  though  not  the  acknowledged  capital  of  the  country. 
Indeed,  there  was  no  city,  since  the  time  of  the  Visigoths,  that  could  posi- 
tively claim  that  pre-eminence.  This  honour  was  reserved  for  Madrid,  wnich 
became  the  established  residence  of  the  court  under  Philip,  who  in  this  but 
carried  out  the  ideas  of  his  father,  Charles  the  Fifth. 

The  emperor  had  passed  much  time  in  this  place,  where,  strange  to  say,  the 
chief  recommendation  to  him  seems  to  have  been  the  climate.  Situated  on  a 
broad  expanse  of  table-land,  at  an  elevation  of  twenty-four  hundred  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  the  brisk  and  rarefied  atmosphere  of  Madrid  proved 
favourable  to  Charles's  health.  It  preserved  him,  in  particular,  from  attacks 
of  the  fever  and  ague,  which  racked  his  constitution  almost  as  much  as  the 
gout  In  the  ancient  alcazir  of  the  Moors  he  found  a  stately  residence, 
which  he  made  commodious  by  various  alterations.  Philip  extended  these 
improvements.  He  added  new  apartments,  and  spent  much  money  in  en- 
larging and  embellishing  the  old  ones.  The  ceilings  were  gilded  and  richly 
carved.  The  walls  were  hung  with  tapestries,  and  the  saloons  and  galleries 
decorated  with  sculpture  and  with  paintings, — many  of  them  the  productions 
of  native  artists,  the  first  disciples  of  a  school  which  was  one  day  to  rival  the 
great  masters  of  Italy.  Extensive  grounds  were  also  laid  out  around  the 
palace,  and  a  park  was  formed,  which  in  time  came  to  be  covered  with  a 
growth  of  noble  trees,  and  well  stocked  with  game.  The  alcazar,  thus  im- 
proved, became  a  fitting  residence  for  the  sovereign  of  Spain.  Indeed,  if  we 
may  trust  the  magnificent  vaunt  of  a  contemporary,  it  was  "allowed  by 
foreigners  to  be  the  rarest  thing  of  the  kind  possessed  by  any  monarch  in 
Christendom."  M  It  continued  to  be  the  abode  of  the  Spanish  princes  until, 

"  The  MS.,  which  Is  In  Italian,  Is  In  the  iluntra,  de  manera  qae  t*,  conuMfradM  t»daa 

Royal  Library  at  Paris.    See  the  extract*  from  sun  calldades,  la  mas  rara  casa  quc  ningun 

it    in   Ballmer's  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Principe  tlene  en  el  mundo,  a  dicho  de  los 

Centuries,  vol.  I.  p.  104,  et  aeq.  entranprroa."    Juan    Lopez,    ap.    Quintan*, 

"  "  Don  Felipe  Scgiindo  nuestro  sefior,  el  Aiitigm:>lail,  Nubleza  y  lirundcu  de  la  Villa 

cnal  con  mu y  Hiintno*a*,  y  exqulsitaa  fubricaa  y  Cvrte  de  Madrid,  p.  331. 
dignaa  dc  tan  grande  Priucipe,  de  nnevo  to 


184  PHILIP'S  THIRD  MARRIAGE. 

in  1734,  in  the  reign  of  Philip  the  Fifth,  the  building  was  destroyed  by  a  fire, 
which  lasted  nearly  a  week.  But  it  rose  like  a  phoenix  from  its  ashes  ;  and  a 
new  palace  was  raised  on  the  site  of  the  old  one,  of  still  larger  dimensions, 
presenting  in  the  beauty  of  its  materials  as  well  as  of  its  execution  one  of  the 
noblest  monuments  of  the  architecture  of  the  eighteenth  century.24 

Haying  completed  his  arrangements,  Philip  established  his  residence  at 
Madrid  in  1563.  The  town  then  contained  about  twelve  thousand  inhabi- 
tants. Under  the  forcing  atmosphere  of  a  court,  the  population  rose  by  the 
end  of  his  long  reign  to  three  hundred  thousand," — a  number  which  it  has 
probably  not  since  exceeded.  The  accommodations  in  the  capital  kept  pace 
with  the  increase  of  population.  Everything  was  built  for  duration.  Instead 
of  flimsy  houses  that  might  serve  for  a  temporary  residence,  the  streets  were 
lined  with  strong  and  substantial  edifices.  Under  the  royal  patronage  public 
works  on  a  liberal  scale  were  executed,  Madrid  was  ornamented  with  bridges, 
aqueducts,  hospitals,  the  Museum,  the  Armoury, — stately  structures  which 
even  now  challenge  our  admiration,  not  less  by  the  excellence  of  their  designs 
than  by  the  richness  of  their  collections  and  the  enlightened  taste  which  they 
infer  at  this  early  period, 

In  the  opinion  of  its  inhabitants,  indeed  we  may  say  of  the  nation,  Madrid 
surpassed  not  only  every  other  city  in  the  country,  but  in  Christendom. 
"  There  is  but  one  Madrid,"  says  the  Spanish  proverb.28  "  When  Madrid  is 
the  theme,  the  world  listens  in  silence  !  *7  In  a  similar  key,  the  old  Castilian 
writers  celebrate  the  glories  of  their  capital, — the  nursery  of  wit,  genius,  and 
gallantry, — and  expatiate  on  the  temperature  of  a  climate  propitious  alike  to 
the  beauty  of  the  women  and  the  bravery  of  the  men.28 

Yet,  with  all  this  lofty  panegyric,  the  foreigner  is  apt  to  see  things  through 
a  very  different  medium  from  that  through  which  they  are  seen  by  the  pa- 
triotic eye  of  the  native.  The  traveller  to  Madrid  finds  little  to  praise  in  a 
situation  where  the  keen  winds  from  the  mountains  come  laden  with  disease, 
and  where  the  subtle  atmosphere,  to  use  one  of  the  national  proverbs,  that 
can  hardly  put  out  a  candle,  will  extinguish  the  life  of  a  man  ; 29  where  the 
capital,  insulated  in  the  midst  of  a  dreary  expanse  of  desert,  seems  to  be  cut 
off  from  sympathy,  if  not  from  intercourse,  with  the  provinces  ; J0  and  where, 
instead  of  a  great  river  that  might  open  to  it  a  commerce  with  distant 

*•  Joan  Lopez,  ap.  Quintana,  Antignedad,  gallardas,   lucidos  ingenios,  coragones  vali- 

etc.,  de  Madrid,  ubi  supra.  -  Sylva,  Poblacion  entes,  y  gencrosos  animos."    Sylva,  Poblacion 

de  Espaiia  ( Madrid,  1675),  cap.  4. — Estrada,  de  Espafia,  cap.  4. 

Pobtoion  de  Espafia  (Madrid,  1748),  torn.  i.  „  ..  Ei  ftjre  de  Madrid  eg  tan  ^ 

"I  quote  the  words  of  a  work  now  become  «ue  J^t,*,,™  h°mbre'  y  D°  Rp&g*  a  m 
very  scarce :  "  De  dos  mil  y  quinientas  y 

veinte  casas  que  tenia  Madrid  quando   su  *•  Lucio  Marineo  gives   a  very  different 

Magestad  traxo  desde  Toledo  &  ella  la  Corte,  view  of  the  environs  of  Madrid  in  Ferdinand 

en  las  quali-s  quando  mucbo  avria  de  doce  and  Isabella's  time.    The  picture,  by  the  hand 

mil  a  catorce  mil  personas,  .  .  .  avia  el  afio  of  a  contemporary,  affords  so  striking  a  con- 

de  mil  y  quinientos  y  noventa  y  oclio,  repar-  trast  to  the  present  time  that  it  is  worth 

tidas  en  trece  Parroquias  doce  mil  casas,  y  en  quoting :    "  Corren  por  ella  los  ayres  muy 

ellas  trescientas  mil  personas  y  mas."    Quin-  delgados:  por  los  quales  siepre  blve  la  gete 

tana,  Antiguedad  de  Madrid,  p.  331.*  muy  sana.    Tiene  mas  este  lugar  grades  ter- 

*•  "  No  hay  sino  un  Madrid."  minos  y  campos   mny  fertiles :    los  quales 

"  "  Donde  Madrid  esW,  calle  el  Mundo."  llama  lonios  de  Madrid.    Por  que  cojen  en 

"•  "  No  se  conoce  cielo  mas  benevolo,  mas  ellos  mucbo  pan  y  vino,  y  otras  cosas  neces- 

apacible  clima,   influxo  mas  favorable,  con  sarias  y  matenimientos  muy  sanos."    Cosas 

que  sobresalen  hermosos  rostros.  disposlciones  memorables  de  Espafia,  fol.  13. 


*  [There  is  an  obvious  discordancy  in  these       have  sheltered  a  population  of  three  hundred 
numbers :    twelve  thousand  houses   cannot       thousand  persons. — ED.] 


THE  REFORMATION.  185 

quarters  of  the  globe,  it  is  washed  only  by  a  stream,—"  the  far-famed  Manza- 
nares," — the  bed  of  which  in  summer  is  a  barren  water-course.  The  traveller 
may  well  doubt  whether  the  fanciful  advantage,  so  much  vaunted,  of  being 
the  centre  of  Spain,  is  sufficient  to  compensate  the  manifold  evils  of  such  a 
position,  and  even  whether  those  are  far  from  truth  who  find  in  this  position 
one  of  the  many  causes  of  the  decline  of  the  national  prosperity.*1 

A  full  experience  of  the  inconveniences  of  the  site  of  the  capital  led  Charles 
the  Third  to  contemplate  its  removal  to  Seville.  But  it  was  too  late.  Madrid 
had  been  too  lone,  in  the  Castilian  boast,  "  the  only  court  in  the  world,"  ** — 
the  focus  to  which  converged  talent,  fashion,  and  wealth  from  all  quarters 
of  the  country.  Too  many  patriotic  associations  had  gathered  round  it  to 
warrant  its  desertion ;  and,  m  spite  of  its  local  disadvantages,  the  capital 
planted  by  Philip  the  Second  continued  to  remain,  as  it  wifl  probably  ever 
remain,  the  capital  of  the  Spanish  monarchy. 


CHAPTER  V. 

DISCONTENT  IN  THE  NETHERLANDS. 
The  Reformation— Its  Progress  in  the  Netherlands— General  Discontent— William  of  Orange. 

THE  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  presented  one  of  those  crises  which  have 
occurred  at  long  intervals  in  the  history  of  Europe,  when  the  course  of  events 
has  had  a  permanent  influence  on  the  destiny  of  nations.  Scarcely  forty  years 
had  elapsed  since  Luther  had  thrown  down  the  gauntlet  to  the  Vatican  by 
publicly  burning  the  papal  bull  at  Wittenberg.  Since  that  time,  his  doctrines 
had  been  received  in  Denmark  and  Sweden.  In  England,  after  a  state  of 
vacillation  for  three  reigns,  Protestantism,  in  the  peculiar  form  which  it  still 
wears,  was  become  the  established  religion  of  the  state.  The  fiery  cross  had 
gone  round  over  the  hills  and  valleys  of  Scotland,  and  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  had  gathered  to  hear  the  word  of  life  from  the  lips  of  Knox.  The 
doctrines  of  Luther  were  spread  over  the  northern  parts  of  Germany,  and  free- 
dom of  worship  was  finally  guaranteed  there,  by  the  treaty  of  Passau.  The 
Low  Countries  were  the  "debatable  land,"  on  which  the  various  sects  of 
Reformers,  the  Lutheran,  the  Calvinist,  tne  English  Protestant,  contended 
for  mastery  with  the  established  Church.  Calvinism  was  embraced  by  some 
of  the  cantons  of  Switzerland,  and  at  Geneva  its  great  apostle  had  fixed  his 
head-quarters.  His  doctrines  were  widely  circulated  through  France,  till  the 
divided  nation  was  preparing  to  plunge  into  that  worst  of  all  wars,  in  which 
the  hand  of  brother  is  raised  agkinst  brother.  The  cry  of  reform  had  even 
passed  the  Alps,  and  was  heard  under  the  walls  of  tne  Vatican.  It  had 
crossed  the  Pyrenees.  The  king  of  Navarre  declared  himself  a  Protestant ; 
and  the  spirit  of  the  Reformation  had  secretly  insinuated  itself  into  Spain, 
and  taken  hold,  as  we  have  seen,  of  the  middle  and  southern  provinces  of  the 
kingdom. 
A  contemporary  of  the  period,  who  reflected  on  the  onward  march  of  the 

"  Such  at  least  In  Ford's  opinion.    (See  the  from  the  reports  of  the  natives. 

Handbook  of   Spain,  p.   720,   et  seq.)     His  "  "  Solo  Madrid  es  corte." — Ford,  who  has 

clever  and  caustic  remarks  on  the  climate  of  certainly  not  ministered  to  the  vanity  of  tho 

Madrid  will  disenchant  the  traveller  whose  Madrlli-no,  has  strung  together  these  various 

notions  of  the  capital  have  been  derived  ouly  proverbs  with  good  effect. 


186  DISCONTENT  IN  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

'new  religion  over  every  obstacle  in  its  path,  who  had  seen  it  gather  under  its 
banners  states  and  nations  once  the  most  loyal  and  potent  vassals  of  Rome, 
would  have  had  little  reason  to  doubt  that  before  the  end  of  the  century  the 
Reform  would  have  extended  its  sway  over  the  whole  of  Christendom.  Fortu- 
nately for  Catholicism,  the  most  powerful  empire  in  Europe  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  prince  who  was  devoted  with  his  whole  soul  to  the  interests  of  the  Church. 
Philip  the  Second  understood  the  importance  of  his  position.  His  whole  life 
proves  that  he  felt  it  to  be  his  especial  mission  to  employ  his  great  resources 
to  restore  the  tottering  fortunes  of  Catholicism  and  stay  the  progress  of  the 
torrent  which  was  sweeping  away  every  landmark  of  the  primitive  faith. 

We  have  seen  the  manner  in  which  he  crushed  the  efforts  of  the  Protestants 
in  Spain.  This  was  the  first  severe  blow  struck  at  the  Reformation.  Its  con- 
sequences cannot  well  be  exaggerated ;  not  the  immediate  results,  which 
•would  have  been  little  without  the  subsequent  reforms  and  increased  activity 
of  the  Church  of  Rome  itself.  But  the  moral  influence  of  such  a  blow,  when 
the  minds  of  men  had  been  depressed  by  a  long  series  of  reverses,  is  not  to  be 
estimated.  In  view  of  this,  one  of  the  most  eminent  Roman  Catholic  writers 
does  not  hesitate  to  remark  that  "  the  power  and  abilities  of  Philip  the  Second 
afforded  a  counterpoise  to  the  Protestant  cause,  which  prevented  it  from 
making  itself  master  of  Europe." '  The  blow  was  struck  ;  and  from  this  period 
little  beyond  its  present  conquests  was  to  be  gained  for  the  cause  of  the 
Reformation. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  Philip,  after  having  exterminated  heresy  in 
one  part  of  his  dominions,  should  tolerate  its  existence  in  any  other, — least  of 
all  in  a  country  so  important  as  the  Netherlands.  Yet  a  little  reflection  might 
have  satisfied  him  that  the  same  system  of  measures  could  hardly  be  applied 
with  a  prospect  of  success  to  two  countries  so  differently  situated  as  Spain  and 
the  Netherlands.  The  Romish  faith  may  be  said  to  have  entered  into  the 
being  of  the  Spaniard.  It  was  not  merely  cherished  as  a  form  of  religion,  but 
as  a  principle  of  honour.  It  was  part  of  the  national  history.  For  eight 
centuries  the  Spaniard  had  been  fighting  at  home  the  battles  of  the  Church. 
Nearly  every  inch  of  soil  in  his  own  country  was  won  by  arms  from  the  infidel. 
His  wars,  as  I  have  more  than  once  had  occasion  to  remark,  were  all  wars  of 
religion.  He  carried  the  same  spirit  across  the  waters.  There  he  was  still 
fighting  the  infidel.  His  life  was  one  long  crusade.  How  could  this  champion 
of  the  Church  desert  her  in  her  utmost  need  ? 

With  this  predisposition,  it  was  easy  for  Philip  to  enforce  obedience  in  a 
people  naturally  the  most  loyal  to  their  princes,  to  whom,  moreover,  since  the 
fatal  war  of  the  Comunidades,  they  had  been  accustomed  to  pay  an  almost 
Oriental  submission.  Intrenched  behind  the  wall  of  the  Pyrenees,  Spain,  we 
must  bear  in  mind,  felt  little  of  the  great  shock  which  was  convulsing  France 
and  the  other  states  of  Europe  ;  and  with  the  aid  of  so  formidable  an  engine 
as  the  Inquisition  it  was  easy  to  exterminate,  before  they  could  take  root,  such 
seeds  of  heresy  as  had  been  borne  by  the  storm  across  the  mountains. 

The  Netherlands,  on  the  other  hand,  lay  like  a  valley  among  the  hills, 
which  drinks  in  all  the  waters  of  the  surrounding  country.  They  were  a 
common  reservoir  for  the  various  opinions  which  agitated  the  nations  on  their 
borders.  On  the  south  were  the  Lutherans  of  Germany  ;  the  French  Hugue- 
nots  pressed  them  on  the  west ;  and  by  the  ocean  they  held  communication 
with  England  and  the  nations  of  the  Baltic.  The  soldier  quartered  on  their 
territory,  the  seaman  who  visited  their  shores,  the  trader  who  trafficked  in 
their  towns,  brought  with  them  different  forms  of  the  new  religion.  Books 
1  Balmes,  Protestantism  and  Catholicity  Compared,  p.  215. 


REFORMATION  IN  THE  NETHERLANDS.  187 

from  France  and  from  Germany  circulated  widely  among  a  people  nearly  all 
of  whom,  as  we  have  seen,  were  able  to  read. 

The  new  doctrines  were  discussed  by  men  accustomed  to  think  and  act  for 
themselves.  Freedom  of  speculation  on  religious  topics  soon  extended  to 
political.  It  was  the  natural  tendency  of  reform.  The  same  spirit  of  free 
inquiry  which  attacked  the  foundations  of  unity  of  faith  stood  ready  next  to 
assail  those  of  unity  of  government ;  and  men  began  boldly  to  criticize  the 
rights  of  kings  and  the  duties  of  subjects. 

The  spirit  of  independence  was  fostered  by  the  institutions  of  the  country. 
The  provinces  of  the  Netherlands,  if  not  republican  in  form,  were  filled  with 
the  spirit  of  republics.  In  many  of  their  features  they  call  to  mind  the  free 
states  of  Italy  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Under  the  petty  princes  who  ruled  over 
them  in  early  days,  they  had  obtained  charters,  as  we  have  seen,  which  secured 
a  certain  degree  of  constitutional  freedom.  The  province  of  Brabant,  above 
all,  gloried  in  its  "  Joyeuse  Entree"  which  guaranteed  privileges  and  immuni- 
ties of  a  more  liberal  character  than  those  possessed  by  the  other  states  of  the 
Netherlands.  When  the  provinces  passed  at  length  under  the  sceptre  of  a 
single  sovereign,  he  lived  at  a  distance,*  and  the  government  was  committed 
to  a  viceroy.  Since  their  connection  with  Spain,  the  administration  had  been 
for  the  most  part  in  the  hands  of  a  woman  ;  and  the  delegated  authority  of  a 
woman  pressed  but  lightly  on  the  independent  temper  of  the  Flemings. 

Yet  Charles  the  Fifth,  as  we  have  seen,  partial  as  he  was  to  his  countrymen 
in  the  Netherlands,  could  ill  brook  their  audacious  spirit,  and  made  vigorous 
efforts  to  repress  it.  But  his  zeal  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  people  never 
led  him  to  overlook  their  material  interests.  He  had  no  design  by  his  punish- 
ments to  cripple  their  strength,  much  less  to  urge  them  to  extremity.  When 
the  regent,  Mary  of  Hungary,  his  sister,  warned  him  that  his  laws  bore  too 
heavily  on  the  people  to  be  endured,  he  was  careful  to  mitigate  their  severity. 
His  edicts  in  tne  name  of  religion  were,  indeed,  written  in  blood.  But  the 
frequency  of  their  repetition  shows,  as  already  remarked,  the  imperfect 
manner  in  which  they  were  executed.  This  was  still  further  proved  by  the 

Erosperous  condition  of  the  people,  the  flourishing  aspect  of  the  various 
ranches  of  industry,  and  the  great  enterprises  to  facilitate  commercial  inter- 
course and  foster  the  activity  of  the  country.  At  the  close  of  Charles's  reign, 
or  rather  at  the  commencement  of  his  successor's,  in  1660,  was  completed  the 
grand  canal  extending  from  Antwerp  to  Brussels,  the  construction  of  which 
had  consumed  thirty  years  and  one  million  eight  hundred  thousand  florins.* 


Flemings,  feeling  their  own  strength,  should  have  assumed  a  free  and  inde- 
pendent tone  little  grateful  to  the  ear  of  a  sovereign.  So  far  had  this  spirit  of 
liberty— or  license,  as  it  was  termed — increased,  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
emperor's  reign,  that  the  Regent  Mary,  when  her  brother  abdicated,  chose 
also  to  resign,  declaring,  in  a  letter  to  him,  that  "  she  would  not  continue  to 
live  with,  much  less  to  reign  over,  a  people  whose  manners  had  undergone 

•  "II  y  avolt  blen  30.  ans  quo  ceux  de  proprietalreii,  on  y  avolt  falct  40.  grandes 

Rrumelles   avoyent   commence,   et    avoyent  enclunes  .  .  .  et  counta  dlx  bulls  cent  mtlle 

perce  des  colline*.  des  champ*  et  chemlns,  florin*."     Meteren,  Hist,  des  I'uys-lias,  tuin. 

desnuels  Us  avolenl  achapte   lea   fond*  des  I.  ful.  26. 


•  [It  would  be  vain  to  conjecture  what  called ;  nnd  when  he  Inherited  tlip  provinces 
Anverelgn  In  here  alluded  to.  Charles  V.  was  thoy  had  been  united  under  a  common  sceptre 
the  first  absentee,  if  even  he  could  be  *>  for  nearly  u  century. — Kn.J 


188  DISCONTENT  IN  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

such  a  change, — in  whom  respect  for  God  and  man  seemed  no  longer  to 
exist."' 

A  philosopher  who  should  have  contemplated  at  that  day  the  condition  of 
the  country,  and  the  civilization  at  which  it  had  arrived,  might  feel  satisfied 
that  a  system  of  toleration  in  religious  matters  would  be  the  one  best  suited 
to  the  genius  of  the  people  and  the  character  of  their  institutions.  But  Philip 
was  no  philosopher ;  and  toleration  was  a  virtue  not  understood,  at  that  time, 
by  Calvinist  any  more  than  by  Catholic.  The  question,  therefore,  is  not 
whether  the  end  he  proposed  was  the  best  one, — on  this,  few  at  the  present 
day  will  differ, — but  whether  Philip  took  the  best  means  for  effecting  that 
end.  This  is  the  point  of  view  from  which  his  conduct  in  the  Netherlands 
should  be  criticised. 

Here,  in  the  outset,  he  seems  to  have  fallen  into  a  capital  error,  by  com- 
mitting so  large  a  share  in  the  government  to  the  hands  of  a  foreigner, — 
Granvelle.  The  country  was  filled  with  nobles,  some  of  them  men  of  the 
highest  birth,  whose  ancestors  were  associated  with  the  most  stirring  national 
recollections,  and  who  were  endeared,  moreover,  to  their  countrymen  by  their 
own  services.  To  several  of  these  Philip  himself  was  under  no  slight  obliga- 
tions for  the  aid  they  had  afforded  him  in  the  late  war, — on  the  fields  of 
Gravelines  and  St.  Quentin,  and  in  the  negotiation  of  the  treaty  which  closed 
his  hostilities  with  France.  It  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  these  proud 
nobles,  conscious  of  their  superior  claims,  and  accustomed  to  so  much  authority 
and  deference  in  their  own  land,  would  tamely  submit  to  the  control  of  a 
stranger,  a  man  of  obscure  family,  like  his  father  indebted  for  his  elevation  to 
the  royal  favour. 

Besides  these  great  lords,  there  was  a  numerous  aristocracy,  inferior  nobles 
and  cavaliers,  many  of  whom  had  served  under  the  standard  of  Charles  in  his 
long  wars.  They  there  formed  those  formidable  companies  of  ordonnance, 
whose  fame  perhaps  stood  higher  than  that  of  any  other  corps  of  the  imperial 
cavalry.  The  situation  of  these  men,  now  disbanded,  and,  with  their  roving 
military  habits,  hanging  loosely  on  the  country,  has  been  compared  by  a 
modern  author  to  that  which  on  the  accession  of  the  Bourbons  was  occupied 
by  the  soldiers  whom  Napoleon  had  so  often  led  to  victory.4  To  add  to  tneir 
restlessness,  many  of  these,  as  well  as  of  the  higher  nobility,  were  embarrassed 
by  debts  contracted  in  then-  campaigns,  or  by  too  ambitious  expenditure  at 
home,  especially  in  rivalry  with  the  ostentatious  Spaniard.  "  The  Flemish 
nobles,"  says  a  writer  of  the  time,  "  were  too  many  of  them  oppressed  by 
heavy  debts  and  the  payment  of  exorbitant  interest.  They  spent  twice  as 
much  as  they  were  worth  on  their  palaces,  furniture,  troops  of  retainers, 
costly  liveries,  their  banquets  and  sumptuous  entertainments  of  every  descrip- 
tion,— in  fine,  in  every  form  of  luxury  and  superfluity  that  could  be  devised. 
Thus  discontent  became  prevalent  through  the  country,  and  men  anxiously 
looked  forward  to  some  change."  * 

•  "  Je  vols  une  grande  jennesse  en  ces  pays,  por  nsura  y  gastos  superfluos,  gastando  cart 

avec  les  mcenrs desqnelz  ne  me  wjaurois  ny  ne  mas  que  doble  de  lo  que  tenian  en  edificios, 

voudrois  accommoder;  la  fidelite  du  munde  mueblee,  festines,  danzas,  maecaradas,  fuegog 

et  respect  envers  Dieu  et  son  prince  si  corrom-  de  dados,  naipes,  vestidos,  libreas,  seguimiento 

pua,  .  .  .  qne  ne  desirerols  pas  senllement  de  de  crlados  y  generalmente  en  todas  suerU-s  de 

IPS  pas  gouverner,  .  .  .  mais  aussy  me  fasche  deleytes,  luxuria,  y  superfluidad,  lo  que  Re 

de  le  veoir,  congnoistre  et  de  vivre  .  .  .  entre  avia  comenzado  antes  de  la  yda  de  su  magestad 

telles  gens."    Papiers  d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  &  Espafia.     Y  desde  entono  s  uvo  on  d<  scon- 

tom.  iv.  p.  476.  tento  casl  general  en  el  pais  y  esperanza  de 

4  Gerlache,  Histoire  du  Royaume  des  Pays-  esta  gente  asi  alborotada  de  veer  en  poco 
Has  (Bruxelles,  1842),  torn.  i.  p.  71.  tierapo  nna  mudnnza."    Renom  de  Francia, 

5  "Es  menester  ver  como  la  nobleza  se  ha  Alborotos  de  Flandes,  MS. 
dcsde  mucho  tiempo  desmandada  y  empefiada 


WILLIAM  OF  ORANGE.  189 

Still  another  element  of  discontent,  and  one  that  extended  to  all  classes, 
was  antipathy  to  the  Spaniards.  It  had  not  been  easy  to  repress  this  even 
under  the  rule  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  who  had  shown  such  manifest  preference 
for  his  Flemish  subjects.  But  now  it  was  more  decidedly  called  out,  under  a 
monarch  whose  sympathies  lay  altogether  on  the  side  of  their  rivals.  No 
doubt  this  popular  sentiment  is  to  be  explained  partly  by  the  contrast  afforded 
by  the  characters  of  the  two  nations,  so  great  as  hardly  to  afford  a  point  of 
contact  between  them.  But  it  may  be  fairly  charged  to  a  great  extent  on  the 
Spaniards  themselves,  who,  while  they  displayed  many  noble  and  magnani- 
mous traits  at  home,  seemed  desirous  to  exhibit  only  the  repulsive  side  of 
their  character  to  the  eye  of  the  stranger.  Cold  and  impenetrable,  assuming 
an  arrogant  tone  of  superiority  over  every  other  nation,  in  whatever  land  it 
was  their  destiny  to  be  cast,  England,  Italy,  or  the  Netherlands,  as  allies  or 
as  enemies,  we  find  the  Spaniards  of  that  day  equally  detested.  Brought 
with  them,  as  the  people  of  the  Netherlands  were,  under  a  common  sceptre,  a 
spirit  of  comparison  and  rivalry  grew  up,  which  induced  a  thousand  causes  of 
irritation. 

The  difficulty  was  still  further  increased  by  the  condition  of  the  neighbour- 
ing countries,  where  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants  were  now  in  the  highest 
state  of  fermentation  in  matters  of  religion.  In  short,  the  atmosphere  seemed 
everywhere  to  be  in  that  highly  electrified  condition  which  bodes  the  coming 
tempest.  In  this  critical  state  of  things,  it  was  clear  that  it  was  only  by  a 
most  careful  and  considerate  policy  that  narmony  could  be  maintained  in  the 
Netherlands, — a  policy  manifesting  alike  tenderness  for  the  feelings  of  the 
nation  and  respect  for  its  institutions. 

Having  thus  shown  the  general  aspect  of  things  when  the  duchess  of  Parma 
entered  on  her  regency,  towards  the  close  of  1559,  it  is  time  to  go  forward 
with  the  narrative  of  the  prominent  events  which  led  to  the  War  of  the 
Revolution. 

We  have  already  seen  that  Philip,  on  leaving  the  country,  lodged  the 
administration  nominally  in  three  councils,  although  in  truth  it  was  on 
the  council  of  state  that  the  weight  of  government  actually  rested.  Even  here 
the  nobles  who  composed  it  were  of  little  account  in  matters  of  real  import- 
ance, which  were  reserved  for  a  consulta,  consisting,  besides  the  regent,  of 
Granvelle,  Count  Barlaimont,  and  the  learned  jurist  Viglius.  As  the  last  two 
were  altogether  devoted  to  Granvelle,  and  the  regent  was  instructed  to  defer 
greatly  to  his  judgment,  the  government  of  the  Netherlands  may  be  said  to 
nave  been  virtually  deposited  in  the  hands  of  the  bishop  of  Arras. 

At  the  head  of  the  Flemish  nobles  in  the  council  of  state,  and  indeed  in  the 
country,  taking  into  view  their  rank,  fortune,  and  public  services,  stood  Count 
Kgtnont  and  the  prince  of  Orange.  I  have  already  given  some  account  of  the 
former,  and  the  reader  has  seen  the  important  part  which  he  took  in  the  great 
victories  of  Gravelines  and  St.  Quentin.  To  the  prince  of  Orange  Philip  had 
also  been  indebted  for  his  counsel  in  conducting  the  war,  and  still  more  for 
the  aid  which  he  had  afforded  in  the  negotiations  for  peace.  It  will  be  proper, 
before  going  further,  to  give  the  reader  some  particulars  of  this  celebrated 
man,  the  great  leader  in  the  war  of  the  Netherlands. 

William,  prince  of  Orange,  was  born  at  Dillenburg,  in  the  German  duchy  of 
Nassau,  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  April,  1533.  He  was  descended  from  a  house 
one  of  whose  branches  had  given  an  emperor  to  Germany ;  and  William's  own 
ancestors  were  distinguished  by  the  employments  they  had  held,  and  the 
services  they  had  rendered,  both  in  Germany  and  the  Low  Countries.  It  was 
a  proud  vaunt  of  his,  that  Philip  was  under  larger  obligations  to  him  tliaii  he 


190  DISCONTENT  IN  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

to  Philip,  and  that  but  for  the  house  of  Nassau  the  king  of  Spain  would  not 
be  able  to  write  as  many  titles  as  he  now  did  after  his  name.6 

When  eleven  years  old,  by  the  death  of  his  cousin  Rene  he  came  into 
possession  of  a  large  domain  in  Holland,  and  a  still  larger  property  in  Brabant, 
where  he  held  the  title  of  Lord  of  Breda.  To  these  was  added  the  splendid 
inheritance  of  Chalons,  and  of  the  principality  of  Orange ;  which,  however, 
situated  at  a  distance,  in  the  heart  of  France,  might  seem  to  be  held  by  a 
somewhat  precarious  tenure. 

William's  parents  were  both  Lutherans,  and  in  their  faith  he  was  educated. 
But  Charles  saw  with  displeasure  the  false  direction  thus  given  to  one  who  at 
a  future  day  was  to  occupy  so  distinguished  a  position  among  his  Flemish 
vassals.  With  the  consent  of  his  parents,  the  child,  in  his  twelfth  year,  was 
removed  to  Brussels,  to  be  brought  up  in  the  family  of  the  emperor's  sister, 
the  Regent  Mary  of  Hungary.  However  their  consent  to  this  step  may  be 
explained,  it  certainly  seems  that  their  zeal  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  their 
son  was  not  such  as  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his  temporal.  In  the  family  of  the 
regent  the  youth  was  bred  a  Catholic,  while  in  all  respects  he  received  an 
education  suited  to  his  rank.7  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  his  preceptor  was 
a  younger  brother  of  Granvelle — the  man  with  whom  William  was  afterwards 
to  be  placed  in  an  attitude  of  such  bitter  hostility. 

When  fifteen  years  of  age,  the  prince  was  taken  into  the  imperial  household, 
and  became  the  page  of  Charles  the  Fifth.  The  emperor  was  not  slow  in  dis- 
cerning the  extraordinary  qualities  of  the  youth  ;  and  he  showed  it  by  intrust- 
ing him,  as  he  grew  older,  with  various  important  commissions.  He  was 
accompanied  by  the  prince  on  his  military  expeditions ;  and  Charles  gave  a 
remarkable  proof  of  his  confidence  in  his  capacity,  by  raising  him,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-two,  over  the  heads  of  veteran  officers  and  giving  him  the  command 
of  the  imperial  forces  engaged  in  the  siege  of  Marienburg.  During  the  six 
months  that  William  was  in  command  they  were  still  occupied  with  this  siege, 
and  with  the  construction  of  a  fortress  for  the  protection  of  Flanders.  There 
was  little  room  for  military  display.  But  the  troops  were  in  want  of  food  and 
of  money,  and  their  young  commander's  conduct  under  these  embarrassments 
was  such  as  to  vindicate  the  wisdom  of  his  appointment.  Charles  afterwards 
employed  him  on  several  diplomatic  missions, — a  more  congenial  field  for  the 
exercise  of  his  talents,  which  appear  to  have  been  better  suited  to  civil  than  to 
military  affairs. 

The  emperor's  regard  for  the  prince  seems  to  have  increased  with  his  years, 
and  he  gave  public  proof  of  it,  in  the  last  hour  of  his  reign,  by  leaning  on 
William's  shoulder,  at  the  time  of  his  abdication,  when  he  made  his  parting 
address  to  the  states  of  the  Netherlands.  He  showed  this  still  further  by 
selecting  him  for  the  honourable  mission  of  bearing  the  imperial  crown  to 
Ferdinand. 

On  his  abdication,  Charles  earnestly  commended  William  to  his  successor. 
Philip  profited  by  his  services  in  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  when  the  prince  of 
Orange,  who  had  followed  him  in  the  French  war,  was  made  one  of  the  four 

•  ApologiedeGuillaumelX.  Princed'Orange  which  he  had  been  educated  (p.  195).    But, 

centre   la   Proscription  de   Philippe  II.   Roi  whatever  concessions  to  the  Protestants  may 

d'Kspagne,  presentee  aux  Etats  Generaux  des  have  been  wrung  from  Charles  by  considera- 

Pays-Bas,  le  13  Decembre,  1580,  ap.  Dumont,  tions  of  public  policy,  we  suspect  few  who 

Corps  diplomatique,  torn.  v.  p.  384.  have  studied  his  character  will   believe  that 

'  M.  Groen  Van  I'rinsterer  has  taken  some  he  would  ever  have  consented  to  allow  one  of 

pains  to  explain  the  conduct  of  William's  his  own  household,  one  to  whom  he  stood  in 

parents,  on  the  ground,  chiefly,  that  they  had  the  relation  of  a  guardian,  to  be  nurtured  in 

reason  to  think  their  son,  after  all,  might  be  the  faith  of  heretics, 
allowed  to  worship  according  to  the  way  in 


WILLIAM  OF  ORANGE.  191 

plenipotentiaries  for  negotiating  the  treaty  of  Cateau-Cambresis,  for  the  exe- 
cution of  which  he  remained  as  one  of  the  hostages  in  France. 

While  at  the  court  of  Henry  the  Second,  it  will  be  remembered,  the  prince 
became  acquainted  with  the  secret  designs  of  the  French  and  Spanish  monarchs 
against  the  Protestants  in  their  dominions ;  and  he  resolved  from  that  hour  to 
devote  all  his  strength  to  expel  the  "  Spanish  vermin  "  from  the  Netherlands. 
One  must  not  infer  from  this,  however,  that  William  at  this  early  period  medi- 
tated the  design  of  shaking  off  the  rule  of  Spain  altogether.  The  object  he 
had  in  view  went  no  further  than  to  relieve  the  country  from  the  odious  pre- 
sence of  the  Spanish  troops  and  to  place  the  administration  in  those  hands  to 
which  it  rightfully  belonged.  They,  however,  who  set  a  revolution  in  motion 
have  not  always  the  power  to  stop  it.  If  they  can  succeed  in  giving  it  a 
direction,  they  will  probably  be  carried  forward  by  it  beyond  their  intended 
limits,  until,  gathering  confidence  with  success,  they  aim  at  an  end  far  higher 
than  that  which  they  nad  originally  proposed.  Such,  doubtless,  was  the  case 
with  William  of  Orange. 

Notwithstanding  the  emperor's  recommendation,  the  prince  of  Orange  was 
not  the  man  whom  Philip  selected  for  his  confidence.  Nor  was  it  possible  for 
William  to  regard  the  king  with  the  same  feelings  which  he  had  entertained 
for  the  emperor.  To  Charles  the  prince  was  under  obvious  obligations  for  his 
nurture  in  early  life.  His  national  pride,  too,  was  not  wounded  by  having  a 
Spaniard  for  a  sovereign,  since  Charles  was  not  by  birth,  much  less  in  heart, 
a  Spaniard.  All  this  was  reversed  in  Philip,  in  whom  William  saw  only  the 
representative  of  a  detested  race.  The  prudent  reserve  which  marked  the 
character  of  each,  no  doubt,  prevented  the  outward  demonstration  of  their 
sentiments ;  but  from  their  actions  we  may  readily  infer  the  instinctive  aver- 
sion which  the  two  parties  entertained  for  each  other. 

At  the  early  age  of  eighteen,  William  married  Anne  of  Egmont,  daughter  of 
the  count  of  Biiren.  The  connection  was  a  happy  one,  if  we  may  trust  the 
loving  tone  of  their  correspondence.  Unhappily,  in  a  few  years  their  union 
was  dissolved  by  the  lady's  death.  The  prince  did.  not  long  remain  a  widower 
before  he  made  proposals  to  the  daughter  of  the  duchess  of  Lorraine.  The 
prospect  of  such  a  match  gave  great  dissatisfaction  to  Philip,  who  had  no  mind 
to  see  his  Flemish  vassal  allied  with  the  family  of  a  great  feudatory  of  France.* 
Disappointed  in  this  quarter,  William  next  paid  his  addresses  to  Anne  of 
Saxony,  an  heiress  whose  targe  possessions  made  her  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
matches  in  Germany.  Williams  passion  and  his  interest,  it  was  remarked, 
kept  time  well  together. 

The  course  of  love,  however,  was  not  destined  to  run  smoothly  on  the  present 
occasion.  Anne  was  the  daughter  of  Maurice,  the  great  Lutheian  champion, 
the  implacable  enemy  of  Charles  the  Fifth.  Left  early  an  orphan,  she  had 
been  reared  in  the  family  of  her  uncle,  the  elector  of  Saxony,  in  the  strictest 
tenets  of  the  Lutheran  faith.  Such  a  connection  was,  of  course,  every  way 
distasteful  to  Philip,  to  whom  William  was  willing  so  far  to  defer  as  to  solicit 
his  approbation,  though  he  did  not  mean  to  be  controlled  by  it.8  The  corre- 
spondence on  the  subject,  in  which  both  the  regent  and  Granvelle  took  an 
active  part,  occupies  as  much  space  in  collections  of  the  period  as  more  impor- 
tant negotiations.  The  prince  endeavoured  to  silence  the  king's  scruples  by 

•  See  particularly  Margaret's  letter  to  the  king,  of  March  13th,  1560,  Correspondauce  do 
Marguerite  d'Autrkhe,  p.  260,  et  neq. 

•  [A*  Lorraine  wu  a  fief,  not  of  France,        the  fact  of  which.  Indeed,  though  prohaMo 
but  of  the  Empire,  tbU  cannot  have  been  the       enough  in  itsell.  rests  on  no  certain  evidence, 
ground  of  Philip's  opposition  to  the  match,       — E»  ] 


192  DISCONTENT  IN  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

declaring  that  he  was  too  much  a  Catholic  at  heart  to  marry  any  woman  who 
was  not  of  the  same  persuasion  as  himself,  and  that  he  had  received  assurances 
from  the  elector  that  his  wife  in  this  respect  should  entirely  conform  to  his 
wishes.  The  elector  had  scruples  as  to  the  match,  no  less  than  Philip,  though 
on  precisely  the  opposite  grounds ;  and,  after  the  prince's  assurance  to  the 
king,  one  is  surprised  to  find  that  an  understanding  must  have  existed  with 
the  elector  that  Anne  should  be  allowed  the  undisturbed  enjoyment  of  her  own 
religion.8  This  double-dealing  leaves  a  disagreeable  impression  in  regard  to 
William's  character.  Yet  it  does  not  seem,  to  judge  from  his  later  life,  to  be 
altogether  inconsistent  with  it.  Machiavelli  is  the  author  whom  he  is  said  to 
have  had  most  frequently  in  his  hand ; "  and  in  the  policy  with  which  he 
shaped  his  course  we  may  sometimes  fancy  that  we  can  discern  the  influence 
of  the  Italian  statesman. 

The  marriage  was  celebrated  with  great  pomp  at  Leipsic,  on  the  twenty-fifth 
of  August,  1561.  The  king  of  Denmark,  several  of  the  electors,  and  many 
princes  and  nobles  of  both  Germany  and  the  Low  Countries,  were  invited 
guests ;  and  the  whole  assembly  present  on  the  occasion  was  estimated  at 
nearly  six  thousand  persons.11  The  king  of  Spam  complimented  the  bride  by 
sending  her  a  jewel  worth  three  thousand  ducats.12  It  proved,  however,  as 
Qranvelle  bad  predicted,  an  ill-assorted  union.  After  living  together  for 
nearly  thirteen  years,  the  prince,  weary  of  the  irregularities  of  his  wife,  sepa- 
rated from  her,  and  sent  her  back  to  her  friends  in  Germany. 

During  his  residence  in  Brussels,  William  easily  fell  into  the  way  of  life 
followed  by  the  Flemish  nobles.  He  was  very  fond  of  the  healthy  exercise  of 
the  chase,  and  especially  of  hawking.  He  was  social,  indeed  convivial,  in  his 
habits,  after  the  fashion  of  his  countrymen,13  and  was  addicted  to  gallantries, 
which  continued  long  enough,  it  is  said,  to  suggest  an  apology  for  the  disor- 
derly conduct  of  his  wife.  He  occupied  the  ancient  palace  of  his  family  at 
Brussels,  where  he  was  surrounded  by  lords  and  cavaliers  and  a  numerous 
retinue  of  menials.1*  He  lived  in  great  state,  displaying  a  profuse  magnifi- 
cence hi  his  entertainments ;  and  few  there  were,  natives  or  foreigners,  who 
had  any  claim  on  his  hospitality,  that  did  not  receive  it1*  By  this  expensive 
way  of  life  he  encumbered  his  estate  with  a  heavy  debt,  amounting,  if  we  may 
take  Granvelle's  word,  to  nine  hundred  thousand  florins.1'  Yet,  if  William  s 
own  account,  but  one  year  later,  be  true,  the  debt  was  then  brought  within  a 
very  moderate  compass.17 

•  M.Groen  Van  Prinsterer  has  industriously  kitchen, — the  best  school  in  that  day  for  the 

collated  the  correspondence  of  the   several  noble  science  of  gastronomy, 
parties,  which  must  be  allowed  to  form  an  '*  "  Audivi  rem  domesticam  sic  splendide 

edifying  chapter  in  the  annals  of  matrimonial  habuisse  ut  at  ordinarium  domus  ministerium 

diplomacy.    See    Archives    de    la    Maison  baberet   24    Kobiles,    pueros   vero   Nobiles 

d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  i.  p.  202.  (Pagios  nominamus)  18."    Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

10  M^moires  de  Granvelle,  torn.  i.  p.  261.  "  "  Rei  domestic*  splendor,  famulorumque 

11  Raumer,  Hist.  Tascb., p.  109,ap.  Archives  et  asseclarum  multitude)  magnis  Principibus 
de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  i.  p.  115.  par.    Nee  ulla  toto  Belgio  sedes  hospitalior, 

11  Correspondence  de  Marguerited'Autriche,  ad  quam  frequentius  peregrini  Proceres  Lega- 

p.  284.  tique  diverterent,  exciperenturqne  magnifi- 

11  It  may  give  some  idea  of  the  scale  of  centius,  quam  Orangii  domus."    Strada,  De 

William's  domestic  establishment  to   state  Bello  Belgico,  p.  99. 

that,  on  reducing  it  to  a  more  economical  "  "  Le  prince  d'Orange,  qui  tient  un  grand 

standard,  twenty-eight  head-cooks  were  dis-  €tat  de  maison,  et  oiene  a  sa  suite  des  coratps, 

missed.    (Van  der  Haer,  De  Initiis  Tumult.,  des  barons  et  beaucoup  d'autres  gentilsuom- 

&182,  op.  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-  mes  d'Allemagne,  doit,  pour  lemoins,  900,000 

assau,  torn.   i.   p.   200*.)    The  same  con-  fl."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

temporary  tells  us  that  there  were  few  princes  p.  239. 

In  Germany  who  had  not  one  cook,  at  least,  "  In  January,  1564,  we  find  him  writ'ng  to 

that  had  served  an  apprenticeship  in  William's  his  brother,  "Puts  qu'il  ne  reste  que  &  XV. 


WILLIAM  OF  ORANGE.  103 

With  his  genial  habits  and  love  of  pleasure,  and  with  manners  the  most 
attractive,  he  had  not  the  free  and  open  temper  which  often  goes  along  with 
them.  He  was  called  by  his  contemporaries  "  William  the  Silent."  Perhaps 
the  epithet  was  intended  to  indicate  not  so  much  his  taciturnity,  as  that  im- 
penetrable reserve  which  locked  up  his  secrets  closely  within  his  bosom.  No 
man  knew  better  how  to  keep  his  counsel,  even  from  those  who  acted  with 
him.  But,  while  masking  his  own  designs,  no  man  was  more  sagacious  in 
penetrating  those  of  others.  He  carried  on  an  extensive  correspondence  in 
foreign  countries,  and  employed  every  means  for  getting  information.  Thus, 
while  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  outwit  others,  it  was  very  rare  that  he  became 
their  dupe.  Though  on  ordinary  occasions  frugal  of  words,  when  he  did  speak 
it  was  with  effect.  His  eloquence  was  of  the  most  persuasive  kind ; l8  and  as 
towards  his  inferiors  he  was  affable,  and  exceedingly  considerate  of  their  feel- 
ings, he  acquired  an  unbounded  ascendency  over  his  countrymen."  It  must 
be  admitted  that  the  prince  of  Orange  possessed  many  rare  qualities  for  the 
leader  of  a  great  revolution. 

The  course  William  took  in  respect  to  his  wife's  religion  might  lead  one  to 
doubt  whether  he  were  at  heart  Catholic  or  Protestant,  or  indeed  whether  he 
were  not  equally  indifferent  to  both  persuasions.  The  latter  opinion  might  be 
strengthened  by  a  remark  imputed  to  him,  that  "  he  would  not  have  his  wife 
trouble  herself  with  such  melancholy  books  as  the  Scriptures,  but  instead  of 
them  amuse  herself  with  Amadis  de  Gaul,  and  other  pleasant  writers  of  the 
kind."20  "The  prince  of  Orange,"  says  a  writer  of  the  time,  "passed  fora 
Catholic  among  Catholics,  a  Lutheran  among  Lutherans.  If  he  could,  he 
would  have  had  a  religion  compounded  of  both.  In  truth,  he  looked  on  the 
Christian  religion  like  the  ceremonies  which  Numa  introduced,  as  a  sort  of 
politic  invention."  *'  Granvelle,  in  a  letter  to  Philip,  speaks  much  to  the  same 
purpose."  These  portraits  were  by  unfriendly  hands.  Those  who  take  a  dif- 
ferent view  of  his  character,  while  they  admit  that  in  his  early  days  his 
opinions  in  matters  of  faith  were  unsettled,  contend  that  in  time  he  became 
sincerely  attached  to  the  doctrines  which  he  defended  with  his  sword.  This 
seems  to  be  no  more  than  natural.  But  the  reader  will  have  an  opportunity 
of  judging  for  himself,  when  he  has  followed  the  great  cliief  through  the 
changes  01  his  stormy  career. 

It  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  the  leader  in  a  religious  revolution  should 
have  been  himself  without  any  religious  convictions.  One  thing  is  certain,  he 
possessed  a  spirit  of  toleration,  the  more  honourable  that  in  that  day  it  was  so 

cens  florins  par  an,   quc    iwrons    bien  tost  *°  "  II  ne  I'occnperoit  point  de  ces  choses 

iK-ln  H'  des  debtes."    Archives  de  la  Maison  melancollques,  mais  il  lui  feroit  lire,  an  lieu 

d'Orange-NaAMu,  torn.  i.  p.  196.  des  Kaintes-Kcritureft,   Amadis  de  Oaule   ct 

'"  "II  estolt  d'une  eloquence  admirable,  d'autres  livrcs  amunants  du  meme  genre." 

avcc  laquelle  11  mettolt  en  Evidence  les  con-  Archive*  de  la  Malbon  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn, 

ceptiorm  sublime*  de  son  esprit,  et  faisoit  pi  er  i.  p.  203*. 

leu  aultrea  seigneurs  de  la  court,  «liiny  que  "'  "II  estolt  du  nombre  de  ceulx  qul  pen- 
bon  luy  sembloit."  Gacbard  (Correspundance  sent  que  la  religion  chrestienne  soil  une  ni- 
di- Guillaume  le  Tacitnrne,  torn,  ii.,  I'rvfac  o,  ventloii  politlque,  pour  contenlr  le  peuple  en 
p.  .1),  who  quotes  a  manuscript  of  the  nix-  office  p«r  volo  de  Dion,  nun  plusni  moiimqne 
t.-.-iiih  century,  preserved  in  the  lilir.iry  of  left  cereuioni  s,  divination*  et  superstitions 
Arras,  entitled  " Commencement  de  1'HUioire  quo  Numa  PumpilHn  introduWt  a  Home." 
dcs  Troubles  de»  l'ay*-Ras,  advonuz  snubs  le  Commencement  de  I'llist.  de*  Troubles,  MS., 
Gouvernenietit  de  Madame  la  Duchi-snu  de  aii.  fiat-hard,  Convspondance  de  Guillaume  lo 
IVin.  "  Trtciturnc,  torn,  ii.,  Preface,  p  5. 

'"••fljreBtolt  Klngulieremcnt  altne  et  bien  "  "TantAl  Catholique,  untot  Culvlnlste  oil 

rolla  de   la  commune,   pour  nne  gradeute  Lutheran  selon  !••«  dilT^rentps  oecu^ionx,  ct 

facon  de  faire  qu'il  avolt  de  salucr,  careswr  » Ion    SPS    divers    d.-sscins."     Mcmoires    de 

et  arraiiHiniicr   priv^ment  et   faniilierement  Oranvello,  torn.  II   p.  54. 
tout  le  monde."    Ibid.,  ubi  supr.i. 


194  OPPOSITION  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT. 

rare.  He  condemned  the  Calvinists  as  restless  and  seditious  ;  the  Catholics, 
for  their  bigoted  attachment  to  a  dogma.  Persecution  in  matters  of  faith  he 
totally  condemned,  for  freedom  of  judgment  in  such  matters  he  regarded  as  the 
inalienable  right  of  man.11  These  conclusions,  at  which  the  world,  after  an 
incalculable  amount  of  human  suffering,  has  been  three  centuries  in  arriving 
(has  it  altogether  arrived  at  them  yet  ?),  must  be  allowed  to  reflect  great  credit 
on  the  character  of  William. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OPPOSITION  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT. 

Grounds  of  Complaint — The  Spanish  Troops— The  New  Bishoprics— Influence  of  Qranvelle — 
Opposed  by  the  Nobles — His  Unpopularity. 

1559-1562. 

THE  first  cause  of  trouble,  after  Philip's  departure  from  the  Netherlands,  arose 
from  the  detention  of  the  Spanish  troops  there.  The  king  had  pledged  his 
word,  it  will  be  remembered,  that  they  should  leave  the  country  by  the  end  of 
four  months,  at  farthest.  Yet  that  period  had  long  since  passed,  and  no  pre- 
parations were  made  for  their  departure.  The  indignation  of  the  people  rose 
higher  and  higher  at  the  insult  thus  offered  by  the  presence  of  these  detested 
foreigners.  It  was  a  season  of  peace.  No  invasion  was  threatened  from 
abroad ;  no  insurrection  existed  at  home.  There  was  nothing  to  require  the 
maintenance  of  an  extraordinary  force,  much  less  of  one  composed  of  foreign 
troops.  It  could  only  be  that  the  king,  distrusting  his  Flemish  subjects, 
designed  to  overawe  them  by  his  mercenaries  in  sufficient  strength  to  enforce 
his  arbitrary  acts.  The  free  spirit  of  the  Netherlands  was  roused  by  these 
suggestions,  and  they  boldly  demanded  the  removal  of  the  Spaniards. 

Granvelle  himself,  who  would  willingly  have  pleased  his  master  by  retaining 
a  force  in  the  country  on  which  he  could  rely,  admitted  that  the  project  was 
impracticable.  "  The  troops  must  be  withdrawn,"  he  wrote,  "  and  that 
speedily,  or  the  consequence  will  be  an  insurrection." l  The  states  would  not 
consent,  he  said,  to  furnish  the  necessary  subsidies  while  they  remained.  The 

Erince  of  Orange  and  Count  Egmont  threw  up  the  commands  intrusted  to  them 
y  the  king.    They  dared  no  longer  hold  them,  as  the  minister  added,  it  was 
so  unpopular.2 

The  troops  had  much  increased  the  difficulty  by  their  own  misconduct. 
They  were-  drawn  from  the  great  mass,  often  the  dregs,  of  the  people;  and 
their  morals,  such  as  they  wereyhad  not  been  improved  in  the  life  of  the  camp. 
Howevej;^*trict  their  discipline  in  time  of  active  service,  it  was  greatly 
relaxed  in  their  present  state  of  inaction ;  and  they  had  full  license,  as  well  as 

"  "  Estirannt,  alnsy  que  falsoient  lors  beau-  agora  las  cosas  entrassen  en  alboroto."    Pa- 

conp  de  catholiques,  qne  c'esiolt  chose  cruelle  piers  d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  vi.  p.  166. 

de  fuire  mourir  ung  homme,  pour  settlement  2  "  Harto  se  declaran  y  elPrfnciped'Oranges 

avoir  soustenu  une  opinion,  jasoit  qu'elle  filt  y  Mons^  d'Egmont  que  aunque  tuviessen  la 

erronee."      MS.  quoted  by  (iachard,  Corre-  mayor  voluntad  del  mundo  para  servir  en  esto 

opondance  de  Guillaume  le  Taciturne,  torn,  ii.,  a.  V.  M.  de  tener  cargo  mas  tiempo  de  los 

Preface,  p.  4.  Espafioles,  no  lo  osarian  emprender  si  bol- 

1  "No  se  vee  que  puednn  quedar  aquf  mas  viessen,  por  no  perderse  y  su  credito  y  repu- 

tiemp   sin  grandissimo  peligro  de  que  dende  tacion  con  estos  cstados."    Ibid.,  p.  197. 


THE  NEW  BISHOPRICS.  195 

leisure,  to  indulge  their  mischievous  appetites,  at  the  expense  of  the  unfortu- 
nate districts  in  which  they  were  quartered. 

Yet  Philip  was  slow  in  returning  an  answer  to  the  importunate  letters  of 
the  regent  and  the  minister ;  and  when  he  did  reply  it  was  to  evade  their 
request,  lamenting  his  want  of  funds,  and  declaring  nis  purpose  to  remove  the 
forces  so  soon  as  he  could  pay  their  arrears.  The  public  exchequer  was 
undoubtedly  at  a  low  ebb ;  lower  in  Spain  than  in  the  Netherlands.*  But  no 
one  could  believe  the  royal  credit  so  far  reduced  as  not  to  be  able  to  provide 
for  the  arrears  of  three  or  four  thousand  soldiers.  The  regent,  however,  saw 
that,  with  or  without  instructions,  it  was  necessary  to  act.  Several  of  the 
members  of  the  council  became  sureties  for  the  payment  of  the  arrears,  and 
the  troops  were  ordered  to  Zealand,  in  order  to  embark  for  Spain.  But  the 
winds  proved  unfavourable.  Two  months  longer  they  were  detained,  on  shore 
or  on  board  the  transports.  They  soon  got  into  brawls  with  the  workmen 
employed  on  the  dikes ;  and  the  inhabitants,  still  apprehensive  of  orders  from 
the  king  countermanding  the  departure  of  the  Spaniards,  resolved,  in  such  an 
event,  to  abandon  the  dikes  and  lay  the  country  under  water  ! 4  Fortunately, 
they  were  not  driven  to  this  extremity.  In  January,  1561,  more  than  a  year 
after  the  date  assigned  by  Philip,  the  nation  was  relieved  of  the  presence  of 
the  intruders.* 

Philip's  conduct  in  this  affair  it  is  not  very  easy  to  explain.  However  much 
he  might  have  desired  originally  to  maintain  the  troops  in  the  Netherlands,  as 
an  armed  police  on  which  he  could  rely  to  enforce  the  execution  of  his  orders, 
it  had  become  clear  that  the  good  they  might  do  in  quelling  an  insurrection 
was  more  tlian  counterbalanced  by  the  probability  of  their  exciting  one.  It 
was  characteristic  of  the  king,  however,  to  be  slow  in  retreating  from  any 
position  he  had  taken  :  and,  as  we  shall  often  have  occasion  to  see,  there  was 
a  certain  apathy  or  sluggishness  in  his  nature,  which  led  him  sometimes  to 
leave  events  to  take  their  own  course,  rather  than  to  shape  a  course  for  them 
himself. 

This  difficulty  was  no  sooner  settled  than  it  was  followed  by  another  scarcely 
less  serious.  We  have  seen,  in  a  former  chapter,  the  arrangements  made  for 
adding  thirteen  new  bishoprics  to  the  four  already  existing  in  the  Nether- 
lands. The  measure,  in  itself  a  good  one  and  demanded  by  the  situation  of 
the  country,  was,  from  the  posture  of  affairs  at  that  time,  likely  to  meet  with 
opposition,  if  not  to  occasion  great  excitement.  For  this  reason,  the  whole 
attair  had  been  kept  profoundly  secret  by  the  government.  It  was  not  till  1561 
that  Philip  disclosed  nis  views,  in  a  letter  to  some  of  the  principal  nobles  in 
the  council  of  state.  But  long  before  that  time  the  project  had  taken  wind, 
and  created  a  general  sensation  through  the  country. 

The  people  looked  on  it  as  an  attempt  to  subject  them  to  the  same  eccle- 
siastical system  which  existed  in  Spain.  The  bishops,  by  virtue ^JTlheir  office, 
were  possessed  of  certain  inquisitorial  powers,  and  these  -were"'  still  further 

'  Some  notion  of  the  extent  of  these  embar-  for  all  usual  resources  are  exhausted."    This 

rammenu  may  be  formed  from  a  schedule  was   a   sad  legacy  entailed   on    the  young 

prepared  by  the  king's  own  hand,  in  Scpt«ni-  monarch  by  his  father's  ambition.    The  docu- 

ber,   1660.     From  this  It  appears  that  the  ment  Is  to  be  found  in  the  Papiere  d'£ut  do 

ordinary  sources  of  revenue    were  already  Urunvelle,  torn.  vi.  pp.  156-16S. 

ni<>rtt.MK'd,   and  that,  taking  into  view  all  '  "Diten   todos   Ion  de  aquella    Ma.    qno 

available   means,   there  was  reason  to  fear  aiitos  se  dcxariin  abogar  con   ellos,  que  do 

tin  re  would  be  a  deficiency  at  the  end  of  the  poner  la  mano  mas  adelante  en  el  rcparu  tan 

following  year  of  no  less  than  nine  millions  of  neccssario  de  los  diqurs."    Papirrs  d'£tat  de 

duc.it*.     "  Where  the  means  of  meeting  this  Uranvelle,  torn.  vi.  p.  200. 

are  to  come  trom,"  Philip  bitterly  remarks.  '  Correxpondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  p. 

"1  do  not  know,  unless  it  be  from  the  clouds,  192.— tttraOa,  De  Bello  Belgico,  p.  111. 


196  OPPOSITION  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT. 

enlarged  by  the  provisions  of  the  royal  edicts.  Philip's  attachment  to  the 
Inquisition  was  well  understood,  and  there  was  probably  not  a  child  in  the 
country  who  had  not  heard  of  the  auto  defe  which  he  had  sanctioned  by  his 
presence  on  his  return  to  his  dominions.  The  present  changes  were  regarded 
as  part  of  a  great  scheme  for  introducing  the  Spanish  Inquisition  into  the 
Netherlands.6  However  erroneous  these  conclusions,  there  is  little  reason  to 
doubt  they  were  encouraged  by  those  who  knew  their  fallacy. 

The  nobles  had  other  reasons  for  opposing  the  measure.  The  bishops  would 
occupy  in 'the  legislature  the  place  •formerly  held  by  the  abbots,  who  were 
indebted  for  their  election  to  the  religious  nouses  over  which  they  presided. 
The  new  prelates,  on  the  contrary,  would  receive  their  nomination  from  the 
crown  ;  and  the  nobles  saw  with  alarm  their  own  independence  menaced  by 
the  accession  of  an  order  of  men  who  would  naturally  be  subservient  to  the 
interests  of  the  monarch.  That  the  crown  was  not  insensible  to  these  advan- 
tages is  evident  from  a  letter  of  the  minister,  in  which  he  sneers  at  the  abbots, 
as  "  men  fit  only  to  rule  over  monasteries,  ever  willing  to  thwart  the  king, 
and  as  perverse  as  the  lowest  of  the  people." T 

But  the  greatest  opposition  arose  from  the  manner  in  which  the  new 
dignitaries  were  to  be  maintained.  This  was  to  be  done  by  suppressing  the 
offices  of  the  abbots,  and  by  appropriating  the  revenues  of  their  houses  to  the 
maintenance  of  the  bishops.  For  this  economical  arrangement  Granvelle 
seems  to  have  been  chiefly  responsible.  Thus,  the  income — amounting  to 
fifty  thousand  ducats — of  the  aobey  of  Afflighen,  one  of  the  wealthiest  in 
Brabant,  was  to  be  bestowed  on  the  archiepiscopal  see  of  Mechlin,  to  be  held 
by  the  minister  himself.8  In  virtue  of  that  dignity,  Granvelle  would  become 
primate  of  the  Netherlands. 

Loud  was  the  clamour  excited  by  this  arrangement  among  the  members  of 
the  religious  fraternities,  and  all  those  who  directly  or  indirectly  had  any 
interest  in  them.  It  was  a  manifest  perversion  of  the  funds  from  the  objects 
for  which  they  had  been  given  to  the  institutions.  It  was  interfering  with 
the  economy  of  these  institutions,  protected  by  the  national  charters ;  and 
the  people  of  Brabant  appealed  to  the  "Joyeuse  Entree"  Jurists  of  the 
greatest  eminence,  in  different  parts  of  Europe,  were  consulted  as  to  the 
legality  of  these  proceedings.  Thirty  thousand  florins  were  expended  by 
Brabant  alone  in  this  matter,  as  well  as  in  employing  an  agent  at  the  court 
of  Rome  to  exhibit  the  true  state  of  the  affair  to  his  holiness  and  to  counter- 
act the  efforts  of  the  Spanish  government.9 

The  reader  may  remember  that  just  before  Philip's  departure  from  the 
Netherlands  a  bull  arrived  from  Rome  authorizing  the  erection  of  the  new 
bishoprics.  This  was  but  the  initiatory  step.  Many  other  proceedings  were 
necessary  before  the  consummation  of  the  affair.  Owing  to  impediments 

•  "  Hase  con    industria   persuadido  &  los  d'Btat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  vl.  p.   18.  —  The 

.  pueblos  que  V.  M.  quiere  poner  aquf  a  ml  intention  of  the  crown  appear*  more  clearly 

instancia  la  Inquisicion  de  Espana  so  color  de  from  the  rather  frank  avowal  of  Granvelle 

los  nuevos  obispados."    Granvelle  to  Philip,  to  the  duchess  of  Parma,  made  indeed  some 

Papicrs  d'Ktat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  vi.  p.  654.  twenty  years  later,  1582,  that  it  was  a  great 

See  also  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  object  with  Philip  to  afford  a  counterpoise  in 

1.,  passim.  the  states  to  the  authority  of  William  and  his 

'  "  Los  qualea,  aunque  pueden  ser  &  propo-  associates.     A  rchives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange- 

sito  para  adroinistrar  SUB  abadias,  olvidan  el  Nassau,  torn.  viii.  p.  96. 

beneficio  recebido  del  principe  y  en  las  cosas  •  Papiera  d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  vi.  p. 

de  su  eervicio  y  beneflcio  comun  de  la  provin-  17. 

cia  son  durissimos,  y  tan  rudes  para  que  se  *  Vandervynckt,  Troubles  dcs  Pays -Has, 

les  pueda  persuadir  la  razon.como  seria  qual-  torn.  ii.  p.  71. 
quier  menor  hombre  del  pueblo."    Papiers 


INFLUENCE  OF  GRANVELLE.  197 

thrown  in  the  way  by  the  provinces,  and  the  habitual  tardiness  of  the  court 
of  Rome,  nearly  three  years  elapsed  before  the  final  briefs  were  expedited  by 
Pius  the  Fourth.  New  obstacles  were  raised  by  the  jealous  temper  of  the 
Flemings,  who  regarded  the  whole  matter  as  a  conspiracy  of  the  pope  and 
the  king  against  the  liberties  of  the  nation.  Utrecht,  Gueldres,  and  three 
other  places  refused  to  receive  their  bishops ;  *  and  they  never  obtained  a 
footing  there.  Antwerp,  which  was  to  have  been  made  an  episcopal  see,  sent 
a  commission  to  the  king  to  represent  the  ruin  this  would  bring  on  its  trade, 
from  the  connection  supposed  to  exist  between  the  episcopal  establishment 
and  the  Spanish  Inquisition.  For  a  year  the  king  would  not  condescend  to 
give  any  heed  to  the  remonstrance.  He  finally  consented  to  defer  the  decision 
of  the  question  till  his  arrival  in  the  country  ;  and  Antwerp  was  saved  from 
its  bishop." 

In  another  place  we  find  the  bishop  obtaining  an  admission  through  the 
management  of  Granvelle,  who  profited  by  the  temporary  absence  of  the 
nobles.  Nowhere  were  the  new  prelates  received  with  enthusiasm,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  wherever  they  were  admitted,  it  was  with  a  coldness  and  silence 
that  intimated  too  plainly  the  aversion  of  the  inhabitants.  Such  was  the 
cose  with  the  archbishop  of  Mechlin  himself,  who  made  his  entry  into  the 
capital  of  his  diocese  with  not  a  voice  to  cheer  or  to  welcome  him."  In  fact, 
everywhere  the  newly-elected  prelate  seemed  more  like  the  thief  stealthily 
climbing  into  the  fold,  than  the  good  shepherd  who  had  come  to  guard  it. 

Meanwhile,  the  odium  of  these  measures  fell  on  the  head  of  the  minister. 
No  other  man  had  been  so  active  in  enforcing  them,  and  he  had  the  credit 
universally  with  the  people  of  having  originated  the  whole  scheme  and  pro- 
posed it  to  the  sovereign.  But  from  this  Philip  expressly  exonerates  him  in 
a  letter  to  the  regent,  in  which  he  says  that  the  whole  plan  had  been  settled 
long  before  it  was  communicated  to  Granvelle.11  Indeed,  the  latter,  with 
some  show  of  reason,  demande  1  whether,  being  already  one  of  four  bishops 
iii  the  country,  he  should  be  likely  to  recommend  a  plan  which  would  make 
him  only  one  of  seventeen.1*  This  appeal  to  self-interest  did  not  wholly 
satisfy  those  who  thought  that  it  was  better  to  be  the  first  of  seventeen  than 
to  be  merely  one  of  four  where  all  were  equal. 

Whatever  may  have  been  Granvelle's  original  way  of  thinking  in  the  matter, 
it  w  certain  that,  whether  it  arose  from  his  accommodating  temper  or  from 
his  perceptions  of  the  advantajjes  of  the  scheme  being  quickened  oy  his  pro- 
spect of  the  primacy,  he  soon  devoted  himself,  heart  as  well  as  hand,  to  carry 
out  the  royal  views.  "  I  am  convinced,"  he  writes,  in  the  spring  of  1560,  to 
Philip's  secretary,  Perez,  "  that  no  measure  could  be  more  advantageous  to 
the  country,  or  more  necessary  for  the  support  of  religion  ;  and,  if  necessary 

10  Papiers  d'fitut  de  Hranvelle,  torn.  vl.  p.  "  Vandervynckt,  Troubles  des  Pays-Bats 

612. — Curr.  >i>  m, lance  de  I'hilippe  II.,  turn.  I.  torn.  it.  p.  77. 

p.  '261. — Mi-U-ren,  Hist,  des  Pays-rlaN,  fol.  51.  '*  "  Kn  ce  qui  concerne  lea  nouvcaux  e\v- 

—  By  another  arrangement  the  oM. nations  of  ches,  le  Koi  declare  qne  jatnais  Granvelle  no 

AfMiKhfii  and  the  other  abbeys  of  Hrabant  lni  en  conseilla  1'erectlon  ;  qu'il  en  til  im'me 

wre  commuted  for  [he  annual  payment  of  dans  le  principe  un  iuyster«  au  cardinal,  et 

•  Ulit  thousand  ducats  for  the  sup|>ort  of  the  que  cclul-ci  n 'client  con  nuissancequu  lorsque 

hi«hops.    Tula  agreement,  M  wrUM  tbtt  with  1  affaire    etait    dt-JA   bien    avance*."     Corrc- 

Antwerp.  was  afterward*  set  aside   by  the  spondunce  dc  I'll  llppe  11.,  torn.  i.  p.  207. 

iinn-ru  mlous  Alva.  who  fully  carried  out  the  "  Arctilvende  la  Maison  d'Urange-Namn, 

original  Intentions  of  the  crown.       .  torn.  vlii.  p.  64. 


*  [I'trocht  »as  one  of  the  original  bishop-        the  new  8ee«  :  the  name  Is  apparently  n  mis- 
fiis,  ereiled  Into  an  archbishopric  under  tlio        take  for  Uruiiingcn.— Ku.J 
n  •*  arrangement.     Uut-ldres  was  not  one  of 


193  OPPOSITION  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT. 

to  the  success  of  the  scheme,  I  would  willingly  devote  to  it  my  fortune  and 
my  life."  " 

Accordingly,  we  find  him  using  all  his  strength  to  carry  the  project  through, 
devising  expedients  for  raising  the  episcopal  revenues,  and  thus  occupying  a 
position  which  exposed  him  to  general  obloquy.  He  felt  this  bitterly,  and  at 
times,  even  with  all  his  constancy,  was  hardly  able  to  endure  it.  "  Though 
I  say  nothing,"  he  writes  in  the  month  of  September,  1561,  to  the  Spanish 
ambassador  in  Rome,  "  I  feel  the  danger  of  the  situation  in  which  the  king 
has  placed  me.  All  the  odium  of  these  measures  falls  on  my  head ;  and  I 
only  pray  that  a  remedy  for  the  evil  may  be  found,  though  it  should  be  by  the 
sacrifice  of  myself.  Would  to  God  the  erection  of  these  bishoprics  had  never 
been  thought  of  ! " ls 

In  February,  1561,  Granvelle  received  a  cardinal's  hat  from  Pope  Pius  the 
Fourth.  He  did  not  show  the  alacrity  usually  manifested  in  accepting  this 
distinguished  honour.  He  had  obtained  it  by  the  private  intercession  of  the 
dnofaeai  of  Parma  ;  and  he  feared  lest  the  jealousy  of  Philip  might  be  alarmed 
were  it  to  any  other  than  himself  that  his  minister  owed  this  distinction.  But 
the  king  gave  the  proceeding  his  cordial  sanction,  declaring  to  Granvelle  that 
the  reward  was  no  higher  than  his  desert. 

Thus  clothed  with  the  Roman  purple,  primate  of  the  Netherlands,  and  first 
minister  of  state,  Granvelle  might  now  look  down  on  the  proudest  noble  in 
the  land.  He  stood  at  the  head  of  both  the  civil  and  the  ecclesiastical 
administration  of  the  country.  All  authority  centred  in  his  person.  Indeed, 
such  had  been  the  organization  of  the  council  of  state  that  the  minister  might 
be  said  to  be  not  so  much  the  head  of  the  government  as  the  government 
itself. 

The  affairs  of  the  council  were  conducted  in  the  manner  prescribed  by 
Philip.  Ordinary  business  passed  through  the  hands  of  the  whole  body ;  but 
attairs  of  moment  were  reserved  for  the  cardinal  and  his  two  coadjutors  to 
settle  with  the  regent.  On  such  occasions  the  other  ministers  were  not  even 
summoned,  or,  if  summoned,  such  only  of  the  despatches  from  Spain  as  the 
minister  chose  to  communicate  were  read,  and  the  remainder  reserved  for  the 
coiisulta.  When,  as  did  sometimes  happen,  the  nobles  carried  a  measure  in 
opposition  to  Granvelle,  he  would  refer  the  whole  question  to  the  court  at 
Madrid."  By  this  expedient  he  gained  time  for  the  present,  and  probably 
obtained  a  decision  in  his  favour  at  last.  The  regent  conformed  entirely  to 
the  cardinal's  views.  The  best  possible  understanding  seems  to  have  subsisted 
between  them,  to  judge  from  the  tone  of  their  correspondence  with  Philip,  in 
which  each  of  the  parties  bestows  the  mast  unqualified  panegyric  on  the 
other.  Yet  there  was  a  strange  reserve  in  their  official  intercourse.  Even 
when  occupying  the  same  palace,  they  are  said  to  have  communicated  with 
each  other  by  writing."  The  reason  suggested  for  this  singular  proceeding 
is,  that  it  might  not  appear,  from  their  being  much  together,  that  the  regent 
was  acting  so  entirely  under  the  direction  of  the  minister.  It  is  certain  that 
both  Margaret  and  Granvelle  had  an  uncommon  passion  for  letter-writing,  as 
is  shown  by  the  length  and  number  of  their  epistles,  particularly  to  the  king. 
The  cardinal  especially  went  into  a  gossiping  minuteness  of  detail  to  which 
few  men  in  his  station  would  have  condescended.  But  his  master,  to  whom 

14  "  H  seralt  pret  a  y  contribuer  de  sa  for-  giefa  &  Dios  que  jamas  se  huviera  pensado  en 

tune,  de  son  sang etde  sapropra  vie."    Corre-  esta  erecciun  destas  yglesias;  amen,  amen." 

epondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1.  p.  189.  Archives    de    la  Maison    d'Orange  -  Nassau, 

14  "  Veo  el  odio  de  los  Estados  cargar  sobre  torn.  1.  p.  117. 

mi,  mas  pluguiesse  ti  Dios  que  con  sacrifl-  "  Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Bas,  fol.  63. 

cirme  fu.-sse  todo  remediado.  .  .  .  Que  plu-  "  Simla,  l)e  Bello  Bslgico,  p.  s8. 


OPPOSED  BY  THE  NOBLES.  199 

his  letters  at  this  period  were  chiefly  addressed,  had  the  virtue  of  patience  in 
an  extraordinary  degree,  as  is  evinced  by  the  faithful  manner  in  which  he 
persned  these  despatches  and  made  notes  upon  them  with  his  own  hand. 

The  minister  occupied  a  palace  in  Brussels,  and  had  another  residence  at  a 
short  distance  from  the  capital."  He  maintained  great  pomp  in  his  establish- 
ment, was  attended  by  a  large  body  of  retainers,  and  his  equipage  and  liveries 
were  distinguished  by  their  magnificence.  He  gave  numerous  banquets,  held 
large  levees,  and,  in  short,  assumed  a  state  in  his  manner  of  living  which 
corresponded  with  his  station  and  did  no  violence  to  his  natural  taste.  We 
may  well  believe  that  the  great  lords  of  the  country,  whose  ancestors  had  for 
centuries  filled  its  highest  places,  must  have  chafed  as  they  saw  themselves 
thrown  into  the  shade  by  one  whose  fortunes  had  been  thus  suddenly  forced  to 
this  unnatural  height  by  the  sunshine  of  royal  favour.  Their  indignation  was 
heightened  by  the  tricky  arrangement  which,  while  it  left  them  ciphers  in  the 
administration,  made  them  responsible  to  the  people  for  its  measures.  And  if 
the  imputation  to  Granvelle  of  arrogance,  in  the  pride  of  his  full-blown  for- 
tunes, was  warranted,  feelings  of  a  personal  nature  may  have  mingled  with 
those  of  general  discontent. 

But,  however  they  may  have  felt,  the  Flemish  lords  must  be  allowed  not  to 
have  been  precipitate  in  the  demonstration  of  their  feelings.  It  is  not  till 
1502  that  we  observe  the  cardinal,  in  his  correspondence  with  Spain,  noticing 
any  discourtesy  in  the  nobles  or  intimating  the  existence  of  any  misunder- 
standing with  them.  In  the  spring  of  the  preceding  year  we  find  the  prince 
of  Orange  "  commending  himself  cordially  and  affectionately  to  the  cardinal's 

food  will,"  and  subscribing  himself,  "  your  very  good  friend  to  command." 19 
n  four  months  after  this,  on  the  twenty-third  of  July,  we  have  a  letter  from 
this  "  very  good  friend "  and  Count  Egmont,  addressed  to  Philip.  In  this 
epistle  the  writers  complain  bitterly  of  their  exclusion  from  all  business  of 
importance  in  the  council  of  state.  They  were  only  invited  to  take  part  in 
deliberations  of  no  moment.  This  was  contrary  to  the  assurance  of  his  majesty 
when  they  reluctantly  accented  office ;  and  it  was  in  obedience  to  his  com- 
mands to  advise  him  if  tnis  should  occur  that  they  now  wrote  to  him.20 
Nevertheless,  they  should  have  still  continued  to  bear  the  indignity  in  silence, 
had  they  not  found  that  they  were  held  responsible  by  the  people  for  measures 
in  which  they  had  no  share.*1  Considering  the  arrangement  Philip  had  made 
for  the  cvnsulta,  one  has  little  reason  to  commend  his  candour  in  tins  transac- 
tion, and  not  much  to  praise  his  |>olicy.  As  he  did  not  redress  the  evil,  his 
implied  disavowal  of  being  privy  to  it  would  hardly  go  for  anything  with  the 
injured  party.  In  his  answer,  Philip  thanked  the  nobles  for  their  zeal  in  his 
service,  and  promised  to  reply  to  them  more  at  large  on  the  return  of  Count 
Hoorne  to  Flanders.** 

There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  Granvelle  was  ever  acquainted  with  the 
fact  of  the  letter  having  been  written-by  the  two  lords.  The  privilege  claimed 
by  the  novelist,  who  looks  over  the  shoulders  of  his  heroes  and  heroines  when 
they  are  inditing  their  episttes,  is  also  enjoyed  by  the  historian.  With  the 

"  Vandervynckt,  Troubles  des   Pays-Baa,  it  an  a  mere  suspicion  on  their  part.    (See 

torn.  II.  p.  52.  Correspondence  de  tiulllaume  le  Tuciturne, 

"  Corre«pondance  de  Gulllaume   le  Taci-  torn,  ii.,  I'reface,  p.  ix.)  The  course  of  tilings 

tnrne,  torn.  II.  p.  15.  under  the  present  regency  may  be  thought  lo 

*°  The  nobles,  it  appears,  had  complain*  d  show  there  was  guod  ground  for  this  MI— 

to  Philip  that  they  had  been  made  to  a*  l  this  piclon. 

unworthy  part  In  the  cabinet  of  the  duke  of          "  Correapondance  de  Philippe  II..  torn.  I. 

Savoy,   when    Regent    of   the    Netherlands,  p.  195. 

Uranvelle,  singularly  enough,  notices  this  In  •'  (.'orrespondancc  dc  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I. 

a  letu-r  to  tin-  Urgent  Mary,  in  1655,  treating 


200  OPPOSITION  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT. 

materials  rescued  from  the  mouldering  archives  of  the  past,  he  can  present 
the  reader  with  a  more  perfect  view  of  the  motives  and  opinions  of  the  great 
actors  in  the  drama  three  centuries  ago,  than  they  possessed  in  respect  to  one 
another.  This  is  particularly  true  of  the  period  before  us,  when  the  correspon- 
dence of  the  parties  interested  was  ample  in  itself,  and,  through  the  care  taken 
of  it  in  public  and  private  collections,  has  been  well  preserved.  Such  care 
was  seldom  bestowed  on  historical  documents  of  this  class  before  the  sixteenth 
century. 

It  is  not  till  long — nearly  a  year— after  the  date  of  the  preceding  letter  that 
anything  appears  to  intimate  the  existence  of  a  coldness,  much  less  of  an 
open  rupture,  between  Granvelle  and  the  discontented  nobles.  Meanwhile, 
trie  religious  troubles  in  France  had  been  fast  gathering  to  a  head  ;  and  the 
opposite  factions  ranged  themselves  under  the  banners  of  their  respective 
chiefs,  prepared  to  decide  the  question  by  arms.  Philip  the  Second,  who 
stood  forth  as  the  champion  of  Catholicism,  not  merely  in  his  own  dominions 
but  throughout  Christendom,  watched  with  anxiety  the  struggle  going  forward 
in  the  neighbouring  kingdom.  It  had  the  deeper  interest  for  nim  from  its 
influence  on  the  Low  Countries.  His  Italian  possessions  were  sef tatated  from 
France  by  the  Alps  ;  his  Spanish,  by  the  Pyrenees.  But  no  such  mountain- 
barrier  lay  between  France  and  Flanders.  They  were  not  even  separated,  in 
the  border  provinces,  by  difference  of  language.  Every  shock  given  to  France 
must  necessarily  be  felt  in'the  remotest  corner  of  the-,  Netherlands.  Granvelle 
was  so  well  aware  of  this  that  he  besought  the  king  IK>  keep  an  eye  on  his 
French  neighbours  and  support  them  in  the  maintenance  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion.  "  That  they  should  be  maintained  in  this  is  quite  as  impor- 
tant to  us  as  it  is  to  them.  Many  here,"  he  adds,  "  would  be  right  glad  to  see 
affairs  go  badly  for  the  Catholics  in  that  kingdom.  No  noble  among  us  has  as 
yet  openly  declared  himself.  Should  any  one  do  so,  God  only  could  save  the 
country  from  the  fate  of  France."  *3 

Acting  on  these  hints,  and  conformably  to  his  own  views,  Philip  sent  orders 
to  the  regent  to  raise  two  thousand  men  and  send  them  across  the  borders  to 
support  the  French  CatholicfC-atfhe  orders  met  with  decided  resistance  in  the 
council  of  state.  The  great  Flemish  lords,  at  this  time,  must  have  affected,  if 
they  did  not  feel,  devotion  to  the  established  religicn.  But  they  well  knew 
there  was  too  large  a  leaven  of  heresy  in-the  coimtry  to  njake  these  orders 
palatable.  They  felt  no  desire,  moreover,  thus  unriSeesl&rily  to  mix  themselves 
up  with  the  feuds  of  France.  They  represented  that  tire  -troops  could  not 
safely  be  dispensed  with  in  the  present  state  of  feeling  at  home,  and  that  if 
they  marched  against  the  Protestants  of  France  the  German  Protestants 
might  be  expected  to  march  against  them. 

Granvelle,  on  the  other  hand,  >y.ould  have  enforced  the  ordeF»"«Whilip,  as 
essential  to  the  security -of  flie*t?etherlands  themselves.  Margaret,  thus 
pressed  by  the  opposite  parties,  felt  the  'embarrassment  jof  either  course.  The 
alternative  presente"SLwas  that  of  disobeying  the  kingj  or  of  incurring  the 
resentment,  perhaps  the  resistance,  of  the  nation.  Orange  and  Egmont 
besought  her  to  convoke  the  states-general,  as  the  only  .safe  counsellors  in  such 
an  emergency.  The  states  had  often  teen  convened  on  matters  of  less 
moment  by  the  former  regent,  Mary  of  Hungary.  But  the  cardinal  had  no 

u  "  Que  bien  claro  muestran  muchos  que  haya  doclarado,  que  si  lo  hlziora  alguno,  otro 

no  les  pesaria  de  que  fuessen  nial,  y  que,  si  lo  que  Dios  no  pudiera  estorvar  que  lo  de  nqui 

de  alH  diesse  al  traves,  bien  brevemerite  se  no  siguiera  el  catnino  de  Franria."      Curra- 

ym  por  ac;l  el  mismo  camino.    Y  ha  sido  spoiaUnce  de  Philippe  II.,  turn.  i.  p.  230. 
muestra  dicha,  que  ninguno  destoa  srfiores  se 


OPPOSED  BY  THE  NOBLES.  20) 

mind  to  invoke  the  interference  of  that  "mischievous  animal,  the  people."21 
He  had  witnessed  a  convocation  of  the  states  previous  to  the  embarkation 
of  Philip  ;  and  he  had  not  forgotten  the  independent  tone  then  assumed  by 
that  body.  It  had  been,  indeed,  the  last  injunction  of  the  king  to  his  sister 
on  no  account  to  call  a  meeting  of  the  national  legislature  till  his  return  to  the 
country. 

But  while  on  this  ground  Margaret  refused  to  summon  the  states-general, 
she  called  a  meeting  of  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  to  whom  she  was  to 
apply  for  counsel  on  extraordinary  occasions.  The  knights  of  the  order  con- 
sisted of  persons  of  the  highest  consideration  in  the  country,  including  the 
governors  of  the  provinces.  In  May,  1562,  they  assembled  at  Brussels. 
Before  meeting  in  public,  the  prince  of  Orange  invited  them  to  a  conference 
in  his  own  palace.  He  there  laid  before  them  the  state  of  the  country,  and 
endeavoured  to  concert  with  the  members  some  regular  system  of  resistance 
to  the  exclusive  and  arbitrary  course  of  the  minister.  Although  no  definite 
action  took  place  at  that  time,  most  of  those  present  would  seem  to  have  fallen 
in  with  the  views  of  the  prince.  There  were  some,  however,  who  took  opposite 
ground,  and  who  declared  themselves  content  with  Granvelle  and  not  disposed 
to  prescribe  to  their  sovereign  the  choice  of  his  ministers.  The  foremost  of 
these  were  the  duke  of  Aerschot,  a  zealous  Catholic,  and  Count  Barlaimont, 
president  of  the  council  of  finance,  and,  as  we  have  already  seen,  altogether 
devoted  to  the  minister.  This  nobleman  communicated  to  Margaret  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  meeting  in  the  prince's  palace  ;  and  the  regent  was  careful  to 
give  the  knights  of  the  order  such  incessant  occupation  during  the  remainder 
of  their  stav  in  the  capital  as  to  afford  the  prince  of  Orange  no  opportunity  of 
pursuing  his  scheme  of  agitation." 

Before  the  assembly  of  the  Golden  Fleece  had  been  dissolved,  it  was  decided 
to  send  an  envoy  to  the  king,  to  lay  before  him  the  state  of  the  country,  both 
in  regard  to  the  religious  excitement,  much  stimulated  in  certain  quarters  by 
the  condition  of  France,  and  to  the  financial  embarrassments,  which  now 
pressed  heavily  on  the  government.  The  person  selected  for  the  office  was 
Florence  de  Montmorency,  lord  of  Montigny,  A  cavalier  who  had  the  boldness 
to  avow  his  aversion  to  any  interference  with  the  rights  of  conscience,  and 
whose  sympathies,  it  will  be  believed,  were  not  on  the  side  of  the  minister. 

Soon  after  his  departure,  the  vexed  question  of  aid  to  France  was  settled  in 
the  council  by  commuting'  personal  service  for  money.  It  was  decided  to  raise 
a  subsidy  of  fifty  thousand  crowns,  to  be  remitted  at  once  to  the  French 
government.*' 

Montigny  reached  Spain  in  June,  1562.  He  was  graciously  received  by 
Philip,  who,  in  a  protracted  audience,  gathered  from  him  a  circumstantial 
account  of  the  condition  of  the  Netherlands.  In  answer  to  the  royal  queries, 
the  envoy  also  exposed  the  misunderstanding  which  existed  between  the 
minister  and  the  nobles.  -' 

But  the  duchess  of  Parma  did  not  trust  this  delicate  affair  to  the  representa- 
tions of  Montigny.  She  wrote  herself  to  her  brother,  in  Italian,  which,  when 
she  would  give  her  own  views  on  matters  of  importance,  she  used  instead  of 
French,  ordinarily  employed  by  the  secretaries.  In  Italian  she  expressed 
herself  with  the  greatest  fluency,  and  her  letters  in  that  language,  tor  the 
purpose  of  secrecy,  were  written  with  her  own  hand. 

••  "Ce  niiVliant  animal  nommd  le  peuple,"  ••  Slra<U,  De  Hollo  Relglco,  p.  145.— Corre- 

— the  cardinal's  own  «ordn  in  a  letter  to  tho  spondanw  d>-  Philippe  II,  turn.  I.  p  202. 

king.    Currrtipondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  •*  Correspondance  dc  Philippe  II.,  tuui.  I. 

P-  »»0.  pp.  210,  214. 


202  OPPOSITION  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT. 

The  duchess  informed  the  king  of  the  troubles  that  had  arisen  with  the 
nobles  ;  charging  Orange  and  Egmont,  especially,  as  the  source  of  them.  She 
accused  them  of  maliciously  circulating  rumours  that  the  cardinal  had  advised 
Philip  to  invade  the  country  with  an  armed  force  and  to  cut  off  the  heads  of 
some  five  or  six  of  the  principal  malecontents."  She  paid  a  high  tribute  to 
the  minister's  loyalty  and  his  talent  for  business  ;  and  she  besought  the  king 
to  disabuse  Montigny  in  respect  to  the  common  idea  of  a  design  to  introduce 
the  Spanish  Inquisition  into  the  country  and  to  do  violence  to  its  institutions. 

The  war  was  now  openly  proclaimed  between  the  cardinal  and  the  nobles. 
Whatever  decorum  might  be  preserved  in  their  intercourse,  there  was  no 
longer  any  doubt  as  to  the  hostile  attitude  in  which  they  were  hereafter  to 
stand  in  respect  to  each  other.  In  a  letter  written  a  short  time  previous  to 
that  of  the  regent,  the  cardinal  gives  a  brief  view  of  his  situation  to  the  king. 
The  letter  is  written  in  the  courageous  spirit  of  one  who  does  not  shrink  from 
the  dangers  that  menace  him.  After  an  observation  intimating  no  great  con- 
fidence m  the  orthodoxv  of  the  prince  of  Orange,  he  remarks,  "  Though  the 
Erince  shows  me  a  friendly  face,  when  absent  he  is  full  of  discontent.  They 
ave  formed  a  league  against  me,"  he  continues,  "  and  threaten  my  life.  But 
I  have  little  fear  on  that  score,  as  I  think  they  are  much  too  wise  to  attempt 
any  such  thing.  They  complain  of  my  excluding  them  from  office  and  en- 
deavouring to  secure  an  absolute  authority  for  your  majesty.  All  which  they 
repeat  openly  at  their  banquets,  with  no  good  effect  on  the  people.  Yet  never 
were  there  governors  of  the  provinces  who  possessed  so  much  power  as  they 
have,  or  who  had  all  appointments  more  completely  in  their  own  hands.  In 
truth,  their  great  object  is  to  reduce  your  majesty  and  the  regent  to  the  con- 
dition of  mere  ciphers  in  the  government." 

"  They  refuse  to  come  to  my  table,"  he  adds,  "  at  which  I  smile.  I  find 
guests  enough  in  the  gentry  of  the  country,  the  magistrates,  and  even  the 
worthy  burghers  of  the  city,  whose  good  will  it  is  well  to  conciliate  against  a 
day  of  trouble.  These  evils  I  bear  with  patience,  as  I  can.  For  adversity  is 
sent  by  the  Almighty,  who  will  recompense  those  who  suffer  for  religion  and 
justice."  The  cardinal  was  fond  of  regarding  himself  in  the  light  of  a  martyr. 

He  concludes  this  curious  epistle  with  beseeching  the  king  to  come  soon  to 
the  Netherlands,—"  to  come  well  attended,  and  with  plenty  of  money ;  since, 
thus  provided,  he  will  have  no  lack  of  troops,  if  required  to  act  abroad,  while 
his  presence  will  serve  to  calm  the  troubled  spirits  at  home."  **  The  politic 
minister  says  nothing  of  the  use  that  might  be  made  of  these  troops  at  nome. 
Such  an  intimation  would  justify  the  charges  already  brought  against  him.  He 
might  safely  leave  his  master  to  make  that  application  for  himself. 

In  December,  1562,  Montigny  returned  from  his  mission,  and  straightway 
made  his  report  to  the  council  of  state.  He  enlarged  on  the  solicitude  whicn 
Philip  had  shown  for  the  interests  of  the  country.  Nothing  had  been  further 
from  his  mind  than  to  introduce  into  it  the  Spanish  Inquisition.  He  was  only 
anxious  to  exterminate  the  growing  heresy  from  the  land,  and  called  on  those 
in  authority  to  aid  in  the  good  work  with  all  their  strength.  Finally,  though 
pressed  by  want  of  funds,  he  promised,  so  soon  as  he  could  settle  his  affairs  in 
Spain,  to  return  to  Flanders.  It  was  not  unusual  for  Philip  to  hold  out  the 
idea  of  his  speedy  return  to  the  country.  The  king's  gracious  reception  seems 

"  "  A  qui  ils  imputent  d'avoir  ecrit  au  Rot  credito,  que  con  csto  no  fnltara  gente  pan  lo 

qu'il  fallait  couper  une  demi-douzaine  de  que  se  huviesse  de  hazer  con  loe  vezinos.  y  su 

teles,  et  venir  en  force,  pour  conquerir  le  presencia  valdra  mucho  para  assosscRar  t<«lo 

pays."  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  lo  de  sus  subditos."  Paplers  d'fiiat  de  Gran- 

i.  p.  203.  velle,  torn.  vi.  p.  562. 

**  ••  Lo  principal  es  que  venga  con  dlnero  y 


RESISTANCE  TO  THE  EDICTS.  203 

to  have  had  some  effect  on  Montigny.  At  all  events,  he  placed  a  degree  of 
confidence  in  the  royal  professions  in  which  the  skeptical  temper  of  William 
was  far  from  acquiescing.  He  intimated  as  much  to  his  friend,  and  the  latter, 
not  relishing  the  part  of  a  dupe,  which  the  prince's  language  seemed  to  assign 
to  him,  retorted  in  an  angry  manner ;  and  something  like  an  altercation  took 
place  between  the  two  lords,  in  the  presence  of  the  duchess.  At  least,  such  is 
the  report  of  the  historians.29  But  historians  in  a  season  of  faction  are  not  the 
best  authorities.  In  the  troubles  before  us  we  have  usually  a  safer  guide  in 
the  correspondence  of  the  actors. 

By  Montigny  despatches  were  also  brought  from  Philip  for  the  duchess  of 
Parma.  They  contained  suggestions  as  to  her  policy  in  reference  to  the 
factious  nobles,  whom  the  king  recommended  to  her,  if  possible,  to  divide  by 
sowing  the  seeds  of  jealousy  among  them.**  Egmont  was  a  stanch  Catholic, 
loyal  in  his  disposition,  ambitious,  and  vain.  It  would  not  be  difficult  to 
detach  him  from  his  associates  by  a  show  of  preference  which,  while  it  flattered 
his  vanity,  would  excite  in  them  jealousy  and  distrust 

In  former  times  there  had  been  something  of  these  feelings  betwixt  Egmont 
and  the  prince  of  Orange.  At  least  there  had  teen  estrangement.  This  might 
in  some  degree  be  referred  to  the  contrast  in  their  characters.  Certainly  no 
two  characters  could  be  more  strongly  contrasted  with  each  other.  Egmont, 
frank,  fiery,  impulsive  in  his  temper,  had  little  in  common  with  the  cool, 
cautious,  and  calculating  William.  The  showy  qualities  of  the  former,  lying 
on  the  surface,  more  readily  caught  the  popular  eye.  There  was  a  depth  in 
William's  character  not  easy  to  be  fathomed, — an  habitual  reserve,  which  made 
it  difficult  even  for  those  who  knew  him  best  always  to  read  him  right.  Yet 
the  coolness  between  these  two  nobles  may  have  arisen  less  from  difference  of 
character  than  from  similarity  of  position.  Both,  by  their  rank  and  services, 
took  the  foremost  ground  in  public  estimation,  so  that  it  was  scarcely  possible 
they  should  not  jostle  each  other  in  the  career  of  ambition.  But,  however 
divided  formerly,  they  were  now  too  closely  united  by  the  pressure  of  external 
circumstances  to  be  separated  by  the  subtle  policy  of  Philip.  Under  the  in- 
fluence of  a  common  disgust  with  the  administration  and  its  arbitrary  measures, 
they  continued  to  act  in  concert  together,  and  in  their  union  derived  benefit 
from  the  very  opposition  of  their  characters.  For  what  better  augury  of 
success  than  that  afforded  by  the  union  of  wisdom  in  council  with  boldness  in 
execution  ? 

The  consequences  of  the  troubles  in  France,  as  had  been  foreseen,  were  soon 
visible  in  the  Low  Countries.  The  Protestants  of  that  time  constituted  a  sort 
of  federative  republic,  or  rather  a  great  secret  association,  extending  through 
the  different  parts  of  Europe,  but  so  closely  linked  together  that  a  blow  struck 
in  one  quarter  instantly  vibrated  to  every  other.  The  Calvinists  in  the  border 
provinces  of  the  Low  Countries  felt,  in  iMirticular,  great  sympathy  with  the 
movements  of  their  French  brethren.  Many  Huguenots  took  shelter  among 
them.  Others  came  to  propagate  their  doctrines.  Tracts  in  the  French 
tongue  were  distributed  and  read  with  avidity.  Preachers  harangued  in  the 
conventicles  ;  and  the  people,  by  hundreds  and  thousands,  openly  assembled, 
:ui'l,  marching  in  procession,  clianted  the  Psalms  of  David  in  the  translation 
of  Marot." 

••  Vandprvynckt,  Trouble*  de*   1'ats-Bas,  "that  ^ranvelle  ever  recommended  me  to  cut 

torn  II.  p.  91.— Mtmnlre*  de  liranvelie.  torn.  off  half  «  ilo/.-n  heads.     Though."  addn  tin- 

It.  p.  24, — a  duubtful  authority,  It  must  be  monarch,  ••  ll  may  perhaps  be  wi-ll  enough  to 

•duilttfd.  have  recount  to  this  meanure."    Com-spon- 

~  "It  Is  not  tnie,"  I'hillp  remarks.  In  a  dance  tie  I'lullp]...  II..  torn.  I.  p.  2'IT. 

Lttor  to  the  duchess  dated  July  17th,  1562,  "  Strada,  I)u  Ik-llo  Belgico,  pp.  7s,  79.  133, 


204  OPPOSITION  TO  THE  GOVERNMENT. 

This  open  defiance  of  the  edicts  called  for  the  immediate  interposition  of  the 
government.  At  Tournay  two  Calvinist  preachers  were  arrested,  and,  after  a 
regular  trial,  condemned  and  burned  at  the  stake.  In  Valenciennes  two  others 
were  seized,  in  like  manner,  tried,  and  sentenced  to  the  .same  terrible  punish- 
ment. But  as  the  marquis  of  Bergen,  the  governor  of  the  province,  had  left 
the  place  on  a  visit  to  a  distant  quarter,  the  execution  was  postponed  till  bis 
return.  Seven  months  thus  passed,  when  the  regent  wrote  to  the  marquis, 
remonstrating  on  his  unseasonable  absence  from  his  post  He  had  the  spirit 
to  answer  that  "  it  neither  suited  his  station  nor  his  character  to  play  the  part 
of  an  executioner." 32  The  marquis  of  Bergen  had  early  ranged  himself  on  the 
side  of  the  prince  of  Orange,  and  he  is  repeatedly  noticed  by  Granvelle,  in  his 
letters,  as  the  most  active  of  the  malcontents.  It  may  well  be  believed  he 
was  no  friend  to  the  system  of  persecution  pursued  by  the  government.  Urged 
by  Granvelle,  the  magistrates  of  the  city  at  length  assumed  the  office  of  con- 
ducting the  execution  themselves.  On  the  day  appointed,  the  two  martyis 
were  escorted  to  the  stake.  The  funeral  pile  was  prepared,  and  the  torch  was 
about  to  be  applied,  when,  at  a  signal  from  one  of  the  prisoners,  the  multitude 
around  broke  in  upon  the  place  of  execution,  trampled  down  the  guards  and 
officers  of  justice,  scattered  the  fagots  collected  for  the  sacrifice,  and  liberated 
the  victims.  Then,  throwing  themselves  into  a  procession,  they  paraded  the 
streets  of  the  city,  singing  their  psalms  and  Calvinistic  hymns. 

Meanwhile  the  officers  of  justice  succeeded  in  again  arresting  the  unfortu- 
nate men  and  carrying  them  back  to  prison.  But  it  was  not  long  before  their 
friends,  assembling  in  greater  numbers  than  before,  stormed  the  fortress, 
forced  the  gates,  and,  rescuing  the  prisoners,  carried  them  off  in  triumph. 

These  high-handed  measures  caused,  as  may  be  supposed,  great  indignation 
at  the  court  of  the  regent.  She  instantly  ordered  a  levy  or  three  thousand 
troops,  and,  placing  them  under  the  marquis  of  Bergen,  sent  them  against  the 
insurgents.  The  force  was  such  as  to  overcome  all  resistance.  Arrests  were 
made  in  great  numbers,  and  the  majesty  of  the  law  was  vindicated  by  the 
trial  and  punishment  of  the  ringleaders.** 

"  Rigorous  and  severe  measures,"  wrote  Philip,  "  are  the  only  ones  to  be 
employed  in  matters  of  religion.  It  is  by  fear  only  that  the  rabble  " — meaning 
by  this  the  Reformers — "  can  be  made  to  do  their  duty,  and  not  always 
then."  *4  This  liberal  sentiment  found  less  favour  in  the  Low  Countries  than 
in  Spain.  "  One  must  ponder  well,"  writes  the  cardinal  to  Perez,  the  royal 
secretary,  "  before  issuing  those  absolute  decrees,  which  are  by  no  means  as 
implicitly  received  here  as  they  are  in  Italy."  *s  The  Fleming  appealed  to  his 
laws,  and,  with  all  the  minister's  zeal,  it  was  found  impossible  to  move  forward 
at  the  fiery  pace  of  the  Spanish  Inquisition. 

"  It  would  raise  a  tumult  at  once,"  he  writes,  "  should  we  venture  to  arrest 
a  man  without  the  clearest  evidence.  No  man  can  be  proceeded  against  with- 
out legal  proof."  *6  But  an  insurmountable  obstacle  in  the  way  of  enforcing 
the  cruel  edicts  lay  in  the  feelings  of  the  nation.  No  law  repugnant  to  such 

134.  —  Rfnom    de     Francia,    Alborotog   de  "  "  Kn  las  [cosas]  de  la  religion  no  se  $ufre 

Flandes,  MS. — Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Has,  temporizar,  sino  castiparlas  con  todo  rigor  y 

fol.  31,  :.2.  Beverid«d,  que  estos  villttcos  cino  es  por  miedo 

**  "Qu'il  n'e'toit  nl  de  son  caractere  ni  de  no  hazen  cosa  bucna.  y  aim  con  £1,  no  todas 

son    honnonr  d'etre   le  Rourreau  des  Here-  vezes."     Papiers  d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  vi. 

tiques."     Meuioires  de  Grauvelle,  torn.  i.  p.  p.  421. 

30 1.  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belffico,  pp.  136.  13'.—  p.  207. 

Renom  de  Frnncia,  Altxirotos  de  Klandcs.  MS.  "  Papiers  d'Ktat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  vi.  p. 

— Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Ixnv  Countries,  2bJ. 
vol.  i.  pp.  137,  138. 


GRANVELLE'S  UNPOPULARITY.  205 

feelings  can  long  be  executed.  "  I  accuse  none  of  the  nobles  of  being  heretics," 
writes  the  regent  to  her  brother  ;  "  but  they  show  little  zeal  in  the  cause  of 
religion,  while  the  magistrates  shrink  from  their  duty  from  fear  of  the 
people."*7  "How  absurd  is  it,"  exclaims  Granvelle,  "for  depositions  to  be 
taken  before  the  Inquisition  in  Spain,  in  order  to  search  out  heretics  in 
Antwerp,  where  thousands  are  every  day  walking  about  whom  no  one  meddles 
with  ! "  **  "  It  is  more  than  a  year,"  he  says,  "  since  a  single  arrest  on  a 
charge  of  heresy  has  taken  place  in  that  city."  *•  Yet,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  state  of  persecution  at  the  present  time,  the  vague  dread  of  the 
future  must  have  taken  strong  hold  of  people's  minds,  if ,  as  a  contemporary 
writes,  there  were  no  less  than  eighteen  or  twenty  thousand  refugees  then  in 
England  who  had  fled  from  Flanders  for  the  sake  of  their  religion.40 

The  odium  of  this  persecution  all  fell  on  the  head  of  Granvelle.  He  was 
the  tool  of  Spain.  Spain  was  under  the  yoke  of  the  Inquisition.  Therefore 
it  was  clearly  the  minister's  design  to  establish  the  Spanish  Inquisition  over 
the  Netherlands.  Such  was  the  concise  logic  by  whicn  the  people  connected 
the  name  of  Granvelle  with  that  of  the  most  dreaded  of  tribunals.41  He  was 
held  responsible  for  the  contrivance  of  the  most  unpopular  measures  of  govern- 
ment as  well  as  for  their  execution.  A  thousand  extravagant  stories  were 
circulated  both  of  his  private  and  his  political  life,  which  it  is  probably  doing 
no  injustice  to  the  nobles  to  suppose  they  did  not  take  much  pains  to  correct. 
The  favourite  of  the  prince  is  rarely  the  favourite  of  the  people.  But  no 
minister  had  ever  been  so  unpopular  as  Granvelle  in  the  Netherlands.  He 
was  hated  by  the  nobles  for  his  sudden  elevation  to  power,  and  for  the  servile 
means,  as  they  thought,  by  which  he  hadnisen  to  it.  The  people  hated  him 
because  he  used  that  power  for  the  ruin  of  their  liberties.  No  administration 
— none,  certainly,  if  we  except  that  of  the  iron  Alva— was  more  odious  to  the 
nation. 

Notwithstanding  Granvelle's  constancy,  and  the  countenance  he  received 
from  the  regent  and  a  few  of  the  leading  councillors,  it  was  hard  to  bear  up 
under  this  load  of  obloquy.  He  would  gladly  have  had  the  king  return  to  the 
country  and  sustain  him  by  his  presence.  It  is  the  burden  of  his  correspond- 
ence at  this  period.  It  is  a  common  notion  here,"  he  writes  to  the  secretary 
Perez,  "  that  they  are  all  ready  in  Spain  to  sacrifice  the  Low  Countries.  The 
lords  talk  so  freely  that  every  moment  I  fear  an  insurrection.  .  .  .  For  God's 
sake,  persuade  the  king  to  come,  or  it  will  lie  heavy  on  his  conscience." 42 
The  minister  complains  to  the  secretary  that  he  seems  to  be  entirely  abandoned 
by  the  government  at  home.  "  It  is  three  months,"  he  write*,  K  since  I  have 
received  a  letter  from  the  court.  We  know  as  little  of  Spain  here  as  of  the 
Indies.  Such  delays  are  dangerous,  and  may  cost  the  king  dear." 4*  It  is 

17  "  Qiiolqu'elle  ne  pui^ic  dire  qu'aucun  des  sitPiirs  d'Kspalgne,  dont  necessairement  s'en- 

eelgneura  ne  soil  pas  bon  catlioli<|ue,  elle  ne  euyvruit,  quo  tout  BC  mettroit  en  la  puissance 

voit  pourtant  pa*  qu'iU  pnicedent,  dans  lea  et  arbitrage  d'iceulx  Seigneurs  inquislteurs 

matieres  religieuses,  avec  toute  la  chaleur  qul  d'Espaigne."    Hopper,  Recuell  et  Memorial, 

sorait  necessaire."    Correspondance  de  I'hi-  p.  '24. 

lippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  240.  ••  "Quo,  pour  I'aroour  de  Dleu,  te  Roi  se 

"  Ibid.,  p.  202.  dispose  a  venir  aux  I'ays-Bas  !  .  .  .  ce  s<  rait 

"  Ibid.,  iiln  supra.  uue  gr.tndc  charge  pour  sa  conscience,  quo  dc 

40  "C'est  une  grande  confusion  de  la  miilU-  n    Ic  pas  f.dro."    Correspondence  de  Philippe 

tude  den  nostrea  qul  sont  Icy  fuis  pour  la  11.,  torn.  I.  p.  213. 

religion.  On  leseatime  en  Ixmdres.  Sandvtch,  "  "  I>es  chosen  de  cett«  cour  nous  ne  savons 

ci  comarquc  adjacent?,  de  xviij  a  xx  mille  pan  plus  que  ceux  qui  Ronl  aux  Indes.  .  .  . 

U-sies."     Ix-tter  of  Asaonleville  to  Granvelle,  L-  delai  que  le  Kol  met  a  rcpondre  aux  Irttres 

Ibid.,  p.  247.  qu'on  lul   ;ulrrs*  •  cause  un  gr<nd  prejudice 

"  "El  qu'numy  ne  se  fi-rolt  rion   |>ar  le  BUJC  affair  •*;  il  pourra  couter  chcr  un  jour." 

Cardinal  sans  1'accord  de«  8  igneurs  ct  inqul-  Ibid.,  p.  199. 


206  GRANVELLE  COMPELLED  TO  WITHDRAW. 

clear  his  majesty  exercised  his  royal  prerogative  of  having  the  correspondence 
all  on  one  side.  At  least  his  own  share  in  it  at  this  period  was  small,  and  his 
letters  were  concise  indeed  in  comparison  with  the  voluminous  epistles  of  his 
minister.  Perhaps  there  was  some  policy  in  this  silence  of  the  monarch.  His 
opinions,  nay,  his  wishes,  would  have,  to  some  extent,  the  weight  of  laws. 
He  would  not,  therefore,  willingly  commit  himself.  He  preferred  to  conform 
to  his  natural  tendency  to  trust  to  the  course  of  events,  instead  of  disturbing 
them  by  too  precipitate  action.  The  cognomen  by  which  Philip  is  recognized 
on  the  roll  of  Castilian  princes  is  "  the  Prudent" 


CHAPTER  VII.' 

GRANVELLE   COMPELLED   TO   WITHDRAW. 

League  against  Granvelle — Margaret  desires  his  Removal— Philip  deliberates— Granvelle 
dismissed— Leaves  the  Netherlands. 

1562-1564. 

WHILE  the  state  of  feeling  towards  Granvelle,  in  the  nation  generally,  was 
such  as  is  described  in  the  preceding  chapter,  the  lords  who  were  in  the  council 
of  state  chafed  more  and  more  under  their  exclusion  from  business.  As  the 
mask  was  now  thrown  away,  they  »o  longer  maintained  the  show  of  deference 
which  they  had  hitherto  paid  to  the  minister.  From  opposition  to  his 
measures,  they  passed  to  irony,  ridicule,  sarcasm ;  till,  finding  that  their 
assaults  had  little  effect  to  disturb  Granvelle's  temper  and  still  less  to  change 
his  policy,  they  grew  at  length  less  and  less  frequent  in  their  attendance  at 
the  council,  where  they  played  so  insignificant  a  part.  This  was  a  sore 
embarrassment  to  the  regent,  who  needed  the  countenance  of  the  great  nobles 
to  protect  her  with  the  nation,  in  the  unpopular  measures  in  which  she  wa% 
involved. 

Even  Granvelle,  with  all  his  equanimity,  considered  the  crisis  so  grave  as  to 
demand  some  concession,  or  at  least  a  show  of  it,  on  his  own  part,  to  conciliate 
the  good  will  of  his  enemies.  He  authorized  the  duchess  to  say  that  he  was 
perfectly  willing  that  they  should  be  summoned  to  the  consulta,  and  to  absent 
himself  from  its  meetings,  —indeed,  to  resign  the  administration  altogether, 
provided  the  king  approved  of  it.1  Whether  Margaret  communicated  this  to 
the  nobles  does  not  appear ;  at  all  events,  as  nothing  came  of  these  magnani- 
mous concessions  of  the  minister,  they  had  no  power  to  soothe  the  irritation 
of  his  enemies.* 

On  the  contrary,  the  disaffected  lords  were  bending  their  efforts  to  consoli- 
date their  league,  of  which  Granvelle,  it  may  be  recollected,  noticed  the  exist- 
ence in  a  letter  of  the  preceding  year.  We  now  find  the  members  binding 
themselves  to  each  other  by  an  oath  of  secrecy.1  The  persons  who  formed 

1  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  part,  would  delay  as  long  as  possible  return- 

•pp.  236,  242.  ing  his  answers.     For  the  measure,  Philip 

*  Philip's  answer  to  the  letter  of  the  duchess  concludes,  is  equally  repugnant  to  justice  and 

in  which  she  stated  Granvellc's  proposal  was  to  the  interests  of  the  crown.   (Correspondance 

eminently  characteristic.     If  Margaret  could  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  237.)    This  was  the 

not  do  better,  she  might  enter  into  neg"tia-  royal  policy  of  procrastination  ! 
tions  with  the  malecontents  on  the  subject;  *  "Conclusero  nna  lega  c->ntra  '1  Cardenal 

but  she  should  take  care  to  <llay  seinling  p1  detto  &  diffesa  commune  contra  chi  volesse 

advices  of  it  to  Spain ;  aiid  the  kiug,  on  his  offendere  alcun  di  loro,  laqual  confortorono 


LEAGUE  AGAINST  GRANVELLE.  207 

this  confederacy  were  the  governors  of  the  provinces,  the  knights  of  the 
Golden  Fleece,  and,  in  short,  most  of  the  aristocracy  of  any  consideration  in 
the  country.  It  seemed  impossible  that  any  minister  could  stand  against 
such  a  coalition,  resting,  moreover,  on  the  sympathies  of  the  people.  This 
formidable  association,  seeing  that  all  attempts  to  work  on  the  cardinal  were 
ineffectual,  resolved  at  length  to  apply  directly  to  the  king  for  his  removal. 
They  stated  that,  knowing  the  heavy  cares  which  pressed  on  his  majesty,  they 
had  long  dissembled  and  kept  silence,  rather  than  aggravate  these  cares  by 
their  complaints.  If  they  now  broke  this  silence,  it  was  from  a  sense  of  duty 
to  the  king,  and  to  save  their  country  from  ruin.  They  enlarged  on  the 
lamentable  condition  of  affairs,  which,  without  specifying  any  particular 
charges,  they  imputed  altogether  to  the  cardinal,  or  rather  to  the  position  in 
which  he  stood  in  reference  to  the  nation.  It  was  impossible,  they  said,  that 
the  business  of  the  country  could  prosper,  where  the  minister  who  directed  it 
was  held  in  such  general  detestation  by  the  people.  They  earnestly  implored 
the  king  to  take  immediate  measures  for  removing  an  evil  which  menaced  the 
speedy  ruin  of  the  land.  And  they  concluded  with  begging  that  they  might 
be  allowed  to  resign  their  seats  in  the  council  of  state,  wnere,  in  the  existing 
state  of  affairs,  their  presence  could  be  of  no  service.  This  letter,  dated  the 
eleventh  of  March,  1563,  was  signed,  on  behalf  of  the  coalition,  by  three  lords 
who  had  places  in  the  council  of  state, — the  prince  of  Orange,  Count  Egniont, 
and  Count  Hoorne.4 

The  last  nobleman  was  of  an  ancient  and  most  honourable  lineage.  He 
held  the  high  office  of  admiral  of  the  Netherlands,  and  had  been  governor 
both  of  Zutphen  and  of  Gueldres.  He  accompanied  Philip  to  Spain,  and 
during  his  absence  the  province  of  Gueldres  was  transferred  to  another,  Count 
Megen,  for  which  Hoorne  considered  that  he  was  indebted  to  the  good  offices 
of  the  cardinal.  On  his  return  to  his  own  country  he  at  once  enrolled  himself 
in  the  ranks  of  the  opposition.  He  was  a  man  of  indisputable  bravery,  of  a 
quick  and  impatient  temper,— one,  on  the  whole,  who  seems  to  have  been  less 
indebted  for  his  celebrity  to  his  character  than  to  the  peculiar  circumstances 
in  which  he  was  placed. 

On  the  day  previous  to  this  despatch  of  the  nobles  we  find  a  letter  to  the 
king  from  Granvelle,  who  does  not  seem  to  have  been  ignorant  of  what  was 
doing  by  the  lords.  He  had  expostulated  with  them,  he  telis  Philip,  on  the 
disloyalty  of  their  conduct  in  thus  banding  against  the  government,— a  pro- 
ceeding which  in  other  times  might  have  subjected  them  to  a  legal  prosecu- 
tion.* He  mentions  no  one  by  name  except  Egmont,  whom  he  commends  as 
more  tractable  and  open  to  reason  than  nis  confederates.  He  was  led  away 
by  evil  counsellors,  and  Granvelle  expresses  the  hope  that  he  will  one  day 
open  his  eyes  to  his  errors  and  return  to  his  allegiance. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  the  detestation,  he  goes  on  to  say,  in  which  the 
S[  i.iniards  are  held  by  the  nation.  The  Si>aniards  only,  it  was  everywhere 
said,  were  regarded  by  the  court  of  Madrid  as  the  lawful  children ;  the 
Flemings,  as  illegitimate.*  It  was  necessary  to  do  away  this  impression  ;  to 
iilace  the  Flemings  on  the  same  footing  with  the  Spaniards ;  to  give  them 
lucrative  appointments,  for  they  greatly  needed  them,  in  Spain  or  in  Italy  ; 

con  solennlsso  giuramento,  ne  Hi  cnrarono  che  •  "Que  en  otroe  tlempos  por  menor  MUM 

*•  non  II  particular!  fi-wrro  Mrretl   por  all'  ne  havla  mandado  a  Klscales  procrder."     Ar- 

liura ;  ma  publlcorono  questa  loro  union?,  <-t  chives  de  la  Maitton  d'Orange- Nassau,  torn.  I. 

qumta  lega  fatta  contra  II  Ca^d'*."    Kelatlone  p.  151. 

di  Tlepolo,  MS.  •  "Que  sole*  los  do  Ettpafla  seim  letrltlmoo, 

*  CorrespondancedeOulHaumeleTacltnrne,  qnc  fiat  las  palabraa  de  que  aqui  y  en  Italia  so 

torn.  it.  pp.  30-38-  Una."     Ibid.,  p.  163. 


208  GRANVELLE  COMPELLED  TO  WITHDRAW. 

and  it  might  not  be  amiss  to  bestow  the  yiceroyalty  of  Sicily  on  the  prince  of 
Orange.  Thus  by  the  same  act  the  politic  minister  would  both  reward  his 
rivals  and  remove'  them  from  the  country.  But  he  greatly  misunderstood  the 
character  of  William  if  he  thought  in  this  way  to  buy  him  off  from  the  opposition. 
It  was  four  months  before  the  confederates  received  an  answer ;  during 
which  time  affairs  continued  to  wear  the  same  gloomy  aspect  as  before.  At 
length  came  the  long-expected  epistle  from  the  monarch,  dated  on  the  sixth 
of  June.  It  was  a  brief  one.  Philip  thanked  the  lords  for  their  zeal  and 
devotion  to  his  service.  After  well  considering  the  matter,  however,  he  had 
not  found  any  specific  ground  of  complaint  alleged,  to  account  for  the  advice 

E'ven  him  to  part  with  his  minister.    The  king  hoped  before  long  to  visit  the 
ow  Countries  in  person.    Meanwhile,  he  should  be  glad  to  see  any  one  of  the 
nobles  in  Spain,  to  learn  from  him  the  whole  state  of  the  affair,  as  it  was  not 
his  wont  to  condemn  his  ministers  without  knowing  the  grounds  on  which 
they  were  accused.* 

The  fact  that  the  lords  had  not  specified  any  particular  subject  of  complaint 
against  the  cardinal  gave  the  king  an  obvious  advantage  in  the  correspond- 
ence. It  seemed  to  be  too  much  to  expect  his  immediate  dismissal  of  the 
minister  on  the  vague  pretext  of  his  unpopularity,  without  a  single  instance 
of  misconduct  being  alleged  against  him.  Yet  this  was  the  position  in  which 
the  enemies  of  Granvelle  necessarily  found  themselves.  The  minister  acted 
by  the  orders  of  the  king.  To  have  assailed  the  minister's  acts,  therefore, 
would  have  been  to  attack  the  king  himself.  Egmont,  some  time  after  this, 
with  even  more  frankness  than  usual,  is  said  to  nave  declared  at  table  to  a 
friend  of  the  cardinal  that  "  the  blow  was  aimed  not  so  much  at  the  minister 
as  at  the  monarch." 8 

The  discontent  of  the  lords  at  receiving  this  laconic  epistle  may  be  imagined. 
They  were  indignant  that  so  little  account  should  be  made  of  their  represen- 
tations, and  that  both  they  and  the  country  should  be  sacrificed  to  the  king's 
partiality  for  his  minister.  The  three  lords  waited  on  the  regent,  and  extorted 
from  her  a  reluctant  consent  to  assemble  the  knights  of  the  order  and  to 
confer  with  them  and  the  other  nobles  as  to  the  course  to  be  taken. 

It  was  there  decided  that  the  lords  should  address  a  second  letter,  in  the 
name  of  the  whole  body,  to  Philip,  and  henceforth  should  cease  to  attend  the 
council  of  state.9 

In  this  letter,  which  bears  the  date  of  July  the  twenty-ninth,  they  express 
their  disappointment  that  his  majesty  had  not  come  to  a  more  definite 
resolution,  when  prompt  and  decisive  measures  could  alone  save  the  country 
from  ruin.  They  excuse  themselves  from  visiting  Spain  in  the  critical  state 
of  affairs  at  home.  At  another  time,  and  for  any  other  purpose,  did  the  king 
desire  it,  they  would  willingly  do  so.  But  it  was  not  tneir  design  to  appear 
as  accusers  and  institute  a  process  against  the  minister.  They  had  hoped 
their  own  word  in  such  an  affair  would  have  sufficed  with  his  majesty.  It  was  • 
not  the  question  whether  the  minister  was  to  be  condemned,  but  whether  he 
was  to  be  removed  from  an  office  for  which  he  was  in  no  respect  qualified." 

'  "Car  ce  n'est  ma  coustntne  de  grever  stre  tres-mal  le  public  et  mosaics  ce  de  la 

aucutis  de  mes  ministres  pans  cause."    Cor-  Religion,  comme  Ton  luy  at  assez  adverty." 

respondance  de  Guillaume  le  Taciturne,  torn.  Morillon,  Archdeacon  of  Mechlin,  to  Gran- 

ii.  p.  42.  vello.  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau, 

•  "S'estant  ie  comte  d'Egtnont  advanche  torn.  i.  p.  247. 

aujourd'huy  liuict  jours  post  pocula  dire  &  *  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  L 

Hopperus,  avec  lequel  il  fut  bien  deux  heures  pp.  256,  258,  259. 

en  devia  s,  que  ce  n'estoit  point  a  Granvelle  lo  "11   n'est  pas  icy  question  de  grever 

que  1'on  en  vouloit,  mais  au  Roy,  qui  admini-  ledict  cardinal,  ains  plustost  de  le  descharger, 


LEAGUE  AGAINST  GRANVELLE.  239 

They  had  hoped  their  attachment  and  tried  fidelity  to  the  crown  would  have 
made  it  superfluous  for  them  to  go  into  a  specification  of  charges.  These, 
indeed,  could  be  easily  made ;  but  the  discontent  and  disorder  which  now 
reignea  throughout  the  country  were  sufficient  evidence  of  the  minister's 
incapacity." 

They  stated  that  they  had  acquainted  the  regent  with  their  intention  to 
absent  themselves  in  future  from  the  council,  where  their  presence  could  be  no 
longer  useful ;  and  they  trusted  this  would  receive  his  majesty's  sanction. 
They  expressed  their  determination  loyally  and  truly  to  discharge  every  trust 
reposed  in  them  by  the  government ;  ana  they  concluded  by  apologizing  for 
the  homely  language  of  their  epistle, — for  they  were  no  haranguers  or  orators, 
but  men  accustomed  to  act  rather  than  to  talk,  as  was  suited  to  persons  of 
their  quality."  This  last  shaft  was  doubtless  aimed  at  the  cardinal.  The 
letter  was  signed  by  the  same  triumvirate  as  the  former.  The  abstract  here 
given  does  no  justice  to  the  document,  which  is  of  considerable  length,  and 
carefully  written.  The  language  is  that  of  men  who  to  the  habitual  exercise 
of  authority  united  a  feeling  of  self-respect,  which  challenged  the  respect  of 
their  opponents.  Such  were  not  the  men  to  be  cajoled  or  easily  intimidated. 
It  was  the  first  time  that  Philip  had  been  addressed  In  this  lofty  tone  by 
his  great  vassals.  It  should  have  opened  his  eyes  to  the  condition  and  the 
character  of  his  subjects  in  the  Netherlands. 

The  coalition  drew  up,  at  the  same  time,  an  elaborate  "  remonstrance," 
which  they  presented  to  Margaret.  In  it  they  set  forth  the  various  disorders 
of  the  country,  especially  those  growing  out  of  the  state  of  religion  and  the 
embarrassment  of  the  finances.  The  only  remedy  for  these  evils  is  to  be  found 
in  a  meeting  of  the  states-general.  The  king's  prohibition  of  this  measure 
must  have  proceeded,  no  doubt,  from  the  evil  counsels  of  persons  hostile  to 
the  true  interests  of  the  nation.  As  their  services  can  be  of  little  use  while 
they  are  thus  debarred  from  a  resort  to  their  true  and  only  remedy  in  their 
embarrassments,  they  tnist  the  regent  will  not  take  it  amiss  that,  so  long  as 
the  present  policy  is  pursued,  they  decline  to  take  their  seats  in  the  council 
of  state,  to  be  merely  shadows  there,  as  they  have  been  for  the  last  four 
years.1* 

From  this  period  the  malecontent  lords  no  more  appeared  in  council.  The 
perplexity  of  Margaret  was  great.  Thus  abandoned  by  the  nobles  in  whom 
the  country  had  the  greatest  confidence,  she  was  left  alone,  as  it  were,  with 
the  man  whom  the  country  held  in  the  greatest  abhorrence.  She  had  long 
seen  with  alarm  the  storm  gathering  round  the  devoted  head  of  the  minister. 
To  attempt  alone  to  uphold  his  falling  fortunes  would  be  probably  to  bury 
herself  in  their  ruins.  In  her  extremity,  she  appealed  to  the  confederates, 
and,  since  she  could  not  divide  them,  endeavoured  to  divert  them  from  their 
opposition.  They,  on  the  other  hand,  besought  the  regent  no  longer  to  con- 
'  nect  herself  with  the  desperate  cause  of  a  minister  so  odious  to  the  country. 
Possibly  they  infused  into  her  mind  some  suspicions  of  the  subordinate  part 

voire  d'une  charge  laquelle  non-Benlemcnt  lul  M  presence,  crddlt  et  auctorlte."     Ibid.,  p. 

••-'  peu  convenable  et  cotnme  extraordinaire,  46. 

main  auMi  ne  peult  phis  ertre  en  *••<  mains,  "  "Que  ne  sommes  point  de  nature  grans 

•anagram!  danglerd'inconvenlensettroublcs."  oratcun*  ou  Imrangucurs,  et  plus  accoustumei 

Correspondence  de  Uuiilaumc  le  Tactturne,  a  bleu  faire  qu'a  bien  dire,  comme  auaoy  II  est 

torn.  ii.  p.  tr>.  mlculx   seam   4   gens   de   noetre    qualito." 

"  "Quant  II  n'y  anrolt  que  le  d&ordre,  Ibid.,  p.  47. 

me«contenteinent  et  con  f union  qul  se  tronve  '•  "  FalKansoesneTl'umbredontavonsBcrvy 

aujourd'huy  en  vos  pays  de  pur  dec.  A,  ce  seroit  en  Iceluy  quatre  ans."    Ibid.,  p.  60. 
tesmoinage  de  combk-n  pcu   sort   icy 


210  GRANVELLE  COMPELLED  TO  WITHDRAW. 

she  was  made  to  play,  through  the  overweening  ambition  of  the  cardinal.  At 
all  events,  an  obvious  change  took  place  in  her  conduct,  and  while  she  deferred 
less  and  less  to  Granvelle,  she  entered  into  more  friendly  relations  with  his 
enemies.  This  was  especially  the  case  with  Egmont,  whose  frank  and 
courteous  bearing  and  loyal  disposition  seem  to  have  won  greatly  on  the 
esteem  of  the  duchess. 

Satisfied,  at  last,  that  it  would  be  inipracticable  to  maintain  the  govern- 
ment much  longer  on  its  present  basis,  Margaret  resolved  to  write  to  her 
brother  on  the  subject,  and  at  the  same  time  to  send  her  confidential  secre- 
tary, Armenteros,  to  Spain,  to  acquaint  the  king  with  the  precise  state  of 
affairs  in  the  Netherlands.14 

After  enlarging  on  the  disorders  and  difficulties  of  the  country,  the  duchess 
came  to  the  quarrel  between  the  cardinal  and  the  nobles.  She  had  made 
every  effort  to  reconcile  the  parties 7-but  that  was  impossible.  She  was  fully 
sensible  of  the  merits  of  Granvelle,  his,  high  capacity,  his  experience  in  public 
affairs,  his  devotion  to  the  interests  both  of  the  king  and  of  religion.14  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  maintain  him  in  the  Netherlands,  in  opposition  to  the 
will  of  the  nobles,  was  to  expose  the  country  not  merely  to  great  embarrass- 
ments, but  to  the  danger  of  insurrection.18  The  obligations  of  the  high  place 
which  she  occupied  compelled  her  to  lay  the  true  state  of  the  case  before  the 
king,  and  he  would  determine  the  course  to  be  pursued.  With  this  letter, 
bearing  the  date  of  August  twelfth,  and  fortified  with  ample  instructions  from 
the  duchess,  Armenteros  was  forthwith  despatched  on  his  mission  to  Spain. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  state  of  feeling  in  the  cabinet  of  Brussels  was 
known,  or  at  least  surmised,  throughout  the  country.  It  was  the  interest  of 
some  of  the  parties  that  it  should  not  be  kept  secret.  The  cardinal,  thus 
abandoned  by  his  friends,  became  a  more  conspicuous  mark  for  the  shafts  of 
liis  enemies.  Libels,  satires,  pasquinades,  were  launched  against  him  from 
every  quarter.  Such  fugitive  pieces,  like  the  insect  which  dies  when  it  has 
left  its  sting,  usually  perish  with  the  occasion  that  gives  them  birth.  But 
some  have  survived  to  the  present  day,  or  at  least  were  in  existence  at  the 
close  of  the  last  century,  and  are  much  commended  by  a  critic  for  the  merits 
of  their  literary  execution.17 

It  was  the  custom,  at  the  period  of  our  narrative,  for  the  young  people  to 
meet  in  the  towns  and  villages  and  celebrate  what  were  called  "academic 
games,"  consisting  of  rhetorical  discussions  on  the  various  topics  of  the  day, 
sometime»»of  a  theological  or  a  political  character.  Public  affairs  furnished  "a 
fruitful  theme  at  this  crisis  ;  and  the  cardinal,  in  particular,  was  often  roughly 
handled,-  Jt  was  in  vain  the  government  tried  to  curb  this  license.  It  only 
served  to  stimulate  the  disputants  to  new  displays  of  raillery  and  ridicule.18 

Granvelle,  it  will  be  readily  believed,  was  not  slow  to  perceive  his  loss  of  credit 
with  the  regent,  and  the  more  intimate  relations  into  which  she  had  entered 
with  his  enemies.  But,  whatever  he  may  have  felt,  he  was  too  proud  or  too 
politic  to  betray  his  mortification  to  the  duchess.  Thus  discredited  by  all 
but  an  insignificant  party,  who  were  branded  as  the  "  Cardinalists,"  losing 

14  Memoires  de  Granvelle,  torn.  11.  p.  39,  et  vonloir  le  maintenir  aux  Pays-Bas,  centre  le 

seq- — Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  gre  des  seigneurs,  pourrait  entrainer  de  grands 

{'•  256.  inconvenients,  et  meme  le  soulevement   du 

"  Elle  connait  tout  le  merite  du  cardinal,  pays."    Jbid.,  ubi  supra. 

sa  haute  capacite,  son  experience  des  affaires  "  Reiffenberg,  Correspondance  de  Margue- 

d'Etat,  le  zele  et  le  devouement  qu'il  montre  rite  d'Autriche,  p.  26,  note, 

pour  le  service  de  Dieu  et  du  Roi."     Ibid.,  "  Vandervynckt,  Troubles  des  Pays-Bas, 

P-  266.  torn.  ii.  p.  68. 

"D'an  autre  cote,  elle  reconnalt   quo 


PHILIP  DELIBERATES.  211 

influence  daily  with  the  regent,  at  open  war  with  the  nobles,  and  hated  by 
the  people,  never  was  there  a  minister  in  so  forlorn  a  situation,  or  one  who 
was  able  to  maintain  his  post  a  day  in  such  circumstances.  Yet  Granvelle 
did  not  lose  heart ;  as  others  failed  him,  he  relied  the  more  on  himself ;  and 
the  courage  which  he  displayed,  when  thus  left  alone,  as  it  were,  to  face  the 
anger  of  trie  nation,  might  have  well  commanded,  the  respect  of  his  enemies. 
He  made  no  mean  concession  to  secure  the  support  of  the  nobles  or  to  recover 
the  favour  of  the  regent.  He  did  not  shrink  from  the  dangers  or  the  respon- 
sibilities of  his  station ;  though  the  latter,  at  least,  bore  heavily  on  him. 
Speaking  of  the  incessant  pressure  of  his  cares,  he  writes  to  his  correspondent, 
Perez.  "  My  hairs  have  turned  so  white  you  would  not  recognize  me.  "  He 
was  then  but  forty-six.  On  one  occasion,  indeed,  we  do  find  him  telling  the 
king  tliat "  if  his  majesty  does  not  soon  come  to  the  Netherlands  he  must 
withdraw  from  them.  **  This  seems  to  have  been  a  sudden  burst  of  feeling, 
as  it  was  a  solitary  one,  forced  from  him  by  the  extremity  of  his  situation.  It 
was  much  more  in  character  that  he  wrote  afterwards  to  the  secretary  Perez, 
"  I  am  so  beset  with  dangers  on  every  side  that  most  people  give  me  up  for 
lost  But  I  mean  to  live  as  long,  by  the  grace  of  Gfbd,  as  1  can  ;  and  if  they 
do  take  away  my  life,  I  trust  they  vrill  not  gain  everything  for  all  that."  " 
He  nowhere  intimates  a  wish  to  be  recalled.  Nor  would  his  ambition  allow 
him  to  resign  the  helm  ;  but  the  fiercer  the  tempest  raged,  the  more  closely 
did  he  cling  to  the  wreck  of  his  fortunes. 

The  arrival  of  Armenteros  with  the  despatches,  and  the  tidings  that  he 
brought,  caused  a  great  sensation  in  the  court  of  Madrid.  "  We  are  on  the 
eve  of  a  terrible  conflagration,"  writes  one  of  the  secretaries  of  Philip  ;  "  and 
they  greatly  err  who  think  it  will  pass  away  as  formerly."  He  expresses  the 
wish  that  Granvelle  would  retire  from  the  country,  where,  he  predicts,  they 
would  soon  wish  his  return.  "But  ambition,"  he  adds,  "and  the  point  of 
honour,  are  alike  opposed  to  this.  Nor  does  the  king  desire  it."  ** 

Yet  it  was  not  easy  to  say  what  the  king  did  desire, — certainly  not  what 
course  he  would  pursue.  He  felt  a  natural  reluctance  to  abandon  the  minister 
whose  greatest  error  seemed  to  be  that  of  too  implicit  an  obedience  to  his 
master's  commands.  He  declared  he  would  rather  risk  the  loss  of  the  Nether- 
lands than  abandon  him."  Yet  how  was  that  minister  to  be  maintained  in 
his  place,  in  opposition  to  the  will  of  the  nation  ?  In  this  perplexity,  Philip 
applied  for  counsel  to  the  man  in  whom  he  most  confided,— the  duke  of  Alva ; 
the  very  worst  counsellor  possible  in  the  present  emergency. 

The  duke's  answer  was  eminently  characteristic  of  the  man.  "  When  I  read 
the  letters  of  these  lords,"  he  says,  "  1  am  so  filled  with  rage  that,  did  I  not 
make  an  effort  to  suppress  it,  my  language  would  appear  to  you  tliat  of  a 
madman."  *4  After  this  temperate  exordium,  he  recommends  the  king  on  no 
account  to  remove  Granvelle  from  the  administration  of  the  Netherlands. 

'•  «'Vou8  tie  me  reconnattrlez  plus,  tant  secretary  Perez  to  Granvelle,  "como  era  razon. 

BOP"  cheveux  ont  bUncbl."    Correspoudance-  me  re«pondl6  que  por  «u  fee  tfntea  aventurarla 

ile  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  288.  ti  perder  esaoe  cFtadoe  que  hazer  erae  apravio 

•    Ibid.,  p.  274.  il  V.  8.  en  lo  qual  conot>cen(  la  pran  voluntad 

"  "  Mot,  qnt  ne  rate  qu'un  ver  de  tare,  je  que  Ic  ttene."    Paplen  d'fitat  de  Granvelle, 

nils  menace  de  tant  de  cotes,  que  beauroup  ton),  vll.  p.  102. 

doivent  me  tenlr  deja  pour  inort ;  mats  je  •'•  ••  Cada  vez  que  veo    Ion  deopochos  d« 

ticherat,  avec  I'aMi-  de  DIPU.  de  vlvre  autant  aquelloH  tre*  senoren  de  Flandea  me  mueven 

que  poraiblo,  et  *i  Ton  me  tue.  j  e*pere  qu'on  la  colera  de    maner*    que,  slno  procuraaM 

n'aura  pa*  gagne  tout  par  la."    Ibid.,  p.  2*4.  mucuo  templarla,  crco  pnrecia  i  V.  Map'  ml 

"  Archives  de  la  MaUun  d'Orangc- Nassau,  opinion  de    hombre    frenetico."     Carta  del 

torn.  1.  p.  190.  Duque  de  Alba  al  Rev,  ii  21  de  Octobre  de 

11  "  Bablandole  yo  en  ello,"  writes   the  1563,  MS. 


212  GRANVELLE  COMPELLED  TO  WITHDRAW. 

"  It  is  a  thing  of  course,"  he  says,  "that  the  cardinal  should  be  the  first 
victim.  A  rebellion  against  the  prince  naturally  begins  with  an  attack  on 
his  ministers.  It  would  be  better,"  he  continues,  "  if  all  could  be  brought  at 
once  to  summary  justice.  Since  that  cannot  be,  it  may  be  best  to  divide  the 
nobles  ;  to  win  over  Egmont  and  those  who  follow  him  by  favours ;  to  show 
displeasure  to  those  who  are  the  least  offenders.  For  the  greater  ones,  who 
deserve  to  lose  their  heads,  your  majesty  will  do  well  to  dissemble,  until  you 
can  give  them  their  deserts."  M 

Part  of  this  advice  the  king  accepted ;  for  to  dissemble  did  no  violence  to 
his  nature.  But  the  more  he  reflected  on  the  matter,  the  more  he  was  satis- 
fied that  it  would  be  impossible  to  retain  the  obnoxious  minister  in  his  place. 
Yet  when  he  had  come  to  this  decision  be  still  shrank  from  announcing  it 
Months  passed,  and  yet  Armenteros,  who  was  to  carry  back  the  royal 
despatches,  was  still  detained  at  Madrid.  It  seemed  as  if  Philip  here,  as  on 
other  occasions  of  less  moment,  was  prepared  to  leave  events  to  take  their 
own  course,  rather  than  direct  them  himself. 

Early  in  January,  1564,  the  duchess  of  Parma  admonished  her  brother 
that  the  lords  chafed  much  under  his  long  silence.  It  was  a  common  opinion, 
she  said,  that  he  cared  little  for  Flanders,  and  that  he  was  under  the  influence 
of  evil  counsellors,  who  would  persuade  him  to  deal  with  the  country  as  a 
conquered  province.  She  besought  him  to  answer  the  letter  of  the  nobles, 
and  especially  to  write  in  affectionate  terms  to  Count  Egmont,  who  well 
deserved  this  for  the  zeal  he  had  always  shown  for  his  sovereign's  interests.16 

One  is  struck  with  the  tone  in  which  the  regent  here  speaks  of  one  of  the 
leaders  of  the  opposition,  so  little  in  unison  with  her  former  language.  It 
shows  how  completely  she  was  now  under  their  influence.  In  truth,  however, 
we  see  constantly,  both  in  her  letters  and  those  of  the  cardinal,  a  more 
friendly  tone  of  feeling  towards  Egmont  than  to  either  of  his  associates.  On 
the  score  of  orthodoxy  in  matters  of  religion  he  was  unimpeachable.  His 
cordial  manners,  his  free  and  genial  temper,  secured  the  sympathy  of  all  with 
whom  he  came  in  contact.  It  was  a  common  opinion  that  it  would  not  be 
difficult  to  detach  him  from  the  party  of  malecontents  with  whom  his  lot  was 
cast.  Such  were  not  the  notions  entertained  of  the  prince  of  Orange. 

In  a  letter  from  Granvelle  to  Philip,  without  a  date,  but  written  perhaps 
about  this  period,"  we  have  portraits,  or  rather  outlines,  of  the  two  great 
leaders  of  the  opposition,  touched  with  a  masterly  hand.  Egmont  he  describes 
as  firm  in  his  faith,  loyally  disposed,  but  under  the  evil  influence  of  William. 
It  would  not  be  difficult  to  win  him  over  by  flattery  and  favours.2*  The  prince, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  a  cunning  and  dangerous  enemy,  of  profound  views, 
boundless  ambition,  difficult  to  change,  and  impossible  to  control19  In  the 
latter  character  we  see  the  true  leader  of  the  revolution. 

"  "A  los  que  destos  meriten  quitenles  las  Granvelle,  torn.  H.  p.  52.)    The  worthy  Bene- 

cave$as,  hasta  poder  lo  hacer,  dissimular  con  dictine  assures  us,  in  his  preface,  that  he  has 

ellos."    Carta  del  Duque  de  Alba  al  Rey,  &  always  given  the  text  of  Granvelle's  rorre- 

21  de  Octohre  de  1563,  MS.  spondence  exactly  as  he  found  it ;  an  assur- 

"  "Conime  je   1'ai  toujours  trouve  plein  ance  to  which  few  will  give  implicit  cndit 

d'cmpn  ssement  et  de  zele  pour  tout  ce  qui  who  have  read  this  letter,  which  bears  the 

touche  le  service  de  V.  M.  et  1'avantage  du  marks  of  the  reviser's  hand  in  every  sentence, 

pays,  je  supplie  V.    M.   de  faire  au  comte  ""  Memoires  de  Granvelle,  torn.  ii.  p.  55. 

d'Egmont  une  reponse  affectueuse,  afin  qu'il  **  "  Le  prince  d'Orange  est  un  homme  dan- 

ne  desespere  pas  de  sa  bonte."    Correspon-  gereux,   fin,   ruse,   affectant  de   soutenir   le 

dance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  281.  peuple.  .  .  .  Je  pense  qu'un  pareil  genie  qut 

"  The  letter — found  among  the  MSS.  at  a  des  vues  profondes  est  fort  difficile  a  me- 

Besaiicon — is  given  by  Dom  Prosper  Levesque  nager,  et  qu'il  n'est  gueres  possible  de  la  faire 

in  his  life  of  the  cardinal.    (Memoires  de  changer."    Ibid.,  pp.  53,  54. 


PHILIP'S  LETTER  TO  GBANVELLB.  213 

Disgusted  with  the  indifference  of  the  king,  shown  in  his  long-protracted 
silence,  the  nobles,  notwithstanding  the  regent's  remonstrances,  sent  orders 
to  their  courier,  who  had  been  waiting  in  Madrid  for  the  royal  despatches,  to 
wait  no  longer,  but  return  without  them  to  the  Netherlands.30  Fortunately, 
Philip  now  mpved,  and  at  the  close  of  January,  1564,  sent  back  Armenteros 
with  nis  instructions  to  Brussels.  The  most  important  of  them  was  a  letter 
of  dismissal  to  the  cardinal  himself.  It  was  very  short.  "On  considering 
what  you  write,"  said  the  king,  "  I  deem  it  best  that  you  should  leave  the  Low 
Countries  for  some  days,  and  go  to  Burgundy  to  see  your  mother,  with  the 
consent  of  the  duchess  of  Parma.  In  this  way,  both  my  authority  and  your 
own  reputation  will  be  preserved."  *' 

It  has  been  a  matter  of  dispute  how  far  the  resignation  of  the  cardinal  was 
voluntary.  The  recent  discovery  of  this  letter  of  Philip  determines  that 
question.**  It  was  by  command  of  the  sovereign.  Yet  that  command  was 
extorted  by  necessity,  and  so  given  as  best  to  save  the  feelings  and  the  credit 
of  the  minister.  Neither  party  anticipated  that  Granvelle^s  absence  would 
continue  for  a  long  time,  much  less  that  his  dismissal  was  final.  Even  when 
inditing  the  letter  to  the  cardinal,  Philip  cherished  the  hope  that  the  neces- 
sity for  his  departure  might  be  avoided  altogether.  This  appears  from  the 
despatches  sent  at  the  same  time  to  the  regent. 

Shortly  after  his  note  to  Granvelle,  on  the  nineteenth  of  February,  Philip 
wrote  an  answer  to  the  lords  in  all  the  tone  of  offended  majesty.  He  expressed 
his  astonishment  that  they  should  have  been  led  by  any  motive  whatever  to 
vacate  their  seats  at  the  council,  where  he  had  placed  them.**  They  would 
not  fail  to  return  there  at  once,  and  show  that  they  preferred  the  public  weal 
to  all  private  considerations.*4  As  for  the  removal  or  the  minister,  since  they 
had  not  been  pleased  to  specify  any  charges  against  him,  the  king  would 
deliberate  further  before  deciding  on  the  matter.  Thus,  three  weeks  after 
Philip  had  given  the  cardinal  his  dismissal,  did  he  write  to  his  enemies  as  if 
the  matter  were  still  in  abeyance ;  hoping,  it  would  seem,  by  the  haughty 
tone  of  authority,  to  rebuke  the  spirit  of  the  refractory  nobles  and  intimidate 
them  into  c.  compliance  with  his  commands.  Should  this  policy  succeed,  the 
cardinal  might  still  hold  the  helm  of  government.** 

••  "  Cansant  I'antre  Jour  avec  elle,  le  comte  mols  de  travail,  Je  decouvris,  snr  on  petit 

d'Kgmont  lui  muntra  un  grand  mecontente-  chiffon  de  papier,  la  minute  de  la  famense 

n>«  nt  dp  ce  quo  le  Roi  n'avaft  daigne  fain-  un  lettre  dont   faisait  mention   la  duchesse  de 

«eul  mot  de  re|K>nse  ni  ft  lui,  ni  aux  aiitres.  Panne :  elle  avait  ete  classee,  par  une  meprise 

II  dit  que,  voyant  cela.  Us  etaiem  decides  a  de  je  ne  sals  quel  official,  avec  les  papiers  de 

ordonner  a  leur  courrier  qu'il  revfnt,  sana  1'annee  1562.    On  linalt  en  tete :  Jte  mano  del 

.  attendre    davantage."      Correppondance    de  Key ;  tecreta.    Vous  comprendrpz,  monsieur 

Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  283.  le  Mlnistre,  la  Joie  que  me  fit  epiouver  cette 

"  "11  a  pense,  rt'upres  ce  que  le  cardinal  decouverte:    ce  sent   1ft  des  jouissances  qul 

Ini   a  ecrit.  qu'il  serait  tres  ft  propos  qu'll  dedommagent  de  bien  ties  fatigues,  de  bien 

allat  voir  M  mere,  avec  la  permission  de  la  dea  ennuis!"    Rapport  it  M.  le  Mlnistre  de 

duchesse  de  Parme.     DP  cette  maniere,  1'auto-  1'Interleur,  Ibid.,  p.  clxxxv.* 

rite  du  Rot  et  la  reputation  du  cardinal  seront  "  "M'esbayz  blen  que,  pour  chose  qnel- 

Bauvi-H."    Ibid.,  p.  285.  conque,  vous  ayci  delaifwl  d  entrer  au  conseil 

"  That  Indefatigable  labourer  in  the  mine  od  je  vous  avois  laisae."    Correspondance  da 

of  MSS.,  M.  Gachard,  obtained  Home  cine  to  Qulllaume  le  Tacit unie,  torn.  II.  p.  67. 

the  existence  of  such  a  letter  In  the  Archives  "  "  Ne  falllez  d'y  rentrer,  et  monstrer  de 

of  Sinianca.4.     For  two  months  it  eludpd  his  combipn  vous  ertimex  plus  mon  service  et  le 

researches,  when  in  a  happy  hour  he  stumbled  bli-n  de  mes  pays  de  dela,  qneautre  partlcula- 

on  this  pearl  of  price.    The  reader  may  chare  rit£  quolconqne."    Ibid.,  p.  6H. 

the  enthusiasm  of  the  Belgian  scholar:  "Je  "  Abundant  evidence  of  Philip's  intentions 

redoublal  d'attentlon  ;   et  enfln,  apres  deux  is  afforded  by  his  despatches  to  Margaret, 

•  [Philip's  letter,  of  which  only  the  "  mi-  In  the  twelfth  volume  of  the  "  Bulletins  "  of 
note"  is  cited  by  1'rcscott,  has  been  printed  the  Academy  of  Brussels.— ED.] 


214  GRANVELLE  COMPELLED  TO  WITHDRAW. 

But  Philip  had  not  yet  learned  that  he  was  dealing  with  men  who  had  little 
of  that  spirit  of  subserviency  to  which  he  was  accustomed  in  his  Castilian 
vassals.  The  peremptory  tone  of  his  letter  fired  the  blood  of  the  Flemish 
lords,  who  at  once  waited  on  the  regent  and  announced  their  purpose  not  to 
re-enter  the  council.  The  aftair  was  not  likely  to  end  here ;  and  Margaret 
saw  with  alarm  the  commotion  that  would  be  raised  when  the*  letter  of  the 
king  should  be  laid  before  the  whole  body  of  the  nobles.36  Fearing  some  rash 
step,  difficult  to  be  retrieved,  she  resolved  either  that  the  cardinal  should 
announce  his  intended  departure  or  that  she  would  do  so  for  him.  Philip's 
experiment  had  failed.  Nothing,  therefore,  remained  but  for  the  minister 
publicly  to  declare  that,  as  his  brother,  the  late  envoy  to  France,  had  returned 
to  Brussels,  he  had  obtained  permission  from  the  regent  to  accompany  him 
on  a  visit  to  their  aged  mother,  whom  Granvelle  had  not  seen  for  fourteen 
years.37 

The  news  of  the  minister's  resignation  and  speedy  departure  spread  like 
wildfire  over  the  country.  The  joy  was  universal ;  and  the  wits  of  the  time 
redoubled  their  activity,  assailing  the  fallen  minister  with  libels,  lampoons, 
and  caricatures,  without  end.  One  of  these  caricatures,  thrust  into  his  own 
hand  under  the  pretence  of  its  being  a  petition,  represented  him  as  hatching 
a  brood  of  young  bishops,  who  were  crawling  out  of  their  shells.  Hovering 
above  might  be  seen  the  figure  of  the  Devil ;  while  these  wrords  were  profanely 
made  to  issue  from  his  mouth  :  "  This  is  my  son  ;  hear  ye  him  ! " 3* 

It  was  at  this  time  that,  at  a  banquet  at  which  many  of  the  Flemish  nobles 
were  present,  the  talk  fell  on  the  expensive  habits  of  the  aristocracy,  especially 
as  shown  in  the  number  and  dress  of  their  domestics.  It  was  the  custom  for 
them  to  wear  showy  and  very  costly  liveries,  intimating  by  the  colours  the 
family  to  which  they  belonged.  Granvelle  had  set  an  example  of  this  kind 
of  ostentation.  It  was  proposed  to  regulate  their  apparel  by  a  more  modest 
and  uniform  standard.  The  lot  fell  on  Egmont  to  devise  some  suitable  livery, 
of  the  simple  kind  used  by  the  Germans.  He  proposed  a  dark-gray  habit, 

together  with  two  letters  which  they  enclosed  trusted  that  no  one  but  Margaret  was  privy  to 

to    Egmont.     These  letters  were  of  directly  the  existence  of  the  royal  letter,— "secret,  and 

opposite  tenor ;  one  dispensing  with  Egmont's  written  with  the  king's  own  hand."    So  he 

presence  at  Madrid, — which  had  been  talked  speaks  of  his  departure  in  his  various  letters 

of, — the  other  inviting  him  there.     Margaret  as  a  spontaneous  movement  to  see  his  vene- 

was  to  give  the  one  which,  under  the  circum-  rable  parent.    The  secretary  Perez  must  have 

stances,  she  thought  expedient.    The  duchess  smiled  as  he  read  one  of  these  letters  to  him- 

was  greatly  distressed  by  her  brother's  ma-  self,  since  an  abstract  of  the  royal  despatch 

nceuvring.     She  saw  that  the  course  she  must  appears  in  his  own  handwriting.  The  Flemish 

pursue  was  not  the  course  which  be  would  nobles  also — probably  through  the  regent's 

prefer.    Philip  did  not  understand  her  country-  secretary,  Armenteros — appear  to  have  been 

men  so  well  as  she  did.  possessed  of  the  true  state  of  the  case.    It 

""  "  En  effet,  le  prince  d'Orange  et  le  comte  was  too  good  a  thing  to  be  kept  secret. 

d'Egmont,   les    souls    qui  se  trouvassent  a  :i"  Schiller,  Abfall  der  Niederlande,  p.  147. 

Bruxelles,  montrerent  tant  de  tristesse  et  de  — Among  other  freaks  was  that  of  a  masque- 

mecontentement  de  la  courte  et  secbe  reponse  rade,  at  which  a  devil  was  seen  pursuing  a 

du  Roi,  qu'il  etait  a  craindre  qu'apres  qu'elle  cardinal   with    a    scourge    of  foxes'   tails : 

aur.iit  ete  communiquee  aux  autres  seigneurs,  "  Deinde  sequebatur  diabolus,  equum  diet! 

11  ne  lut  pris  quelque  resolution  contraire  au  cardinalis  caudis  vulpinis  fustigans,  magna 

service  du  Roi."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  cum  totius  populi  admiratione  et  scandalo." 

11.,  torn.  i.  p.  294.  (Papiers  d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  viii.  p.  77.) 

37  "Con  la  venida  de  Mons.de  Chantonnay,  The  fox's  tail   was  a  punning    allusion  to 

mi  hermano,  a  Bruxelles,  y  su  determinacion  Renard,  who  took  a  most  active  and  venomous 

de  encaminarse  a  estas  partes,  me  parcscio  part  in  the  paper  war  that  opened  the  revo- 

touiar  color  de  venir  hazia  aci,  donde  no  bavia  lution.    Renard.  it  may  be  remembered,  was 

estado  en  19  afios,  y  ver  ii  madama  de  Gran-  the  imperial  minister  to  England  in  Queen 

vella,  mi  madre,  que  ha  14  que  no  la  havia  Mary's  time.     He  was  the  implacable  enemy 

vUto."    Correspondance  de  Pliilippe  II.,  torn.  of  Granvelle,  who  had  once  been  his  bene- 

i.   p.   298.— Granvelle  seems  to  have  fondly  factor. 


HE  LEAVES  THE  NETHERLANDS.  215 

which,  instead  of  the  aiguillettes  commonly  suspended  from  the  shoulders, 
should  have  nat  pieces  of  cloth,  embroidered  with  the  figure  of  a  head  and  a 
fool's  cap.  The  head  was  made  marvellously  like  that  of  the  cardinal,  and  the 
cap,  being  red,  was  thought  to  bear  much  resemblance  to  a  cardinal's  hat. 
This  was  enough.  The  dress  was  received  with  acclamation.  The  nobles 
instantly  clad  their  retainers  in  the  new  livery,  which  had  the  advantage 
of  greater  economy.  It  became  the  badge  of  party.  The  tailors  of  Brussels 
could  not  find  time  to  supply  their  customers.  Instead  of  being  confined  to 
Granvelle,  the  heads  occasionally  bore  the  features  of  Aerschot,  Aremberg, 
or  Viglius,  the  cardinal's  friends.  The  duchess  at  first  laughed  at  the 
jest,  and  even  sent  some  specimens  of  the  embroidery  to  Philip.  But  Gran- 
velle looked  more  gravely  on  the  matter,  declaring  it  an  insult  to  the  govern- 
ment, and  the  king  interfered  to  have  the  device  given  up.  This  was  not 
easy,  from  the  extent  to  which  it  had  been  adopted.  But  Margaret  at  length 
succeeded  in  persuading  the  lords  to  take  another,  not  personal  in  its  nature. 
The  substitute  was  a  sheaf  of  arrows.  Even  this  was  found  to  have  an  offen- 
sive application,  as  it  intimated  the  league  of  the  nobles.  It  was  the  origin, 
it  is  said,  of  the  device  afterwards  assumed  by  the  Seven  United  Provinces.39 

On  the  thirteenth  of  March,  1564,  Granvelle  quitted  Brussels,— never  to 
return.40  "  The  joy  of  the  nobles  at  his  departure,"  writes  one  of  the  privy 
council,  "  was  excessive.  They  seemed  like  boys  let  loose  from  school." 41 
The  three  lords,  members  of  the  council  of  state,  in  a  note  to  the  duchess, 
declared  that  they  were  ready  to  resume  their  places  at  the  board ;  with  the 
understanding,  however,  that  they  should  retire  whenever  the  minister  re- 
turned.4* Granvelle  haa  given  out  that  his  absence  would  be  of  no  long  dura- 
tion. The  regent  wrote  to  her  brother  in  warm  commendation  of  the  lords. 
It  would  not  do  for  Granvelle  ever  to  return.  She  was  assured  by  the  nobles, 
if  he  did  return,  he  would  risk  the  loss  of  his  life,  and  the  king  the  loss  of  the 
Netherlands.4' 

The  three  lords  wrote  each  to  Philip,  informing  him  that  they  had  re- 
entered  the  council,  and  making  the  most  earnest  protestations  of  loyalty. 
Philip,  on  his  part,  graciously  replied  to  each,  and  in  particular  to  the  prince 
of  Orange,  who  had  intimated  that  slanderous  reports  respecting  himself  had 
found  their  way  to  the  royal  ear.  The  king  declared  "  he  never  could  doubt 
for  a  moment  that  the  prince  would  continue  to  show  the  same  zeal  in  his 
service  that  he  had  always  done ;  and  that  no  one  should  be  allowed  to  cast  a 
reproach  on  a  person  of  his  quality,  and  one  whom  Philip  knew  so  thoroughly." <4 

*•  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  pp.  161-164.—  and  Brederode  indulged  their  wild  humour,  as 

Vander  H«er,  De  Inltils  Tumultuuro  Belgl-  they  saw  the  cardinal  leaving  Brussels,  by 

OTIIIU,  p.  166.— Vandervynckt.  Troubles  dps  mounting  a  horse, — one  in  the  saddle,  the 

Pays-Ban,  torn.  il.  p.  63. — Com  spoiidance  de  other  en  croupe, — and  in  this  way,  muffled  in 

Philippe  II.,  torn.  f.  pp.  294,  295.  their  cloaks,  accompanying  the  traveller  along 

•"  The  date  U  given  by  the  prince  of  Orange  the  heights  for  half  a  league  or  more.  Gran- 
in  a  letter  to  the  landgrave  of  Hes>e,  written  velle  tells  the  story  himself.  In  a  letter  to 
a  fortnight  after  the  cardinal's  departure.  Margaret,  but  dismisses  It  as  the  madcap 
(Archives  de  la  Malson  d'Orange-Nassau,  frolic  of  young  men.  Papiera  d'fitat  de  Gran- 
torn.  I.  p.  226.)  This  fact,  public  and  no-  velle,  torn.  vii.  pp.  410,  426. 
torkms  as  it  was,  is  nevertheless  told  with  the  "  Archives  de  la  Muison  d'Orange-Nassau, 
greatest  discrepancy  of  dates.  Hopper,  one  torn.  1.  p.  226. 

of  Granvelle's  own  friend*,  fixes  the  date  of  "  "  Le  comte  d'Efrmont   lui   a  dit,  enrre 

his  departure  at    the    latter    end    of   May.  autres,  que,  si  le  cardinal  revenaii,  tnduhi- 

(Hecueilet  Memorial,  p.  36.)   Such  discrepan-  tahlement  11  perdralt    U  vie,  et  mettrait  le 

cJes  will  not  Mem  strange  to  the  student  of  Koi  en  risque  de  perdre  les  Pays-Bag."    Corre- 

hlKtory.  spondancede  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  295. 

41  "  KJun  Inimicl,  qni  in  sonatn  erant,  mm  "  "  Je  n'ay  enti-ndii  de  pereonne  chose  dont 

allter  ••xiiltavrre  quant  pui-rl  abounU-  ludi-  je  peusse  concevolr  quelquc  double  que  vous 

magi'tro."    Viu  \  igl.l,  p.  3-«.— llyog.st'aten  ne  fussier,  a  lYudruit  de  mon  service,  tel  que 


216  GRANVELLE  COMPELLED  TO  WITHDRAW. 

It  might  almost  seem  that  a  double  meaning  lurked  under  this  smooth 
language.  But,  whatever  may  have  been  felt,  no  distrust  was  exhibited  on 
either  side.  To  those  who  looked  on  the  surface  only,— and  they  were  a 
hundred  to  one, — it  seemed  as  if  the  dismissal  of  the  cardinal  had  removed  all 
difficulties ;  and  they  now  confidently  relied  on  a  state  of  permanent  tran- 
quillity. But  there  were  others  whose  eyes  looked  deeper  than  the  calm  sun- 
shine that  lay  upon  the  surface, — who  saw,  more  distinctly  than  when  the 
waters  were  ruffled  by  the  tempest,  the  rocks  beneath,  on  which  the  vessel  of 
state  was  afterwards  to  be  wrecked. 

The  cardinal,  on  leaving  the  Low  Countries,  retired  to  his  patrimonial  estate 
at  Besan§on,— embellished  with  all  that  wealth  and  a  cultivated  taste  could 
supply.  In  this  pleasant  retreat  the  discomfited  statesman  found  a  solace  in 
those  pursuits  which  hi  earlier,  perhaps  happier,  days  had  engaged  his  atten- 
tion.44 He  had  particularly  a  turn  for  the  physical  sciences.  But  he  was  fond 
of  letters,  and  in  all  his  tastes  showed  the  fruits  of  a  liberal  culture.  He  sur- 
rounded himself  with  scholars  and  artists,  and  took  a  lively  interest  in  their 
pursuits.  Justus  Lipsius,  afterwards  so  celebrated,  was  his  secretary.  He 
gave  encouragement  to  Plantin,  who  rivalled  in  Flanders  the  fame  of  the 
Aldi  in  Venice.  His  generous  patronage  was  readily  extended  to  genius,  in 
whatever  form  it  was  displayed, — it  is  some  proof  how  widely  extended,  that 
in  the  course  of  his  life  he  is  said  to  have  received  more  than  a  hundred  dedi- 
cations. Though  greedy  of  wealth,  it  was  not  to  hoard  it,  and  his  large 
revenues  were  liberally  dispensed  in  the  foundation  of  museums,  colleges,  and 
public  libraries.  Besan$on,  the  place  of  his  residence,  did  not  profit  least  by 
this  munificence.48 

Such  is  the  portrait  which  historians  have  given  to  us  of  the  minister  in  his 
retirement.  His  own  letters  show  that  with  these  sources  of  enjoyment  he 
did  not  altogether  disdain  others  of  a  less  spiritual  character.  A  letter  to  one 
of  the  regent's  secretaries,  written  soon  after  the  cardinal's  arrival  at  Besan9on, 
concludes  in  the  following  manner :  "  I  know  that  God  will  recompense  men 
according  to  their  deserts.  1  have  confidence  that  he  will  aid  me,  and  that  I 
shall  yet  be  able  to  draw  profit  from  what  my  enemies  designed  for  my  ruin. 
This  is  my  philosophy,  with  which  I  endeavour  to  live  as  joyously  as  I  can, 
laughing  at  the  world,  its  calumnies  and  its  passions." 47 

With  all  this  happy  mixture  of  the  Epicurean  and  the  Stoic,  the  philosophic 
statesman  did  not  so  contentedly  submit  to  his  fate  as  to  forego  the  hope  of 
seeing  himself  soon  reinstated  in  authority  in  the  Netherlands.  "  In  the  course 
of  two  months,"  he  writes,  "  you  may  expect  to  see  me  there." 48  He  kept  up 
an  active  correspondence  with  the  friends  whom  he  had  left  in  Brussels,  and 
furnished  the  results  of  the  information  thus  obtained,  with  his  own  commen- 
taries, to  the  court  at  Madrid.  His  counsel  was  courted,  and  greatly  con- 
sidered, by  Philip ;  so  that  from  the  shades  of  his  retirement  the  banished 

je  vons  ay  cogneu,  ny  suis  si  legier  de  prester  "  Gerlache,  Royaume  des  Pays- Baa,  torn.  1. 

1'oreille  a  ceulx  qui  me  tascheront  de  mettre  p.  79. 

en  timbre  d'ung  personage  de  vostre  qualite,  *'  "  Vela  ma  philosophic,  et  procurer  avec 

et  que  je  cognoi*  si  bien."    Correspondance  tout  cela  de  vivre  le  pins  joyeusement  que 

de  Guillaume  le  Taciturne,  torn.  ii.  p.  76.  Ton  peut,  et  se  rire  du  monde,  des  appassion- 

**  "  Quiero  de  aquf  adelante  bazerme  ciego  nez,  et  de  ce  qu'ilz  dlent  sans  fondement." 

y  sordo,  y  tract ar  con  mis  libros  y  negocios  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn, 

particulares,   y  dexar  el  publico  &  los  que  1.  p.  240. 

tanto  aaben  y  pueden,  y  componerme  quanto  "  "  Ilz  auront  avant  mon  retour,  que  ne 

al  reposo  y  sossiego."    Papiers    d'Etat   de  sera,  a  mon  compte.plus  tost  qued'icyadeux 

CJranvelle,  torn.  viii.  p.  91. — A  pleasing  illu-  mois,  partant  au  commencement  de  juing." 

sion,  as  old  as  the  time  of  Horace's  "  Beatus  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orangc-Nossau,  torn. 

ilk,"  etc.  1.  p.  238. 


THE  GRANVELLE  PAPERS. 


217 


minister  was  still  thought  to  exercise  an  important  influence  on  the  destiny  of 
Flanders. 


A  singular  history  is  attached  to  the  papers 
of  Granvelle.  That  minister  resembled  bis 
master,  Philip  the  Second,  in  the  fertility  of 
his  epistolary  vein.  That  the  king  had  a 
passion  for  writing,  notwithstanding  he  could 
throw  the  burden  of  the  correspondence,  when 
it  suited  him,  on  the  other  party,  is  proved  by 
the  quantity  of  letters  he  left  behind  him. 
The  example  of  the  monarch  seems  to  have 
had  its  influence  on  his  courtiers ;  and  no 
reign  of  that  time  is  illustrated  by  a  greater 
amount  of  written  materials  from  (he  hands 
of  the  principal  actors  in  it.  Far  from  a 
poverty  of  materials,  therefore,  the  historian 
has  much  moie  reason  to  complain  of  an 
tmbarrai  de  richesset. 

Oranvelle  filled  the  highest  posts  in  diffe- 
rent parts  of  the  Spanish  empire ;  and  in  each 
of  these — in  the  Netherlands,  where  he  was 
minister,  in  Naples,  where  he  was  viceroy,  in 
Spain,  where  he  took  the  lead  in  the  cabinet, 
and  in  Besanc,o;i,  whither  he  retired  from 

Eublic  life — he  left  ample  memorials  under 
Is  own  hand  of  his  residence  there.  This 
•wus  particularly  the  cuse  with  Besancon,  his 
native  town,  and  the  favourite  residence  to 
which  he  turned,  as  be  tell.-  us,  from  the  tur- 
moil of  office  to  enjoy  the  sweets  of  privacy, 
— yet  not,  in  truth,  so  sweet  to  him  as  the 
stormy  career  of  the  statesman,  to  judge  from 
the  tenacity  with  which  be  clung  to  office. 

The  cardinal  made  his  library  at  IJesancon 
the  depository  not  merely  of  bis  own  letters, 
but  of  sucb  as  were  addreg8.nl  to  him.  He 
preserved  them  all,  however  humble  the 
sources  whence  they  came,  and,  like  Philip, 
he  was  In  the  habit  of  jotting  down  his  own 
reflections  In  the  margin.  As  Granvelle's 
personal  and  political  relations  connected  him 
with  the  most  important  men  of  bis  time,  we 
may  well  believe  th;it  the  mass  of  correspond- 
ence which  he  gathered  together  was  im- 
mense. Unfortunately,  ut  his  death,  instead 
of  bequeathing  bis  manuscripts  to  some  public 
budy,  who  might  have  been  responsible  for 
the  care  of  them,  be  left  them  to  b  Irs  who 
were  altogether  ignorant  of  their  value.  In 
the  course  of  time  the  manuscripts  found 
their  way  to  the  garret,  where  they  soon  came 
to  be  regarded  as  little  better  than  waste 
paper.  They  were  pilfered  by  the  children 
and  domestics,  and  a  considerable  quantity 
was  sent  off  to  a  neighbouring  grocer,  who 
soon  converted  th^  correspondence  of  the 
great  statesman  into  wrapping-paper  for  his 
spices. 

From  this  ignominious  fate  the  residue  of 
the  collection  was  happily  rescued  by  the  gene- 
rous exertions  of  the  Abbe  Boissot.  TbU 
excellent  and  learned  man  was  the  head  of  the 
Itenedictlne-s  of  St.  Vincent  In  licsancon.  of 
which  tuwn  be  was  himself  a  native.  He  was 
acquainted  with  the  condition  of  the  Grau- 


velle  papers,  and  comprehended  their  import- 
ance. In  the  course  of  eighty  years  which 
had  elapsed  since  the  cardinal's  death,  his 
manuscripts  had  come  to  be  distributed  among 
several  heirs,  some  of  whom  consented  to 
transfer  their  property  gratuitously  to  the 
Abbe  Boissot,  while  he  purchased  that  of 
others.  In  this  way  he  at  length  succeeded  in 
gathering  together  all  that  survived  of  the 
large  collection ;  and  he  made  it  the  great 
business  of  his  subsequent  life  to  study  its 
contents  and  arrange  the  chaotic  mass  of 
papers  with  reference  to  their  subjects.  To 
complete  his  labours,  he  caused  the  manu- 
scripts thus  arranged  to  be  bound,  in  eighty- 
two  volumes,  folio,  thus  placing  them  in  that 
permanent  form  which  might  best  secure 
them  against  future  accident. 

The  abbe  did  not  live  to  publish  to  the  world 
an  account  of  bis  collection,  which  at  his  death 
passed  by  his  will  10  his  brethren  of  the  abbey 
of  St.  Vincent,  on  condition  that  it  should  be 
for  ever  opened  to  the  use  of  the  town  of  Besan- 
$on.  It  may  seem  strange  that,  notwithstand- 
ing the  existence  of  this  valuable  body  of 
original  documents  was  known  to  scholars, 
they  should  so  rarely  have  resorted  to  it  lor 
instruction.  Its  secluded  situation,  in  the 
heart  of  a  remote  province,  was  doubtless 
regarded  as  a  serious  obstacle  by  the  historical 
inquirer,  in  an  age  when  the  public  took 
things  too  readily  on  trust  to  be  very  solici- 
tous about  authentic  K>urces  of  information. 
It  is  more  strange  that  ISoissot's  Benedictine 
brethren  should  have  shown  themselves  so 
insensible  to  the  treasures  under  their  own 
roof.  One  of  their  body,  I)om  Prosper  I'Evet- 
que,  did  Indeed  profit  by  the  liuss.n  collection 
to  give  to  the  world  his  Memoires  de  Granvelle, 
«  work  in  two  volumes  duodecimo,  whi«h, 
notwithstanding  the  materials  at  the  writer's 
command,  contain  little  of  any  worth,  unless 
it  be  an  occasional  extract  from  Granvelle 's 
own  correspondence. 

At  length,  in  1834,  the  subject  drew  the 
attention  of  M.  Guizot,  then  Minister  of  Public 
Instruction  in  France.  By  his  direction  a 
commission  of  five  scholars  was  instituted, 
with  the  learned  Weiss  at  its  head,  for  the 
purpose  of  examining  the  Granvelle  papers, 
with  a  view  to  their  immediate  publication. 
The  work  was  performed  in  a  prompt  and 
accurate  manner,  that  must  have  satisfied  its 
enlightened  projector.  In  1839  the  whole 
series  of  papers  hail  been  subjected  to  a  care- 
ful analysis,  and  the  portion  selected  that  wag 
deemed  proper  tor  publication.  The  first 
volume  appeared  in  1841  ;  and  the  president 
of  the  commission,  M.  Weiss,  expressed  In  his 
preface  the  confident  hope  that  In  the  course 
of  1843  the  remaining  papers  would  all  Ira 
given  to  the  press.  Hut  these  anticipations 
have  not  been  realized.  In  1854  only  nine 


218  CHANGES  DEMANDED  BY  THE  LORDS. 

volumes  had  appeared.  How  far  the  pnblica-  intricate  negotiation,  by  revealing  the  trne 
lion  has  since  advanced  I  am  ignorant.  motives  of  the  parties  who  were  engaged  in  it. 
The  Papiers  d'Etat,  besides  Granvelle's  own  Granvelle  was  in  such  intimate  relations 
letters,  contain  a  large  amount  of  historical  with  the  most  eminent  persons  of  the  time 
materials,  such  as  official  documents,  state  that  his  correspondence  becomes  in  some  sort 
papers,  and  diplomatic  correspondence  of  the  mirror  of  the  age,  reflecting  the  state  of 
foreign  ministers, — that  of  Renard,  for  ex-  opinion  on  the  leading  topics  of  the  day.  For 
ample,  so  often  quoted  in  these  pages.  There  the  same  reason  it  is  replete  wiih  matters  of 
are,  besides,  numerous  letters  both  of  Philip  personal  as  well  as  political  interest  •,  while 
and  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  for  the  earlier  vol-  the  range  of  its  application,  far  from  being 
umes  embrace  the  times  of  the  emperor.  The  confined  to  Spain,  embraces  most  of  the  states 
minister's  own  correspondence  is  not  the  least  of  Europe  with  which  Spain  held  intercourse, 
valuable  part  of  the  collection.  Granvelle  The  French  government  has  done  good  service 
stood  so  high  in  the  confidence  of  his  sovereign  by  the  publication  of  a  work  which  contains 
that,  when  n»t  intrusted  himself  with  the  so  much  for  the  illustration  of  the  history  of 
conduct  of  afFiirs,  he  was  constantly  consulted  the  sixteenth  century.  M.  Weiss,  the  editor, 
by  the  king  as  to  the  best  mode  of  conducting  has  conducted  his  labours  on  the  true  princi- 
thera.  Witb  a  different  fate  from  that  of  most  pies  by  which  an  editor  should  be  guided; 
ministers,  he  retained  his  influence  when  he  and,  far  from  magnifying  his  office  and  tin- 
had  lost  his  place.  Thus  there  were  few  trans-  seasonably  obtruding  himself  on  the  reader's 
actions  of  any  moment  in  which  he  was  not  attention,  he  has  sought  only  to  explain  what 
called  on  directly  or  indirectly  to  take  part.  is  obscure  in  the  text,  and  to  give  such  occa- 
And  his  letters  furnish  a  clue  for  conducting  sional  notices  of  the  writers  as  may  enable 
the  historical  student  through  more  than  one  the  reader  to  understand  their  correspondence. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CHANGES  DEMANDED  BY  THE  LORD& 

Policy  of  Philip— Ascendency  of  the  Nobles— The  Regent's  Embarrassments — Egmont  sent 

to  Spain. 

1564,  1565. 

WE  have  now  arrived  at  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  the  revolution  when,  the 
spirit  of  the  nation  having  been  fully  roused,  the  king  had  been  compelled  to 
withdraw  his  unpopular  minister  and  to  intrust  the  reins  of  government  to 
the  hands  of  the  nobles.  Before  proceeding  further,  it  will  be  well  to  take 
a  brief  survey  of  the  ground,  that  we  may  the  better  comprehend  the  relations 
in  which  the  parties  stood  to  each  other  at  the  commencement  of  the  contest. 

In  a  letter  to  his  sister,  the  regent,  written  some  two  years  after  this  period, 
Philip  says,  "  I  have  never  had  any  other  object  in  view  than  the  good  of  my 
subjects.  In  all  that  I  have  done,  I  have  but  trod  in  the  footsteps  of  my 
father,  under  whom  the  people  of  the  Netherlands  must  admit  they  lived  con- 
tented and  happy.  As  to  the  Inquisition,  whatever  people  may  say  of  it,  I 
have  never  attempted  anything  new.  With  regard  to  the  edicts,  I  have  been 
always  resolved  to  live  and  die  in  the  Catholic  faith.  I  could  not  be  content 
to  have  my  subjects  do  otherwise.  Yet  I  see  not  how  this  can  be  compassed 
without  punishing  the  transgressors.  God  knows  how  willingly  I  would  avoid 
shedding  a  drop  of  Christian  blood, — above  all.  that  of  my  people  in  the 
Netherlands  ;  and  I  should  esteem  it  one  of  the  happiest  circumstances  of  my 
reign  to  be  spared  this  necessity." ' 

Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  sensibility  of  Philip,  or  of  his  tenderness  for 
his  Flemish  subjects  in  particular,  we  cannot  deny  that  the  policy  he  had 
hitherto  pursued  was  substantially  that  of  his  father.  Yet  his  father  lived 
beloved,  and  died  lamented,  by  the  Flemings ;  while  Philip's  course,  from  the 

1  This  remarkable  letter,  dated  Madrid,  May  6th,  is  to  be  found  in  the  Supplement  a  Strada, 
torn  ii  p.  310. 


POLICY  OF  PHILIP.  219 

very  first,  had  encountered  only  odium  and  opposition.    A  little  reflection  will 
show  us  the  reasons  of  these  different  results. 

Both  Charles  and  Philip  came  forward  as  the  great  champions  of  Catholicism. 
But  the  emperor's  zeal  was  so  far  tempered  by  reason  that  it  could  accommo- 
date itself  to  circumstances.  He  showed  this  on  more  than  one  occasion,  both 
in  Germany  and  in  Flanders.  Philip,  on  the  other  hand,  admitted  of  no  com- 
promise. He  was  the  inexorable  foe  of  heresy.  Persecution  was  his  only 
remedy,  and  the  Inquisition  the  weapon  on  which  he  relied.  His  first  act  on 
setting  foot  on  his  native  shore  was  to  assist  at  an  auto  de  fe.  This  pro- 
claimed his  purpose  to  the  world,  and  associated  his  name  indelibly  with  that 
of  the  terrible  tribunal. 

The  free  people  of  the  Netherlands  felt  the  same  dread  of  the  Inquisition 
that  a  free  and  enlightened  people  of  our  own  day  might  be  supposed  to  feel. 
They  looked  with  gloomy  apprenension  to  the  unspeakable  misery  it  was  to 
bring  to  their  firesides,  and  trie  desolation  and  ruin  to  their  country.  Every- 
thing that  could  in  any  way  be  connected  with  it  took  the  dismal  colouring  of 
their  fears.  The  edicts  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  written  in  blood,  became  yet  more 
formidable,  as  declaring  the  penalties  to  be  inflicted  by  this  tribunal.  Even 
the  erection  of  the  bishoprics,  so  necessary  a  measure,  was  regarded  with  dis- 
trust on  account  of  the  inquisitorial  powers  which  of  old  were  vested  in  the 
bishops,  thus  seeming  to  give  additional  strength  to  the  arm  of  persecution. 
The  popular  feeling  was  nourished  by  every  new  convert  to  the  Protestant 
faith,  as  well  as  by  those  who,  from  views  of  their  own,  were  willing  to  fan  the 
flame  of  rebellion. 

Another  reason  why  Philip's  policy  met  with  greater  opposition  than  that  of 
his  predecessor  was  the  change  in  the  condition  of  the  people  themselves. 
Under  the  general  relaxation  of  the  law,  or  rather  of  its  execution,  in  the 
latter  days  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  the  number  of  the  Reformers  had  greatly 
multiplied.  Calvinism  predominated  in  Luxemburg,  Artois,  Flanders,  and  the 
states  lying  nearest  to  France.  Holland,  Zealand,  and  the  North  were  the 
chosen  abode  of  the  Anabaptists.  The  Lutherans  swarmed  in  the  districts 
bordering  on  Germany  ;  while  Antwerp,  the  commercial  capital  of  Brabant, 
and  the  great  mart  of  all  nations,  was  filled  with  sectaries  of  every  description. 
Even  the  Jew,  the  butt  of  persecution  in  the  Middle  Ages,  is  said  to  have 
lived  there  unmolested.  For  such  a  state  of  things  it  is  clear  that  very  diffe- 
rent legislation  was  demanded  than  for  that  which  existed  under  Charles  the 
Fifth.  It  was  one  thing  to  eradicate  a  few  noxious  weeds,  and  quite  another 
to  crush  the  sturdy  growth  of  heresy  which  in  every  direction  now  covered 
the  land. 

A  further  reason  for  the  aversion  to  Philip,  and  one  that  cannot  be  too 
often  repeated,  was  that  he  was  a  foreigner.  Charles  was  a  native  Fleming ; 
and  much  may  be  forgiven  in  a  countryman.  But  Philip  was  a  Spaniard, — 
one  of  the  nation  held  in  the  greatest  aversion  by  the  men  of  the  Netherlands. 
It  should  clearly  have  been  his  policy,  therefore,  to  cover  up  this  defect  in  the 
eyes  of  the  inhabitants  by  consulting  their  national  prejudices,  and  by  a  show, 
at  least,  of  confidence  in  their  leaders.  Far  from  this,  Philip  began  with 
placing  a  Spanish  army  on  their  borders  in  time  of  peace.  The  administration 
lie  committed  to  the  hands  of  a  foreigner.  And  while  he  thus  outraged  the 
national  feeling  at  home,  it  was  remarked  that  into  the  royal  council  at 
Madrid,  where  the  affairs  of  the  Low  Countries,  as  of  the  other  provinces,  were 
settled  in  the  last  resort,  not  a  Fleming  was  admitted.*  The  public  murmured. 

'  Hopper  does  not  hesitate  to  regard  this  contents  In  Flanders  :  "  So  voyann  deseotinipz 
circumstance  as  a  leading  cause  of  ibe  dis-  ou  pour  mieux  dire  opprimez  par  les  Sci- 


220  CHANGES  DEMANDED  BY  THE  LORDS. 

The  nobles  remonstrated  and  resisted.  Philip  was  obliged  to  retrace  his  steps. 
He  made  first  one  concession,  then  another.  He  recalled  his  troops,  removed 
his  minister.  The  nobles  triumphed,  and  the  administration  of  the  country 
passed  into  their  hands.  People  thought  the  troubles  were  at  an  end.  They 
were  but  begun.  Nothing  had  been  done  towards  the  solution  of  the  great 
problem  of  the  rights  of  conscience.  On  this  the  king  and  the  country  were  at 
issue  as  much  as  ever.  All  that  had  been  done  had  only  cleared  the  way  to 
the  free  discussion  of  this  question,  and  to  the  bloody  contest  that  was  to 
follow. 

On  the  departure  of  Granvelle,  the  discontented  lords,  as  we  have  seen, 
again  took  their  seats  in  the  council  of  state.  They  gave  the  most  earnest 
assurances  of  loyalty  to  the  king,  and  seemed  as  if  desirous  to  make  amends 
for  the  past  by  an  extraordinary  devotion  to  public  business.  Margaret 
received  these  advances  in  the  spirit  in  which  they  were  made ;  and  the  confi- 
dence which  she  had  formerly  bestowed  on  Granvelle  she  now  transferred  in 
full  measure  to  his  successful  rivals.* 

It  is  amusing  to  read  her  letters  at  this  period,  and  to  compare  them  with 
those  which  she  wrote  to  Philip  the  year  preceding.  In  the  new  colouring 
given  to  the  portraits,  it  is  hard  to  recognize  a  single  individual.  She  cannot 
speak  too  highly  of  the  services  of  the  lords, — of  the  prince  of  Orange,  and 
Egmont  above  all, — of  their  devotion  to  the  public  weal  and  the  interests  of 
the  sovereign.  She  begs  her  brother  again  and  again  to  testify  his  own  satis- 
tion  by  the  most  gracious  letters  to  these  nobles  that  he  can  write.4  The 
suggestion  seems  to  have  met  with  little  favour  from  Philip.  No  language, 
however,  is  quite  strong  enough  to  express  Margaret's  disgust  with  the  cha- 
racter and  conduct  of  her  former  minister,  Granvelle.  It  is  he  that  has  so 
long  stood  betwixt  the  monarch  and  the  love  of  the  people.  She  cannot  feel 
easy  that  he  should  still  remain  so  near  the  Netherlands.  He  should  be  sent 
to  Rome.*  She  distrusts  his  influence,  even  now,  over  the  cabinet  at  Madrid. 
He  is  perpetually  talking,  she  understands,  of  the  probability  of  his  speedy 
return  to  Brussels.  The  rumour  of  this  causes  great  uneasiness  in  the 
country.  Should  he  be  permitted  to  return,  it  would  undoubtedly  be  the 
signal  for  an  insurrection.6  It  is  clear  the  duchess  had  sorely  suffered  from 
the  tyranny  of  Granvelle.7 

But,  notwithstanding  the  perfect  harmony  which  subsisted  between  Mar- 
garet and  the  principal  lords,  it  was  soon  seen  that  the  wheels  of  government 
were  not  destined  to  run  on  too  smoothly.  Although  the  cardinal  was  gone, 
there  still  remained  a  faction  of  Cardinalists,  who  represented  his  opinions, 
and  who,  if  few  in  number,  made  themselves  formidable  by  the  strength  of 
their  opposition.  At  the  head  of  these  were  the  viscount  de  Barlaimont  and 
the  President  Viglius. 

gneurs  Espaignols,  qnl  chassant  les  antres  *  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

bore  du   Conseil   da  Roy,  participant  seulz  pp.  312,  332,  et  alibi. 

avecq  iceluy,  et  prgsument  de  commander  5  "  II  faudrait  envoyer  le  cardinal  a  Rome." 

aux  Seigneurs  et  Chevaliers  des  Pays  d'em-  Ibid.,  p.  329. 

bas :  ny  plus  nl  moins  qu'ilz  font  a  aultres  *  Ibid.,  p.  295. 

de  Milan,  Naples,  et  Sicille ;  ce  que  eulx  ne  *  Morillon,  in  a  letter  to  Granvelle,  datf  d 

veuillans  souffrir  en  mantere  que  ce  soit,  a  July  9th,  1564,  tells  him  of  the  hearty  hatred 

este  et  est  la  vraye  ou  du  moins  la  principale  in  which  he   is  held  by  the  duchess ;  who, 

cause  de  ces  maulx  et  alterations."    Recueil  whether  she  has  been  told  that  the  minister 

et  Memorial,  p.  79.  only  made  her  his  dupe,  or  from  whatevei 

3  Viglius  makes  many  pathetic  complaints  cause,  never  hears  bis  name  without  cbang- 

on  this  head,  in  his  letteis  to  Granvelle.    See  ing   colour.    Papiers   d'fitat   de   Granvelle, 

Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nossau,  torn  torn,  viii.  p.  131. 
i.  p.  319,  et  alibi. 


ASCENDENCY  OP  THE  NOBLES.  221 

The  former,  head  of  the  council  of  finance,  was  a  Flemish  noble  of  the  first 
class, — yet  more  remarkable  for  his  character  than  for  his  rank  He  was  a 
man  of  unimpeachable  integrity,  staunch  in  his  loyalty  both  to  the  Church 
and  to  the  crown,  with  a  resolute  spirit  not  to  be  shaken,  for  it  rested  on 
principle. 

His  coadjutor,  Viglius,  was  an  eminent  jurist,  an  able  writer,  a  sagacious 
statesman.  He  had  been  much  employed  by  the  emperor  in  public  affairs, 
which  he  managed  with  a  degree  of  caution  that  amounted  almost  to  timidity. 
He  was  the  personal  friend  of  Granvelle,  had  adopted  his  views,  and  carriea 
on  with  him  a  constant  correspondence,  which  is  among  our  best  sources  of 
information.  He  was  frugal  and  moderate  in  his  habits,  not  provoking  criti- 
cism, like  that  minister,  by  his  ostentation  and  irregularities  of  life.  But  he 
was  nearly  as  formidable,  from  the  official  powers  with  which  he  was  clothed, 
and  the  dogged  tenacity  with  which  he  clung  to  his  purposes.  He  filled  the 
high  office  of  president  both  of  the  privy  council  and  of  the  council  of  state, 
and  was  also  keeper  of  the  great  seal.  It  was  thus  obviously  in  his  power  to 
oppose  a  great  check  to  the  proceedings  of  the  opposite  party.  That  he  did 
thus  often  thwart  them  is  attested  by  the  reiterated  complaints  of  the  duchess. 
"  The  president,"  she  tells  her  brother,  "  makes  me  endure  the  pains  of  hell  by 
the  manner  in  which  he  traverses  my  measures."  *  His  real  object,  like  that 
of  Granvelle  and  of  their  followers,  she  says  on  another  occasion,  is  to  throw  the 
country  into  disorder.  They  would  find  their  account  in  fishing  in  the  troubled 
waters.  They  dread  a  state  of  tranquillity,  which  would  attord  opportunity 
for  exposing  their  corrupt  practices  in  the  government* 

To  these  general  charges  of  delinquency  the  duchess  added  others,  of  a  more 
vulgar  peculation.  Viglius,  who  had  taken  priest's  orders  for  the  purpose, 
was  provost  of  the  church  of  St  Bavon.  JVlargaret  openly  accusea  him  of 
purloining  the  costly  tapestries,  the  plate,  the  linen,  the  jewels,  and  even 
considerable  sums  of  money  belonging  to  the  church."  She  insisted  on  the 
impropriety  of  allowing  such  a  man  to  hold  office  under  the  government. 

Nor  was  the  president  silent  on  his  part,  and  in  his  correspondence  with 
Granvelle  he  retorts  similar  accusations  in  full  measure  on  his  enemies.  He 
roundly  taxes  the  great  nobles  with  simony  and  extortion.  Offices,  both 
ecclesiastical  and  secular,  were  put  up  for  sale  in  a  shameless  manner,  and 
disposed  of  to  the  highest  bidder.  It  was  in  this  way  that  the  bankrupt  nobles 
paid  their  debts,  by  l>estowing  vacant  places  on  their  creditors.  Nor  are  the 
regent's  hands,  he  intimates,  altogether  clean  from  the  stain  of  these  transac- 
tions.11 He  accuses  the  lords,  moreover,  of  using  their  authority  to  interfere 
perpetually  with  the  course  of  justice.  They  had  acquired  an  unbounded 
ascendency  over  Margaret,  and  treated  her  with  a  deference  which,  he  adds, 
"  is  ever  sure  to  captivate  the  sex." If  She  was  more  especially  under  the 

•  "Viglius  Ini  fait  souffrir  les  pelnes  de  "  Ibid.,  p.  320,  et  alibi. 

1'enfer,  en  traversant  les  mesures  qu'exige  le  "  "Ce  qu'elle  Be  resent  le  plus  contre  v.  1. 

service  <lu   Roi."    Papiera  d'£tat  de  <iran-  8.  et  centre  moy.est  ceque  I'avoiiB  si  longue- 

velle,  torn.  vlll.  p.  314.  m«-nt   garde  d'en   faire  son   pruuffit,  qu  Vile 

*  "  IU  esperent  alors  pecher,   cotnme   on  fait  matntenant  des  Offices  et   benefices  et 
<1 1,  en  eau  trouble,  et  atteindre  le  but  qu'ils  aultres    graces."      Archives   de    la    Maisun 
poursuivent     depuls    longtemps :    celui    do  d'Orauge-Nassau,  t»m.  i.  p.  406. 
s'emparer  de  toutes  les  affaires.    C'est  pour-  "  •  •  Ipsam  etiam  Ducissam  In  suani  per- 
quol  Us  ont  4tc  et  sont  encore  contraires  a  traxere    sentontiam,    honore    etiam    niajoro 
1  oaaemblec  des  etats  generaux.  .  .  .  Le  car-  quam  antes  Ipeani  aftlclenK's,  quo  muliebris 
dlnal,  le  president  et  leur  sequelle  craignent,  sexus   facile  capitur." — Thin  remark,   bow- 
si   la  traiinutlllte  se  retahlit  dans  le  pays,  ever.  Is  taken,  not  from  bis  correspondence 
qu'on  ne  lice  dans  lenrs  Uvres,  ct  qu'un  ne  with  Ornnvelle,  but  from  bis  autobiography. 
decouvre    leure    injustices,  simonies,  et  ra-  See  Vita  Viglli,  p.  40. 

pines."    Ibid.,  p.  311. 


222  CHANGES  DEMANDED  BY  THE  LORDS. 

influence  of  her  secretary,  Armenteros,  a  creature  of  the  nobles,  who  profited 
by  his  position  to  fill  his  own  coffers  at  the  expense  of  the  exchequer/3  Foi 
himself,  he  is  in  such  disgrace  for  his  resistance  to  these  disloyal  proceeding 
that  the  duchess  excludes  him  as  far  as  possible  from  the  management  ol 
affairs,  and  treats  him  with  undisguised  coldness.  Nothing  but  the  desire  to 
do  his  duty  would  induce  him  to  remain  a  day  longer  in  a  post  like  this,  from 
which  his  only  wish  is  that  his  sovereign  would  release  him.14 

The  president  seems  never  to  have  written  directly  to  Philip.  It  would 
only  expose  him,  he  said,  to  the  suspicions  and  the  cavils  of  his  enemies.  The 
wary  statesman  took  warning  by  the  fate  of  Granyelle.  But,  as  his  letters  to 
the  banished  minister  were  all  forwarded  to  Philip,  the  monarch,  with  the 
despatches  of  his  sister  before  him,  had  the  means  of  contemplating  both  sides 
of  the  picture,  and  of  seeing  that,  to  whichever  party  he  intrusted  the 
government,  the  interests  of  the  country  were  little  likely  to  be  served.  Had 
it  been  his  father,  the  emperor,  who  was  on  the  throne,  such  knowledge  would 
not  have  been  in  his  possession  four-and-twenty  hours  before  he  would  have 
been  on  his  way  to  the  Netherlands.  But  Philip  was  of  a  more  sluggish 
temper.  He  was  capable,  indeed,  of  much  passive  exertion, — of  incredible 
toil  in  the  cabinet, — and  from  his  palace,  as  was  said,  would  have  given  law 
to  Christendom.  But  rather  than  encounter  the  difficulties  of  a  voyage  he 
was  willing,  it  appears,  to  risk  the  loss  of  the  finest  of  his  provinces.15 

Yet  he  wrote  to  his  sister  to  encourage  her  with  the  prospect  of  his  visiting 
the  country  as  soon  as  he  could  be  released  from  a  war  in  which  he  was 
engaged  with  the  Turks.  He  invited  her,  at  the  same  time,  to  send  him 
further  particulars  of  the  misconduct  of  Viglius,  and  expressed  the  hope  that 
some  means  might  be  found  of  silencing  his  opposition.16 

It  is  not  easy  at  this  day  to  strike  the  balance  between  the  hostile  parties, 
so  as  to  decide  on  the  justice  of  these  mutual  accusations  and  to  assign  to 
each  the  proper  share  of  responsibility  for  the  mismanagement  of  the  govern- 
ment. That  it  was  mismanaged  is  certain.  That  offices  were  put  up  for  sale 
is  undeniable ;  for  the  duchess  frankly  discusses  the  expediency  of  it,  in  a 
letter  to  her  brother.  This,  at  least,  absolves  the  act  from  the  imputation  of 
secrecy.  The  conflict  of  the  council  of  state  with  the  two  other  councils  often 
led  to  disorders,  since  the  decrees  passed  by  the  privy  council,  which  had 
cognizance  of  matters  of  justice,  were  frequently  frustrated  by  the  amnesties 
and  pardons  granted  by  the  council  of  state.  To  remedy  this,  the  nobles 
contended  that  it  was  necessary  to  subject  the  decrees  of  the  other  councils  to 

13  The  extortions  of  Margaret's  secretary,  lowest  ebb.    Public  offices  are  disposed  of  at 
who  was  said  to  have  amassed  a  fortune  of  private  sale.    The  members  of  the  council 
seventy  thousand  ducats  in  her  service,  led  indulge  in  the  greatest  freedom  in  their  dis- 
the  i*ople,  instead  of  Armenteros,  punningly  cussions  on  matters  of  religion.     It  is  plain 
to  call  him  Argenterioi.    This  piece  of  scandal  that  the  Confession  of  Augsburg  would  be 
is  communicated  for  the  royal  ear  in  a  letter  acceptable  to  some  of  them.    The  truth  is 
addressed  to  one  of  the  king's  secretaries  by  never  allowed  to  reach  the  king's  ears ;  as 
Fray  Lorenzo  de  Villacancio,  of  whom  I  shall  the  letters  sent  to  Madrid  are  written  to  suit 
give  a  full  account  elsewhere.    Gachard,  Cor-  the  majority  of  the  council,  and  so  as  not  to 
respondance  de  Philippe  JI.,  torn,  ii.,  Hap-  give  an  unfavourable  view  of  the  country, 
port,  p.  xliii.  Viglius  is  afraid  to  write.    There  are  spies  at 

14  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  the  court,  he  says,  who  would  betray  his  cor- 
tom.  i.  p.  273,  et  alibi.  respondents,  and  it  might  cost  him  his  life. 

"  Granvelle  regarded  such  a  step  as  the  Granvelle  concludes  by  urging  the   king  to 

only  eifectual  remedy  for  the  disorders  in  the  come  in  person,  and  with  money  enough  to 

Low  Countries.     In  a  remarkable  letter  to  subsidize  a  force  to  support  him.     Papiers 

Philip,  dated  July  20th,  1565,  he  presents  d'fitat  de  Granvelle,  torn.  viii.  p.  620,  et  seq. 
such  a  view  of  the   manner  in  which  the  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

government  is  conducted  as  might  well  alarm  p.  317. 
his  master.    Justice  and  religion  are  at  the 


ASCENDENCY  OF  THE  NOBLES.  223 

ie  revision  of  the  council  of  state,  and,  in  a  word,  to  concentrate  in  this  last 

ody  the  whole  authority  of  government.17    The  council  of  state,  composed 

Briefly  of  the  great  aristocracy,  looked  down  with  contempt  on  those  subordi- 

ate  councils,  made  up  for  the  most  part  of  men  of  humbler  condition,  pledged 

ly  their  elevation  to  office  to  maintain  the  interests  of  the  crown.    They 

yould  have  placed  the  administration  of  the  country  in  the  hands  of  an 

oligarchy,  made  up  of  the  great  Flemish  nobles.    This  would  be  to  break  up 

that  system  of  distribution  into  separate  departments  established  by  Charles 

the  Fifth  for  the  more  perfect  despatch  of  business.    It  would,  in  short,  be 

such  a  change  in  the  constitution  of  the  country  as  would  of  itself  amount  to 

a  revolution. 

In  the  state  of  things  above  described,  the  Reformation  gained  rapidly  in 
the  country.  The  nobles  generally,  as  has  been  already  intimated,  were  loyal 
to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  Many  of  the  younger  nobility,  however,  who 
had  been  educated  at  Geneva,  returned  tinctured  with  heretical  doctrines 
from  the  school  of  Calvin.1*  But,  whether  Catholic  or  Protestant,  the  Flemish 
aristocracy  looked  with  distrust  on  the  system  of  persecution,  and  held  the 
Inquisition  in  the  same  abhorrence  as  did  the  great  body  of  the  people.  It 
was  fortunate  for  the  Reformation  in  the  Netherlands  that  at  its  outset  it 
received  the  support  even  of  the  Catholics,  who  resisted  the  Inquisition  as  an 
outrage  on  their  political  liberties. 

Under  the  lax  administration  of  the  edicts,  exiles  who  had  fled  abroad  from 
persecution  now  returned  to  Flanders.  Calvinist  ministers  and  refugees  from 
France  crossed  the  borders  and  busied  themselves  with  the  work  of  proselytism. 
Seditious  pamphlets  were  circulated,  calling  on  the  regent  to  confiscate  the 
ecclesiastical  revenues  and  apply  them  to  the  use  of  the  state,  as  had  been 
done  in  England.1'  The  Inquisition  became  an  object  of  contempt  almost  as 
much  as  of  hatred.  Two  of  the  principal  functionaries  wrote  to  Philip  that 
without  further  support  they  could  be  of  no  use  in  a  situation  which  exposed 
them  only  to  derision  and  danger.20  At  Bruges  and  at  Brussels  the  mob 
entered  the  prisons  and  released  the  prisoners.  A  more  flagrant  violation 
of  justice  occurred  at  Antwerp.  A  converted  friar,  named  Fabricius,  who  had 
been  active  in  preaching  and  propagating  the  new  doctrines,  was  tried  and 
sentenced  to  the  stake.  On  the  way  to  execution,  the  people  called  out  to 
him,  from  the  balconies  and  the  doorways,  to  "  take  courage,  and  endure 
manfully  to  the  last"  "  When  the  victim  was  bound  to  the  stake,  and  the 
pile  was  kindled,  the  mob  discharged  such  a  volley  of  stones  at  the  officers  as 
speedily  put  them  to  flight.  But  the  unhappy  man,  though  unscathed  by  the 
fire,  was  stabbed  to  the  heart  by  the  executioner,  who  made  his  escape  in  the 
tumult  The  next  morning,  placards  written  in  blood  were  found  affixed  to 
the  public  buildings,  threatening  vengeance  on  all  who  had  had  any  part  in 

"  Hopper,  HI  rurii  (t  Memorial,  p.  39.—  "  "8e  dice  publico  que  ay  medios  para 

Archives  de  la  Maiaon  d'Orange-Nassan,  torn.  descargar  todas  lag  deudas  del  Rey  Bin  cargo 

i.  p.  222.— Corresnondance  de  Pbillppe  II.,  del  pueblo,  tomando  loa  blenes  de  la  gente  de 

torn.  I.  p.  347,  et  alibi.  yglesia  6  parte,  confonne  al  ejemplo  que  se 

"  The   Spanish    ambassador  to  England,  ha  hecbo  en  ynglaterra  y  Irani  ia,  y  tarobien 

Guzman  de  Silva,  in  a  letter  daU>d  from  the  que  ellos  eran  iiiny  ricos  y  volbeiian   mas 

Low  Gmntriis,  refers  this  tendency  among  U-mplados  y  honibres  de  Men."     Iltnom  de 

the  younger  nobles  to  their  lax  education  at  Fraticia,  Alborotos  de  Flumlca,  MS. 

home,    and    to   their  travels    abroad :    "  La  ""    "  I  .«-ur    office    est   devenu    odleux    an 

DobU-BHcdn  pay  Beat  generalrment  cathollque :  peuple;  its  rencontrent  tin  it  de  resistances  et 

It  n'y  a  que  les  jeunes  gens  dont,  a  cause  de  de  calomnles,   qu'ila  ne    peuvent    1'exercer 

refutation  relacbee  qn  ils  out  recue,  et  de  sans  danger  pour  leurs  persunnea."    Corre- 

lenr  frequentation  dans  les  pays  voiding,  les  spondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  363. 

prlnclpes  solent  un  peu  equivoques."    Cor-  "   I'randt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Couo- 

respondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  383.  tries,  torn.  i.  p.  147. 


224  CHANGES  DEMANDED  BY  THE  LORDS. 

the  execution  of  Fabricius  ;  and  one  of  the  witnesses  against  him,  a  wonitn, 
hardly  escaped  with  life  from  the  hands  of  the  populace. 

The  report  of  these  proceedings  caused  a  great  sensation  at  Madrid  ;  g/id 
Philip  earnestly  called  on  his  sister  to  hunt  out  and  pursue  the  offenders. 
This  was  not  easy,  where  most  even  of  those  who  did  not  join  in  the  act  fu;ly 
shared  in  the  feeling  which  led  to  it  Yet  Philip  continued  to  urge  tje 
necessity  of  enforcing  the  laws  for  the  preservation  of  the  Faith,  as  the  thing 
dearest  to  his  heart.  He  would  sometimes  indicate  in  his  letters  the  name  of 
a  suspicious  individual,  his  usual  dress,  his  habits  and  appearance, — descend- 
ing into  details  which  may  well  surprise  us,  considering  the  multitude  of 
affairs  of  a  weightier  character  that  pressed  upon  his  mind.2*  One  cannot 
doubt  that  Philip  was  at  heart  an  inquisitor. 

Yet  the  fires  of  persecution  were  not  permitted  wholly  to  slumber.  The 
historian  of  the  Reformation  enumerates  seventeen  who  suffered  capitally  for 
their  religious  opinions  in  the  course  of  the  year  1564.24  This,  though  pitiable, 
was  a  small  number — if  indeed  it  be  the  whole  number — compared  with  the 
thousands  who  are  said  to  have  perished  in  the  same  space  of  time  in  the 
preceding  reign.  It  was  too  small  to  produce  any  effect  as  a  persecution, 
while  the  sight  of  the  martyr,  singing  hymns  in  the  midst  of  the  flames 
only  kindled  a  livelier  zeal  in  the  spectators,  and  a  deeper  hatred  for  thei. 
oppressors. 

The  finances  naturally  felt  the  effects  of  the  general  disorder  of  the  countrj 
The  public  debt,  already  large,  as  we  have  seen,  was  now  so  much  increase* 
that  the  yearly  deficiency  in  the  revenue,  according  to  the  regent's  own  state 
ment,  amounted  to  six  hundred  thousand  florins ; 2i  and  she  knew  of  no  waj 
of  extricating  the  country  from  its  embarrassments,  unless  the  king  shoulc 
come  to  its  assistance.  The  convocation  of  the  states-general  was  insisted  on 
as  the  only  remedy  for  these  disorders.  That  body  alone,  it  was  contended, 
was  authorized  to  vote  the  requisite  subsidies  and  to  redress  the  manifold 
grievances  of  the  nation.  Yet  in  point  of  fact  its  powers  had  hitherto  been 
little  more  than  to  propose  the  subsidies  for  the  approbation  of  the  several 
provinces,  and  to  remonstrate  on  the  grievances  of  the  nation.  To  invest  the 
states-general  with  the  power  of  redressing  these  grievances  would  bestow  on 
them  legislative  functions  which  they  had  rarely,  if  ever,  exercised.  This 
would  be  to  change  the  constitution  of  the  country,  by  the  new  weight  it 
would  give  to  the  popular  element ;  a  change  which  the  great  lords,  who  had 
already  the  lesser  nobles  entirely  at  their  disposal,26  would  probably  know 
well  how  to  turn  to  account.27  Yet  Margaret  had  now  so  entirely  resigned 
herself  to  their  influence  that,  notwithstanding  the  obvious  consequences  of 
these  measures,  she  recommended  to  Philip  both  to  assemble  tne  states- 

"  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Conn-  Nassau,  torn.  1.  p.  426. 

tries,  torn.  i.  p.  147. — Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  "  That  Granvelle  understood  well  these 

p.  174. — Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  consequences  of  convening  the  states-general 

i.  pp.  321,  327.  is  evident  from  the  munner  in  which  he  re- 

'•"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  p.  172. — Corre-  peatedly  speaks  of  this  event  in  his  corre- 

spondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  327,  et  spondence  with  the  king.    See,  in  particular, 

alibi.  a  letter  10  Philip,  dated  as  early  as  August 

34  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Coun-  20tb,  1563,  where  he  sums  up  his  remarks  on 

tries,  torn.  i.  pp.  146-149.  the  matter  by  saying,  "In  flue,  they  would 

'•"  "  La  depense  excede  annnellement  les  entirely  change  tbe  lorm  of  government,  so 

revenus,  de  600,000  florins."    Correspondance  that  there  would  be  little  remaining  for  the 

de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  328.  regent  to  do,  as  the  representative  of  your 

**  "  Quant  a  la  moyenne  noblesse  des  Pays-  majesty,  or  for  your  majesty  yourself  to  do, 

Ris,  les  Seigneurs  1'auront  tantost  a  leur  cor-  since  they  would  have  completely  put  you 

delle."     Chantonnay  to  Granvelle,  October  under  guardianship."  Papiers d'Htat  de  Grun- 

6th,  1565,  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-  velle,  torn.  vii.  p.  186. 


THE  REGENT'S  EMBARRASSMENTS.  225 

general  and  to  remodel  the  council  of  state ; M — and  this  to  a  monarch  more 
jea!om  of  his  authority  than  any  other  prince  in  Europe  ! 

To  add  to  the  existing  troubles,  orders  were  received  from  the  court  of 
Madrid  to  publish  the  decrees  of  the  Council  of  Trent  throughout  the  Nether- 
lands. That  celebrated  council  had  terminated  its  long  session  in  1563,  with 
the  results  that  might  have  been  expected,— those  of  widening  the  breach 
l>etween  Protestant  and  Catholic,  and  of  enlarging,  or  at  least  more  firmly 
establishing,  the  authority  of  the  pope.  One  good  result  may  be  mentioned, 
that  of  providing  for  a  more  strict  supervision  of  the  morals  and  discipline  of 
the  clergy, — a  circumstance  which  caused  the  decrees  to  be  in  extremely  bad 
odour  with  that  body. 

It  was  hoped  tliat  Philip  would  imitate  the  example  of  France,  and  reject 

decrees  which  thus  exalted  the  power  of  the  pope.    Men  were  led  to  expect 

this  the  more,  from  the  mortification  which  tne  king  had  lately  experienced 

from  a  decision  of  the  pontift'  on  a  question  of  precedence  between  the  Castilian 

and  French  ambassadors  at  his  court    This  delicate  matter,  long  pending, 

had  been  finally  determined  in  favour  of  France  by  Pius  the  Fifth,  who  may 

liave  thought  it  more  politic  to  secure  a  fickle  ally  than  to  reward  a  firm  one. 

The  decision  touched  Philip  to  the  quick.    He  at  once  withdrew  his  ambassador 

/from  Rome,  and  refused  to  receive  an  envoy  from  his  holiness.29    It  seemed 

that  a  serious  rapture  was  likely  to  take  place  between  the  parties.    But  it 

.1  vas  not  in  the  nature  of  Philip  to  be  long  at  feud  with  the  court  of  Rome. 

f    In  a  letter  to  the  duchess  of  Parma,  dated  August  6th,  1564,  he  plainly 

'    intimated  that  in  matters  of  faith  he  was  willing  at  all  times  to  sacrifice  his 

private  feelings  to  the  public  weal.30    He  consequently  commanded  the  decrees 

of  the  Council  of  Trent  to  be  received  as  law  throughout  his  dominions,  saying 

that  he  could  make  no  exception  for  the  Netherlands,  when  he  made  none  for 

Spain." 

The  promulgation  of  the  decrees  was  received,  as  had  been  anticipated, 
with  general  discontent  The  clergy  complained  of  the  interference  with  their 
immunities.  The  men  of  Brabant  stood  stoutly  on  the  chartered  rights 
secured  to  them  by  the  "  Joyetige  Entrde."  And  the  people  generally  resisted 
the  decrees,  from  a  vague  idea  of  their  connection  with  the  Inquisition  ; 
while,  as  usual  when  mischief  was  on  foot,  they  loudly  declaimed  against  Gran- 
velle  as  being  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

In  this  unhappy  condition  of  affairs,  it  was  determined  by  the  council  of 
state  to  send  some  one  to  Madrid  to  lay  the  grievances  of  the  nation  before 
the  king,  and  to  submit  to  him  what  in  their  opinion  would  be  the  most 
effectual  remedy.  They  were  the  more  induced  to  this  by  the  unsatisfactory 
nature  of  the  royal  correspondence.  Philip,  to  the  great  discontent  of  the 
lords,  had  scarcely  condescended  to  notice  their  letters.*1  Even  to  Margaret's 

*•  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1.  confidence.  The  prince's  cuitine,  as  I  have 

p.  329.  elsewhere  Mated,  was  renowned  over  the  Con- 

•"  Cabrera,  Fillpe  Stfrtindn.  lib.  vi.  cap.  14,  Uncut ;  and  Philip  requested  of  him  his  chef, 

16. — Stradit,  De  Ih-llo  Kelgico,  t»m.  I.  p.  176.  to  take  the  place  uf  hi*  own,  lately  deceased. 

*°  Strada,  Ite  Hello  Belgico,  torn.  I.  p.  179.  But  the  king  seems  to  lay  less  stress  on  the 

11  "81,  apres  avo  r  accepte  le  concile  sans  skill  of  this  functionary  than  on  his  trn-i- 

Itiiiit.itiimH  dans  t»us  ses  autres  royanuies  et  worthiness,  a  point  of  greater  moment  with 

sHimeuries,  il  allait  y  opposer  des  reservi-a  a  monarch.  This  was  a  compliment — In  that 

AUX  Pays-Ba«,  cela  produirait  tin  facheux  suspicious  age — to  William,  which,  we  inm- 

rff»'t."  Correspondance  dc  Philippe  II  ,  torn.  glue,  ho  would  have  been  slow  to  return  by 

i.  p.  .T.M.  placing  hia  life  in  the  hands  of  a  cook  from 

'•  Yet  whatever  slight  Philip  may  have  the  roynl  kitchens  of  Madrid.  Sec  Philip's 

nut  upon  the  lords  In  this  respect,  he  slu>\\ed  letter  in  the  Correspondance  de  Guillauiue  le 

Willl.im,  In  p  rtlnilar,  a  ringular  |  r  of  of  Taciturue,  torn.  li.  p.  88. 


228  CHANGES  DEMANDED  BY  THE  LORDS. 

ample  communications  he  rarely  responded,  and,  when  he  did,  it  was  in  vague 
and  general  terms,  conveying  little  more  than  the  necessity  of  executing 
justice  and  watching  over  the  purity  of  the  Faith. 

The  pei-son  selected  for  the  unenviable  mission  to  Madrid  was  Egmont, 
whose  sentiments  of  loyalty,  and  of  devotion  to  the  Catholic  faith,  it  was 
thought,  would  recommend  him  to  the  king ;  while  his  brilliant  reputation, 
his  rank,  and  his  popular  manners  would  find  favour  with  the  court  and  the 
people.  Egmont  himself  was  the  less  averse  to  the  mission,  that  he  had  some 
private  suits  of  his  own  to  urge  with  the  monarch. 

This  nomination  was  warmly  supported  by  William,  between  whom  and 
the  count  a  perfectly  good  understanding  seems  to  have  subsisted,  in  spite  of 
the  efforts  of  the  Cardlnalists  to  revive  their  ancient  feelings  of  jealousy.    Yet 
these  feelings  still  glowed  in  the  bosoms  of  the  wives  of  the  two  nobles,  as 
was  evident  from  the  warmth  with  which  they  disputed  the  question  of  p~ " 
cedence  with  each  other.     Both  were  of  the  highest  rank,  and,  as  there  5 
no  umpire  to  settle  the  delicate  question,  it  was  finally  arranged  by  the  t 
ladies  appearing  in  public  always  arm  in  arm, — an  equality  which  the  haughc 
dames  were  careful  to  maintain,  in  spite  of  the  ridiculous  embarrassment 
to  which  they  were  occasionally  exposed  by  narrow  passages  and  doorways.' 
If  the  question  of  precedence  had  related  to  character,  it  would  have  bV 
easily  settled.    The  "troubles  from  the  misconduct  of  Anne  of  Saxony  bore  b 
heavily  on  the  prince,  her  husband,  at  this  very  time,  as  the  troubles  of  tK 
state.34 

Before  Egmont's  departure,  a  meeting  of  the  council  of  state  was  called,  t 
furnish  him  with  the  proper  instructions.     The  president,  Viglius,  gave  it  a 
his  opinion  that  the  mission  was  superfluous,  and  that  the  great  nobles  ha< 
only  to  reform  their  own  way  of  living  to  bring  about  the  necessary  reform; 
in  the  country.     Egmont  was  instructed  by  the  regent  to  represent  to  the 
king  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  land,  the  prostration  of  public  credit,  the 
decay  of  religion,  and  the  symptoms  of  discontent  and  disloyalty  in  the  peoplr 
As  the  most  effectual  remedy  for  these  evils,  he  was  to  urge  the  king  to  come 
in  person,  and  that  speedily,  to  Flanders.     "  If  his  majesty  does  not  approve 
of  this,"  said  Margaret,  "  impress  upon  him  the  necessity  of  making  further 
remittances,  and  of  giving  me  precise  instructions  as  to  the  course  I  am  to 
pursue."  ** 

The  prince  of  Orange  took  part  in  the  discussion  with  a  warmth  he  had 
rarely  shown.  It  was  time,  he  said,  that  the  king  should  be  disabused  of  the 

**  Margaret  would  fain  have  settled  the  i>aivete,  declares  he  could  have  home  her  ill- 
dispute  by  giving  the  countess  of  Kgmont  humour  to  a  reasonable  extent  in  private,  but 
precedence  at  table  over  her  fair  rival.  (Ar-  in  public  it  was  intolerable.  Unhappily,  Anne 
chives  de  la  Muison  d'Orange- Nassau,  torn.  i.  gave  more  serious  cause  of  disturbance  to  her 
p.  445.)  But  both  Anne  of  Saxony  and  her  lord  than  that  which  arose  from  her  temper, 
household  stoutly  demurred  to  this  decision,  and  which  afterwards  led  to  their  separation. 
— perhaps  to  the  right  of  the  regent  to  make  On  the  present  occasion,  it  may  be  added,  the 
it.  "  l.es  femmes  ne  se  cedent  en  rien  et  se  letter  was  not  sent, — as  tlie  lady,  who  had 
tiegnent  par  le  bras,  ingredientes  part  patsu,  learned  the  nature  of  it,  promised  amendment, 
et  si  Ton  rencontre  une  porre  trop  estroicie,  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  lorn. 
Ton  se  serre  Vnng  sur  1'aultre  pour  passer  ii.  p.  31. 

egalement  par  ensamble,  affin  que  il  n'y  ayt  "  "  An  cas  que  le  Roi  s'en  excuse,  il  doit 

du  devant  on  derriere."     Archives  de  la  Mai-  demander  qne  S.  M.  donne  a  la  duchesse  iles 

son  d'Orange-Nassau,  Supplement,  p.  22.  instructions  precises  sur  la  conduite  qu'elle  a 

"  There  is  a  curious  epistle,  in  Groen's  col-  a  tenir."  Correspondence  de  Philippe  II., 
lection,  from  William  to  his  wife's  uncl<-,  the  torn.  I.  p.  337. — The  original  insimctions  pro- 
elector  of  Saxony,  containing  sundry  charges  pared  by  Viglius  were  subsequently  modifM 
against  his  niece  The  termagant  lady  was  by  his  friend  Hopper,  at  the  suggestion  of  the 
in  the  habit,  it  seems,  of  rating  her  husband  prince  of  Orange.  See  Vita  Viglii,  p.  41. 
roundly  before  company.  William,  with  some 


' 


EGMONT  SENT  TO  SPAIN.  227 

errors  under  which  he  laboured  in  respect  to  the  Netherlands.  The  edicts 
must  be  mitigated.  It  was  not  possible,  in  the  present  state  of  feeling,  either 
to  execute  the  edicts  or  to  maintain  the  Inquisition.*8  The  Council  of  Trent 
was  almost  equally  odious  ;  nor  could  they  enforce  its  decrees  in  the  Nether- 
lands while  the  countries  on  the  borders  rejected  them.  The  people  would  no 
longer  endure  the  perversion  of  justice  and  the  miserable  wrangling  of  the 
councils.  This  last  blow  was  aimed  at  the  president.  The  only  remedy  was 
to  enlarge  the  council  of  state  and  to  strengthen  its  authority.  For  his  own 
part,  he  concluded,  he  could  not  understand  how  any  prince  could  claim  the 
right  of  interfering  with  the  consciences  of  his  subjects  in  matters  of  religion.1' 
The  impassioned  tone  of  his  eloquence,  so  contrary  to  the  usually  calm  manner 
of  William  the  Silent,  and  the  coldness  with  which  he  avowed,  his  opinions, 
caused  a  great  sensation  in  the  assembly.38  That  night  was  passed  by  Tiglius, 
who  gives  his  own  account  of  the  matter,  in  tossing  on  his  bed,  painfully 
ruminating  on  his  forlorn  position  in  the  council,  with  scarcely  one  to  support 
him  in  the  contest  which  he  was  compelled  to  wage?  not  merely  with  the 
nobles,  but  with  the  regent  herself.  The  next  morning,  while  dressing,  he 
was  attacked  by  a  fit  of  apoplexy,  which  partially  deprived  him  of  the  use  of 
both  his  speech  and  his  limbs.*'  It  was  some  time  before  he  could  resume 
his  place  at  the  board.  This  new  misfortune  furnished  him  with  a  substantial 
argument  for  soliciting  the  king's  permission  to  retire  from  office.  In  this  he 
was  warmly  seconded  by  Margaret,  who,  while  she  urged  the  president's 
incapacity,  nothing  touched  by  his  situation,  eagerly  pressed  her  brother  to 
call  him  to  account  for  his  delinquencies,  and  especially  his  embezzlement  of 
the  church  property.4* 

Philip,  who  seems  to  have  shunned  any  direct  intercourse  with  his  Flemish 
subjects,  had  been  averse  to  have  Egmont,  or  any  other  envoy,  sent  to  Madrid. 
On  learning  that  the  mission  was  at  length  settled,  he  wrote  to  Margaret 
that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  receive  the  count  graciously  and  to  show  no 
discontent  with  the  conduct  of  the  lords.  That  the  journey,  however,  was 
not  without  its  perils,  may  be  inferred  from  a  singular  document  that  has 
been  preserved  to  us.  It  is  signed  by  a  number  of  Egmont's  personal  friends, 
each  of  whom  traced  his  signature  in  his  own  blood.  In  this  paper  the 
parties  pledge  their  faith,  as  true  knights  and  gentlemen,  that  if  any  harm 
be  done  to  Count  Egmont  during  his  absence  they  will  take  ample  vengeance 
on  Cardinal  Granvelie,  or  whoever  might  be  the  author  of  it.41  The  cardinal 
seems  to  have  been  the  personification  of  evil  with  the  Flemings  of  every 
degree.  This  instrument,  which  was  deposited  with  the  Countess  Egmont, 
was  subscribed  with  the  names  of  seven  nobles,  most  of  them  afterwards  con- 

14  Vita  Viglli,  ubi  supra,  vertiendum  apoploxia  attactus  eet,  ut  occur- 

*'  " Nun  POKM  ei  placere,  vellc  Principes  rentes    domestic!   amicique  in  sumino  eum 

anlmls   hotnmum    tmperare,    libertatemque  dlscrimlne  vtrsari  judicarent."     Vita  Vlglii, 

Fidel  et  Rellgionis  ip-is  adimere."    Ibid.,  p.  p.  42. 

42.  40  "  Elle  conseille  au  Rol  d'ordonner  a  VI- 

"  Burgundius    puts    Into    the   mouth    of  pllii*  do  rcndre  sea  coiuptes,  et  de  restituer 

William  on  this  occasion  a  fine  piece  of  dc-  le.-  meubles  des  neuf  maiaons  de  M  pre  vote 

clamaiion,  in  which  lie  reviews  the  history  of  de  Salnt-Bavon,  qu'll  a  depoulllces."    Corre- 

hcresy  Tom  the  time  ofConrtantine  UioQivat  spondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  p.  350. 

downwards.      This    display    of  school-boy  "  "  Lui    promotion*,    en   foy   do   gentll- 

eruditinn,  go  unlike  the  masculine  simplicity  hommc  et  chevalier  d'honeur  si  durant  ROM 

of  the  prince  of  Orange,  may  be  set  down  aller  et  retour   lul  adviene  quelque  notable 

among  thone  fine  things,  the  credit  of  which  Inconvcnii  nt,  one  nous  en  prcndrons  la  ven- 

may  be  fairly  given  to  the  historian  rather  geance  sur  le  Cardinal  de  Ornnvelle  on  oeux 

than  in  the  hero.    Burgundius,  Hist.  Belgica  qui   en  herotit  participant   ou   pcnseront  dc 

(Ingolst.,  1633).  pp.  125-131.  I  estre,  et  non  sur  autre."     Archive*  de  la 

"  "  Itaque  mane  de   lecto  surgeon,  Inter  Matron  d'Orange-Nassnu,  torn.  1.  p.  345. 


228  CHANGES  DEMANDED  BY  THE  LORDS. 

spicuous  in  the  troubles  of  the  country.  One  might  imagine  that  such  a 
document  was  more  likely  to  alarm  than  to  reassure  the  wife  to  whom  it  was 
addressed." 

In  the  beginning  of  January,  Egmont  set  out  on  his  journey.  He  was 
accompanied  for  some  distance  by  a  party  of  his  friends,  who  at  Cambray 
gave  him  a  splendid  entertainment.  Among  those  present  was  the  archbishop 
of  Cambray,  a  prelate  who  had  made  himself  unpopular  by  the  zeal  he  had 
shown  in  the  persecution  of  the  Reformers.  As  the  wine-cup  passed  freely 
round,  some  of  the  younger  guests  amused  themselves  with  frequently  pledg- 
ing the  prelate,  ana  endeavouring  to  draw  him  into  a  greater  degree  of  con- 
viviality than  was  altogether  becoming  his  station.  As  he  at  length  declined 
their  pledges,  they  began  openly  to  taunt  him ;  and  one  of  the  revellers, 
irritated  by  the  archbishop's  reply,  would  have  thrown  a  large  silver  dish  at 
his  head,  had  not  his  arm  been  arrested  by  Egmont.  Anotner  of  the  com- 
pany, however,  succeeded  in  knocking  off  the  prelate's  cap ; "  and  a  scene 
of  tumult  ensued,  from  which  the  archbishop  was  extricated,  not  without 
difficulty,  by  the  more  sober  and  considerate  part  of  the  company.  The 
whole  affair — mortifying  in  the  extreme  to  Egmont — is  characteristic  of  the 
country  at  this  period,  when  business  of  the  greatest  importance  was  settled 
at  the  banquet,  as  we  often  find  in  the  earlier  history  of  the  revolution. 

Egmont's  reception  at  Madrid  was  of  the  most  flattering  kind.  Philip's 
demeanour  towards  his  great  vassal  was  marked  by  unusual  benignity  ;  and 
the  courtiers,  readily  taking  their  cue  from  their  sovereign,  vied  with  one 
another  in  attentions  to  the  man  whose  prowess  might  be  said  to  have  won 
for  Spain  the  great  victories  of  Gravelines  and  St.  Quentin.  In  fine,  Egmont, 
whose  brilliant  exterior  and  noble  bearing  gave  additional  lustre  to  his  repu- 
tation, was  the  object  of  general  admiration  during  his  residence  of  several 
weeks  at  Madrid.  It  seemed  as  if  the  court  of  Castile  was  prepared  to  change 
its  policy,  from  the  flattering  attentions  it  thus  paid  to  the  representative 
of  the  Netherlands. 

During  his  stay,  Egmont  was  admitted  to  several  audiences,  in  which  he 
exposed  to  the  monarch  the  evils  that  beset  the  country,  and  the  measures 
proposed  for  relieving  them.  As  the  two  most  effectual,  he  pressed  him  to 
mitigate  the  edicts  and  to  reorganize  the  council  of  state.44  Thilip  listened 
with  much  benignity  to  these  suggestions  of  the  Flemish  noble ;  and  if  he  did 
not  acquiesce,  he  gave  no  intimation  to  the  contrary,  except  by  assuring  the 
count  of  his  determination  to  maintain  the  integrity  of  the  Catholic  faith. 
To  Egmont  personally  he  showed  the  greatest  indulgence,  and  the  count's 
private  suits  sped  as  favourably  as  he  could  have  expected.  But  a  remarkable 
anecdote  proves  that  Philip  at  this  very  time,  with  all  his  gracious  demeanour, 
had  not  receded  one  step  from  the  ground  he  had  always  occupied. 

Not  long  after  Egmont's  arrival,  Philip  privately  called  a  meeting  of  the 
most  eminent  theologians  in  the  capital.  To  this  conclave  he  communicated 

"  This  curious  document,   published  by  De  Tnitiis  Tumult.,  p.  190. 

Arnold!  (Hist.  Denkw.,   p.  282),  has  been  "  If  we  are  to  trust  Morillon's  report  to 

transferred  by  Groen  to  the  pages  of  his  c<il-  Granvelle,  Egmont  denied,  to  some  one  who 

lection.    See  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-  charged  him  with  it,  having  recommended  to 

Na~sa.ii,  ubi  supra.  Philip  to  soften  the  edicts.     (Archives  de  la 

43  "Ibi  turn    offensus    conviva,  arreptam  Maison  d'Orangf-Nassau.Supplement,  p.374.) 

argenteam  pelvim  (qua?  manibus  abluendis  But  Morillon  was  too  much  of  a  gossip  to  be 

niensam    fuerat    imposita)    injirere    Archi-  the  best  authority  ;  and,  as  this  was  under- 

episcopo  in  caput  conatur:    retinet  pelvim  stood  to  be  one  of  the  objects  of  the  count's 

Kpnondanus  :  quod  dum  facit,  en  alter  con-  mission,  it  will  be  but  justice  to  him  to  take 

viva  pugno  in  frontem  Archiepi«opo  eliso,  the  common  opinion  that  he  executed  it. 
pileum  de  capite  deturbat."    Vander  Haer, 


EGMONT  SENT  TO  SPAIN.  229 

briefly  the  state  of  the  Low  Countries  and  their  demand  to  enjoy  freedom  of 
conscience  in  matters  of  religion.  He  concluded  by  inquiring  the  opinion  of 
his  auditors  on  the  subject.  The  reverend  body,  doubtless  supposing  that 
the  king  only  wanted  their  sanction  to  extricate  himself  from  the  difficulties 
of  his  position,  made  answer,  "that,  considering  the  critical  situation  of 
Flanders,  and  the  imminent  danger,  if  thwarted,  of  its  disloyalty  to  the  crown 
and  total  defection  from  the  Church,  he  might  be  justified  in  allowing  the 
people  freedom  of  worshipping  in  their  own  way."  To  this  Philip  sternly 
replied,  "  He  had  not  called  them  to  learn  whether  he  might  grant  this  to  the 
Flemings,  hut  whether  he  must  do  so."  **  The  flexible  conclave,  finding  they 
had  mistaken  their  cue,  promptly  answered  in  the  negative  ;  on  which  Philip, 
prostrating  himself  on  the  ground  before  a  crucifix,  exclaimed,  "  I  implore 
thy  divine  majesty,  Ruler  of  all  things,  that  thou  keep  me  in  the  mind  that 
I  am  in,  never  to  allow  myself  either  to  become  or  to  be  called  the  lord  of  those 
who  reject  thee  for  their  Lord." 48  The  story  was  told  to  the  historian  who 
records  it  by  a  member  of  the  assembly,  filled  with  admiration  at  the  pious  zeal 
of  the  monarch  !  From  that  moment  the  doom  of  the  Netherlands  was  sealed. 

Yet  Eginont  had  so  little  knowledge  of  the  true  state  of  things,  that  he 
indulged  in  the  most  cheerful  prognostications  for  the  future.  His  frank  and 
cordial  nature  readily  responded  to  the  friendly  demonstrations  he  received, 
and  his  vanity  was  gratified  by  the  homage  universally  paid  to  him.  On 
leaving  the  country,  he  made  a  visit  to  the  royal  residences  of  Segovia  and  of 
the  Escorial,— the  magnificent  pile  already  begun  by  Philip,  and  which  con- 
tinued to  occupy  more  or  less  of  his  time  during  the  remainder  of  his  reign. 
Egmont,  in  a  letter  addressed  to  the  king,  declares  himself  highly  delighted 
with  what  he  has  seen  at  both  these  places,  and  assures  his  sovereign  that  he 
returns  to  Flanders  the  most  contented  man  in  the  world.47 

When  arrived  there,  early  in  April,  1565,  the  count  was  loud  in  his  profes- 
sion of  the  amiable  dispositions  of  the  Castilian  court  towards  the  Netherlands. 
Egmont's  countrymen — William  of  Orange  and  a  few  persons  of  cooler  judg- 
ment alone  excepted— readily  indulged  in  the  same  dream  of  sanguine  ex- 
pectation, flattering  themselves  with  the  belief  that  a  new  policy  was  to 
prevail  a£  Madrid,  and  that  their  country  was  henceforth  to  thrive  under  the 
blessings  of  religious  toleration.  It  was  a  pleasing  illusion,  destined  to  be  of 
no  long  duration. 

"  Negavit  accitos  a  se  Hlos  fuisse,   nt  mlhl  mentoru  perpetuam  veils,  ne  illorum, 

4BBHfe»t  nn  permittere  Id  posset,  sed  an  nib!  qui  te  Dominuro  re.-puerint,  uspiam  esse  me 

neceNHario     perniittendutu     prvscriberent."  aut  dtci  Doniinum  acquiescaiu.' "    Ibid.,  ubi 

Strada,  I)e  Bello  FMpico,  torn.  i.  p.  1S5.  supra. 

"Turn  Rex  in  eorum  conftpectu,  hutni  "  "Ilretourneen  Flandre,  I'liomiue  leplus 

positns    ante    Cliristl    iMnini    -imiil.uTinii,  satisfuit    du    mondc."      Currespuudauce    de 

•  Kgo  ver6,  inquit.  Divinam  Mjlegtatem  tuam  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1.  p.  319. 
oru,  quasuque,  Hex  omnium  JA-us,  Uanc  ut 


230  PHILIP'S  INFLEXIBILITY. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PHILIP'S  INFLEXIBILITY. 

Philip's  Duplicity — His  Procrastination — Despatches  from  Segovia— Effect  on  the  Country — 
The  Compromise— Orange  and  Kguioiit. 

1565,  1566. 

SHORTLY  after  Egmont's  return  to  Brussels,  Margaret  called  a  meeting  of  the 
council  of  state,  at  wlu'ch  the  sealed  instructions  brought  by  the  envoy  from 
Madrid  were  opened  and  read.  They  began  by  noticing  the  count's  demeanour 
in  terms  so  flattering  as  showed  the  mission  had  proved  acceptable  to  the  king. 
Then  followed  a  declaration,  strongly  expressed  and  sufficiently  startling. 
"  I  would  rather  lose  a  hundred  thousand  lives,  if  I  had  so  many,"  said  the 
monarch,  "  than  allow  a  single  change  in  matters  of  religion."  !  He,  however, 
recommended  that  a  commission  be  appointed,  consisting  of  three  bishops 
with  a  number  of  jurists,  who  should  advise  with  the  memoers  of  the  council 
as  to  the  best  mode  of  instructing  the  people,  especially  in  their  spiritual 
concerns.  It  might  be  well,  moreover,  to  substitute  some  secret  methods  for  the 
public  forms  of  execution,  which  now  enabled  the  heretic  to  assume  to  himself 
the  glory  of  martyrdom  and  thereby  produce  a  mischievous  impression  on  the 
people.2  No  other  allusion  was  made  to  the  pressing  grievances  of  the  nation, 
though,  in  a  letter  addressed  at  the  same  time  to  the  duchess,  Philip  said  that 
he  had  come  to  no  decision  as  to  the  council  of  state,  where  the  proposed 
change  seemed  likely  to  be  attended  with  inconvenience.* 

This,  then,  was  the  result  of  Egmont's  mission  to  Madrid  !  this  the  change 
so  much  vaunted  in  the  policy  of  Philip  !  "  The  count  has  been  the  dupe  of 
Spanish  cunning,"  exclaimed  the  prince  of  Orange.  It  was  too  true ;  and 
Egmont  felt  it  keenly,  as  he  perceived  the  ridicule  to  which  he  was  exposed  by 
the  confident  tone  in  which  lie  had  talked  of  the  amiable  dispositions  of  the 
Castilian  court,  and  by  the  credit  he  had  taken  to  himself  for  promoting 
them.4 

A  greater  sensation  was  produced  among  the  people  ;  for  their  expectations 
had  been  far  more  sanguine  than  those  entertained  by  William  and  the 
few  who,  like  him,  understood  the  character  of  Philip  too  well  to  place  great 
confidence  in  the  promises  of  Egmont  They  loudly  declaimed  against  the 
king's  insincerity,  and  accused  their  envoy  of  having  shown  more  concern  for 
his  private  interests  than  for  those  of  the  public.  This  taunt  touched  the 
honour  of  that  nobleman,  who  bitterly  complained  that  it  was  an  artifice  of 
Philip  to  destroy  his  credit  with  his  countrymen ;  and,  the  better  to  prove 
his  good  faith,  he  avowed  his  purpose  of  throwing  up  at  once  all  the  offices  he 
held  under  the  government* 

The  spirit  of  persecution,  after  a  temporary  lull,  now  again  awakened. 
But  everywhere  the  inquisitors  were  exposed  to  insult,  and  met  with  the  same 

1  "  En  ce  qnl  tourbe  la  religion,  11  declare  '  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1. 

qu'H  ne  peut  consentir  a  ce  qu'il  y  eoit  fait  p.  347. 

qnelque  changement ;   qu'il  aimerait  inieuz  *  Vandervynckt,   Troubles  des  Pays-Bas, 

perdre  cent  mille  vies,  s'il  les  avail."    Cor-  torn.  ii.  p.  92. 

respondance  dp  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1.  p.  347.  *  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1. 

'  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II ,  ubl  supra.  p.  361. 
— Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  187. 


PHILIP'S  DUPLICITY.  231 

resistance  as  before ;  while  their  victims  were  cheered  with  expressions  of 
sympathy  from  those  who  saw  them  led  to  execution.  To  avoid  the  contagion 
of  example,  the  executions  were  now  conducted  secretly  in  the  prisons.6  J3ut 
the  mystery  thus  thrown  around  the  fate  of  the  unhappy  sufferer  only  invested 
it  with  an  additional  horror.  Complaints  were  made  every  day  to  the  govern- 
ment by  the  states,  the  magistrates,  and  the  people,  denouncing  the  persecu- 
tions to  which  they  were  exposed.  Spies,  they  said,  were  in  every  house, 
watching  looks,  words,  gestures.  No  man  was  secure,  either  in  person  or 
property.  The  public  groaned  under  an  intolerable  slavery.'  Meanwhile  the 
Huguenot  emissaries  were  busy  as  ever  in  propagating  their  doctrines;  and 
with  the  work  of  reform  was  mingled  the  seed  of  revolution. 

The  regent  felt  the  danger  of  this  state  of  things,  and  her  impotence  to 
relieve  it.  She  did  all  she  could  in  freely  exposing  it  to  Philip,  informing  him 
at  the  same  time  of  Egmont's  disgust,  and  the  general  discontent  of  the  nation, 
at  the  instructions  from  Spain.  She  ended,  as  usual,  by  beseeching  her  brother 
to  come  himself,  if  he  would  preserve  his  authority  in  the  Netherlands.*  To 
these  communications  the  royal  answers  came  but  rarely,  and,  when  they  did 
come,  were  for  the  most  part  vague  and  unsatisfactory. 

"Everything  goes  on  with  Philip,"  writes  Cliantonnay,  formerly  minister  to 
France,  to  his  brother  Granvelle, — "everything  goes  011  from  to-morrow  to 
to-morrow ;  the  only  resolution  is,  to  remain  irresolute.'  The  king  will  allow 
matters  to  become  so  entangled  in  the  Low  Countries  that,  if  he  ever  should 
visit  them,  he  will  find  it  easier  to  conform  to  the  state  of  things  than  to  mend 
it.  The  lords  there  are  more  of  kings  than  the  king  himself."  They  have  all 
the  smaller  nobles  in  leading-strings.  It  is  impossible  that  Phihu  should 
conduct  himself  like  a  man.11  His  only  object  is  to  cajole  the  Flemish  nobles, 
so  that  he  may  be  spared  the  necessity  of  coming  to  Flanders." 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  writes  the  secretary  Perez,  that  the  king  will  manage 
affairs  as  he  does,  now  taking  counsel  of  this  man,  and  now  of  that ;  conceal- 
ing some  matters  from  those  he  consults,  and  trusting  them  with  others, — : 
showing  full  confidence  in  no  one.  With  this  way  of  proceeding,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  despatches  should  be  contradictory  in  their  tenor." l* 

It  is  doubtless  true  that  procrastination  and  distrust  were  the  besetting  sins 
of  Philip^  and  were  followed  by  their  natural  consequences.  lie  had,  more- 
over, as  we  have  seen,  a  sluggishness  of  nature,  which  kept  him  in  Aladrid 
when  he  should  have  been  in  Brussels, —where  his  father,  in  similar  circuni- 
st:ui' »-,.  would  long  since  liave  been,  seeing  with  his  own  eyes  what  Philip  saw 
only  with  the  eyes  of  others.  But  still  his  policy  in  the  present  instance  may 
be  referred  quite  as  much  to  deliberate  calculation  as  to  his  natural  temper. 
He  had  early  settled  it  as  a  fixed  principle  never  to  concede  religious  tolera- 
tion to  his  subjects.  He  had  intimated  this  pretty  clearly  in  his  diiterent 

•  "  And  everywhere  great  endeavour*  were  •  Correspondance  de  Philippe  11.,  torn.  i. 

tued  to  deliver  the  InipriHoin-d.  ax  ROOII  a*  it  p.  361,  ct  alibi. 

was  known  bow  tbey  were  privately  made  '  "Tout   vat  de  domain   a  deniain,    et   la 

•wny  in  the  pri?-on» :  for  tho  inquisitor*  not  principal'-  re«olutlon  en  telles  CI.OSPH  est  d<? 

daring  any  longer  to  carry  them  to  •  public  demeurer    perpetual  lenient   irresolu."      Ai- 

exeruiiou,  thl*  new  metbod  of  despatching  chives  de  la  MaUou  d'Orangc-N assail,  torn.  I. 

them,  wliicb  the  king  biuselr  had  ordervd,  p.  426. 

wan  now  put  In  practice,  and  it  was  com-  '"  "  11   y  en  a  qui  Hont  plus  Roys  que  le 

monly  performed  thus:  They  bound  the  con-  Roy."     Iliid.,  ubi  supra, 

demnnd  penton  neck  and  beela,  then  threw  "  "  Le  Koi  uura  Men  dc  la  pelne  a  se  nion- 

blin  Into  a  tub  of  water,  where  be  lay  till  lie  trer  boiniuc."     Ibid.,  ubi  Hupru. 

was  quite  suflocated."     Brandt,  Keloruiatiou  "  CorrespoiuLtucc  do  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I. 

in  the  Ixjw  Countries,  vol.  I.  p.  166.  p.  358. 

'  Ibid.,  torn.  I.  p.  101. 


232  PHILIPS  INFLEXIBILITY. 

communications  to  the  government  of  Flanders.  That  he  did  not  announce 
it  in  a  more  absolute  and  unequivocal  form  may  well  have  arisen  from  the 
apprehension  that  in  the  present  irritable  state  of  the  people  this  might  rouse 
their  passions  into  a  flame.  At  least,  it  might  be  reserved  for  a  last  resort. 
Meanwhile,  he  hoped  to  weary  them  out  by  maintaining  an  attitude  of  cold 
reserve,  until,  convinced  of  the  hopelessness  of  resistance,  they  would  cease 
altogether  to  resist.  In  short,  he  seemed  to  deal  with  the  Netherlands  like  a 
patient  angler,  who  allows  the  trout  to  exhaust  himself  by  his  own  efforts, 
rather  than  by  a  violent  movement  risk  the  loss  of  him  altogether.  It  is  clear 
Philip  did  not  understand  the  character  of  the  Netherlander, — as  dogged  and 
determined  as  his  own. 

Considering  the  natural  bent  of  the  king's  disposition,  there  seems  no  reason 
to  charge  Granvelle,  as  was  commonly  done  in  the  Low  Countries,  with  having 
given  a  direction  to  his  policy.  It  is,  however,  certain  that  on  all  great  ques- 
tions the  minister's  judgment  seems  to  have  perfectly  coincided  with  that  of 
his  master.  "  If  your  majesty  mitigates  the  edicts,"  writes  the  cardinal, 
"affairs  will  become  worse  in  Flanders  than  they  are  in  France."11  No 
change  should  be  allowed  in  the  council  of  state.14  A  meeting  of  the  states- 
general  would  inflict  an  injury  which  the  king  would  feel  for  thirty  years 
to  come.14  Granvelle  maintained  a  busy  correspondence  with  his  partisans  in 
the  Low  Countries,  and  sent  the  results  of  it — frequently  the  original  letters 
themselves— to  Madrid.  Thus  Philip,  by  means  of  the  reports  of  the  great 
nobles  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  the  Cardinalists  on  the  other,  was  enabled  to 
observe  the  movements  in  Flanders  from  the  most  opposite  points  of  view. 

The  king's  replies  to  the  letters  of  the  minister  were  somewhat  scanty,  to 
judge  from  the  complaints  which  Granvelle  made  of  his  neglect.  With  all 
this,  the  cardinal  professes  to  be  well  pleased  that  he  is  rid  of  so  burdensome 
an  office  as  that  of  governing  the  Netherlands.  "  Here,"  he  writes  to  his 
friend  Viglius,  "  I  make  good  cheer,  busying  myself  with  my  own  affairs,  and 
preparing  my  despatches  in  quiet,  seldom  leaving  the  house,  except  to  take  a 
walk,  to  attend  church,  or  to  visit  my  mother."  l6  In  this  simple  way  of  life  the 
philosophic  statesman  seems  to  have  passed  his  time  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
though  it  is  evident,  notwithstanding  his  professions,  that  he  cast  many 
a  longing  look  back  to  the  Netherlands,  the  seat  of  his  brief  authority.  "  The 
hatred  the  people  of  Flanders  bear  me,"  he  writes  to  Philip,  "afflicts  me 
sorely  ;.  but  I  console  myself  that  it  is  for  the  service  of  God  and  my  king."  1T 
The  cardinal,  amid  his  complaints  of  the  king's  neglect,  affected  the  most  entire 
submission  to  his  will.  "  I  would  go  anywhere,"  he  writes, — "  to  the  Indies, 
anywhere  in  the  world, — would  even  throw  myself  into  the  fire,  did  you  desire 
it." 18  Philip,  not  long  after,  put  these  professions  to  the  test.  In  October, 
1565,  he  yielded  to  the  regent's  importunities,  and  commanded  Granvelle  to 
transfer  his  residence  to  Rome.  The  cardinal  would  not  move.  "  Anywhere," 
he  wrote  to  his  master,  "  but  to  Rome.  That  is  a  place  of  ceremonies  and 
empty  show,  for  which  1  am  nowise  qualified.  Besides,  it  would  look  too  much 


"  "II  lui  sufflt,  pour  se  contenter  d'etre  ou 


DESPATCHES  FROM  SEGOVIA.  233 

like  a  submission  on  your  part.  My  diocese  of  Mechlin  has  need  of  me ;  now, 
if  I  should  go  to  Spain,  it  would  look  as  if  I  went  to  procure  the  aid  which  it 
so  much  requires."  I9  But  the  cabinet  of  Madrid  were  far  from  desiring  the 
presence  of  so  cunning  a  statesman  to  direct  the  royal  counsels.  The  orders 
were  reiterated  to  go  to  Rome.  To  Rome,  accordingly,  the  reluctant  minis- 
ter went ;  and  we  have  a  letter  from  him  to  the  king,  dated  from  that  capital, 
the  first  of  February,  1566,  in  which  he  counsels  his  master  by  no  means  to 
think  of  introducing  the  Spanish  Inquisition  into  the  Netherlands.20  It 
might  seem  as  if,  contrary  to  the  proverb,  change  of  climate  had  wrought  some 
change  in  the  disposition  of  the  cardinal.  From  this  period,  Granvelle,  so 
long  the  terror  of  the  Low  Countries,  disappears  from  the  management  of  their 
affairs.  He  does  not,  however,  disappear  from  the  political  theatre.  We  shall 
again  meet  with  the  able  and  ambitious  prelate,  first  as  viceroy  of  Naples,  and 
afterwards  at  Madrid  occupying  the  highest  station  in  the  councils  of  his 
sovereign. 

Early  in  July,  1565,  the  commission  of  reform  appointed  by  Philip  trans- 
mitted its  report  to  Spain.  It  recommended  no  change  in  the  present  laws, 
except  so  far  as  to  authorize  the  judges  to  take  into  consideration  the  age  ana 
sex  of  the  accused,  and  in  case  of  penitence  to  commute  the  capital  punish- 
ment of  the  convicted  heretic  for  banishment  Philip  approved  of  the  report 
in  all  particulars, — except  the  only  particular  that  involved  a  change,  that  of 
mercy  to  the  penitent  heretic.11 

At  length  the  king  resolved  on  such  an  absolute  declaration  of  his  will  as 
should  put  all  doubts  on  the  matter  at  rest  and  relieve  him  from  further  im- 
portunity. On  the  seventeenth  of  October,  1565,  he  addressed  that  memo- 
rable letter  to  his  sister  from  the  Wood  of  Segovia,  which  may  be  said  to  have 
determined  the  fate  of  the  Netherlands.  Phflip,  in  this,  intimates  his  surprise 
that  his  letters  should  appear  to  Egmont  inconsistent  with  what  he  had  heard 
from  his  lips  at  Madrid.  His  desire  was  not  for  novelty  in  anything.  He 
would  have  the  Inquisition  conducted  by  the  inquisitors,  as  it  had  hitherto 
been,  and  as  by  right,  divine  and  human,  belonged  to  them."  For  the  edicts, 
it  was  no  time  in  the  present  state  of  religion  to  make  any  change ;  both  his 
own  and  those  of  his  father  must  be  executed.  The  Anabaptists — a  sect  for 
which,  as  the  especial  butt  of  persecution,  much  intercession  had  been  made — 
must  be  dealt  with  according  to  the  rigour  of  the  law.  Philip  concluded  by 
conjuring  the  regent  and  the  lords  in  the  council  faithfully  to  obey  his 
commands,  as  in  so  doing  they  would  render  the  greatest  service  to  the 
cause  of  religion  and  of  their  country, — which  last,  he  adds,  without  the 
execution  of  these  ordinances,  would  be  of  little  worth.*1 

In  a  private  letter  to  the  regent  of  nearly  the  same  date  with  these  public 
despatches,  Philip  speaks  of  the  proposed  changes  in  the  council  of  state  as  a 
subject  on  which  he  had  not  made  up  his  mind."  He  notices  also  the  pro- 
posed convocation  of  the  states-general  as  a  thing,  in  the  present  disorders  of 

"  Correspondence  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  "  Ib'd.,  ubi  nupra. 

p.  3*0.  "  This  letter  wag  dated  the  twentieth  of 

'"  Ibid.,  p.  396.  October.  All  hesitation  seems  to  have  vanished 

"  Ibid.,  p.  372. — Hopper,  Recueil  et  Me-  In  a  letter  addrewed  to  Qranvelle  only  two 

mortal,  p.  57.  day*  aft-r,  In  which  Philip  cays,  "  As  to  the 

"  "Car,  quant  a  I'lnqulsltlon.  roon  inten-  proponed  changes  In  the  government,  there  in 

tlon  eat  qu'clle  Re  fao>  par  les  Inquimteurx,  not  a  question  about  th>-m."    "Quant  anx 

cominVllo  a'cftt  (aide  jusques  a  maintenant,  changements  qu'on  lui  a  ecrit  devoir  se  faire 

et  coinm'il  leur  apportion!  pur  droitz  dlvinj  "l.m-  le  frouvernement,  II  n'en  eat  pas  qne*- 

tttraautrH."    Correspond  mcede  Philippe  II.,  tlon."    Correspondancc  de  Phlllppo  II.,  torn, 

torn  I.,  "  lUpp.>rt,"  p  cxxix.  note.  1.  p.  375. 


234  PHILIP'S  INFLEXIBILITY. 

the  country,  altogether  inexpedient."  Thus  the  king's  despatches  covered 
nearly  all  the  debatable  ground  on  which  the  contest  had  been  so  long  going 
on  between  the  crown  and  the  country.  There  could  be  no  longer  any  com- 
plaint of  ambiguity  or  reserve  in  the  expression  of  the  royal  will.  "God 
knows,"  writes  Viglius,  "  what  wry  faces  were  made  in  the  council  on  learning 
the  absolute  will  of  his  majesty  !  26  There  was  not  one  of  its  members,  not 
even  the  president  or  Barlaimont,  who  did  not  feel  the  necessity  of  bending 
to  the  tempest  so  far  as  to  suspend,  if  not  to  mitigate,  the  rigour  of  the  law. 
They  looked  to  the  future  with  gloomy  apprehension.  Viglius  strongly 
urged  that  the  despatches  should  not  be  made  public  till  some  further  com- 
munication should  DC  had  with  Philip  to  warn  him  of  the  consequences.  In 
this  he  was  opposed  by  the  prince  of  Orange.  "  It  was  too  late,"  ne  said,  "  to 
talk  of  what  was  expedient  to  be  done.  Since  the  will  of  his  majesty  was  so 
unequivocally  expressed,  all  that  remained  for  the  government  was  to  execute 
it." 27  In  vain  did  Viglius  offer  to  take  the  whole  responsibility  of  the  delay 
on  himself.  William's  opinion,  supported  by  Egmont  and  Hoorne,  prevailed 
with  the  regent,  too  timid,  by  sucn  an  act  of  disobedience,  to  hazard  the  dis- 
pleasure of  ner  brother.  As,  late  in  the  evening,  the  council  broke  up,  William 
was  heard  to  exclaim,  "  Now  we  shall  see  the  beginning  of  a  fine  tragedy  ! " 28 

In  the  month  of  December,  the  regent  caused  copies  of  the  despatches,  with 
extracts  from  the  letters  to  herself,  to  be  sent  to  the  governors  and  the 
councils  of  the  several  provinces,  with  orders  that  they  should  see  to  their 
faithful  execution.  Officers,  moreover,  were  to  be  appointed,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  ascertain  the  manner  in  which  these  orders  were  fulfilled,  and  to  report 
thereori  to  the  government. 

The  result  was  what  had  been  foreseen.  The  publication  of  the  despatches 
— to  borrow  the  words  of  a  Flemish  writer— created  a  sensation  throughout 
the  country  little  short  of  what  would  have  been  caused  by  a  declaration  of 
war.29  Under  every  discouragement,  men  had  flattered  themselves,  up  to  this 
period,  with  the  expectation  of  some  change  for  the  better.  The  constantly 
increasing  number  of  the  Reformers,  the  persevering  resistance  to  the  Inqui- 
sition, the  reiterated  remonstrances  to  the  government,  the  general  persuasion 
that  the  great  nobles,  even  the  regent,  were  on  their  side,  had  all  combined  to 
foster  the  hope  that  toleration,  to  some  extent,  would  eventually  be  conceded 
by  Philip.30  This  hope  was  now  crushed.  Whatever  doubts  had  been  enter- 
tained were  dispelled  by  these  last  despatches,  which  came  like  a  hurricane, 
sweeping  away  the  mists  that  had  so  long  blinded  the  eyes  of  men,  and  laying 
open  the  policy  of  the  crown,  clear  as  day,  to  the  dullest  apprehension.  The 
people  passed  to  the  extremity  of  despair.  The  Spanish  Inquisition,  with  its 

35  Documentoa  ineditos,  torn.  Iv.  p.  333.  de  la  libertad  de  conciencia,  de  las  mudanzas 

"  "  Dieu  89ait  que  visaiges  ils  ont  monstrez,  del  gobierno."     Renom  de  Francia,  Alborotos 

et  que  mesconten  i  ement  ils  ont,  voyans  1'alv  de  Flandes,  MS.  —  "Some  demand  a  mitigation 

solute  volunte  du   Roy."      Archives   de   la  of  the  edicts;  others,"  as  Viglius  peevishly 

Maison  d'Orange-Nassau.  torn.  i.  p.  442.  complains  to  Granvelle,  "  say  that  they  want 

"'  Hopper,  Kecueil  et  Memorial,  p.  59.  at  least  us  much  toleration  as  is  vouchsafed  to 

""Qua     conclusions     accepta,    Princeps  Christians  by  the  Turks,  who  do  not  persecute 

Auriacencis  cuidam  in  aurem  dixit  (qui  post  the  enemies  of  their  faith  as  we  persecute 

id    retulit)    quasi     laetus    gloriabundusque :  brethren  of  our  own  faith  for  a  mere  difference 

visuros  nos  brevi  egregiae  tragedian  initium."  In  the  interpretation  of   Scripture!"    (Ar- 

Vita  Viglii,  p.  45.  chives  de  la  Maison  d 'Orange- Nassau,  torn.  i. 

2*  "  Une  declaration  de  guerre  n'aurait  pas  p.  287.)    Viglius  was  doubtless  of  the  opinion 

fait  plus  d'impression  sur  les  esprits,  que  ces  of  M.  Gerlache,  that  for  Philip  to  have  granted 

depcches,  quand  la  connaissance  en  parviut  toleration  would  have  proved  the  signal  for  a 

au  public."     Vandervynckt,    Troubles    des  genoral  massacre.    Vide  Hist,  du  Royaume 

Pays-lias,  torn.  ii.  p.  94.  des  Pays-Bos,  torn.  i.  p.  83. 

30  "  Se  comienza  a  dar  esperanza  al  pueblo 


EFFECT  ON  THE  COUNTRY.  235 

train  of  horrors,  seemed  to  be  already  in  the  midst  of  them.  They  called  to 
mind  all  the  tales  of  woe  they  had  heard  of  it.  They  recounted  tlie  atrocities 
perpetrated  by  the  Spaniards  in  the  New  World,  which,  however  erroneously, 
they  charged  on  the  Holy  Office.  "Do  they  ex[>ect,"  they  cried,  "  that  we 
shall  tamely  wait  here,  like  the  wretched  Indians,  to  be  slaughtered  by 
millions."  "  Men  were  seen  gathering  into  knots,  in  the  streets  and  public 
squares,  discussing  the  conduct  of  the  government,  and  gloomily  talking  of 
secret  associations  and  foreign  alliances.  Meetings  were  stealtliily  held  in  the 
woods,  and  in  the  suburbs  of  the  great  towns,  where  the  audience  listened  to 
fanatical  preachers,  who,  while  discussing  th«  doctrines  of  religious  reform, 
darkly  hinted  at  resistance.  Tracts  were  printed,  and  widely  circulated,  in 
which  the  reciprocal  obligations  of  lord  and  vassal  were  treated,  and  the  right 
of  resistance  was  maintained  ;  and  in  some  instances  these  difficult  questions 
were  handled  with  decided  ability.  A  more  common  form  was  that  of  satire 
and  scurrilous  lampoon,— a  favourite  weapon  with  the  early  Reformers.  Their 
satirical  sallies  were  levelled  indifferently  at  the  throne  and  the  Church.  The 
bishops  were  an  obvious  mark.  No  one  was  spared.  Comedies  were  written 
to  ridicule  the  clergy.  Never  since  the  discovery  of  the  art  of  printing — more 
than  a  century  before — had  the  press  been  turned  into  an  engine  of  such 
political  importance  as  in  the  earlier  stages  of  the  revolution  in  the  Nether- 
lands. Thousands  of  the  seditious  pamphlets  thus  thrown  off  were  rapidly 
circulated  among  a  people  the  humblest  of  whom  possessed  what  many  a  noble 
in  other  lands,  at  that  day,  was  little  skilled  in, — the  art  of  reading.  Placards 
were  nailed  to  the  doors  of  the  magistrates,  in  some  of  the  cities,  proclaiming 
that  Rome  stood  in  need  of  her  Brutus.  Others  were  attached  to  the  gates  of 
Orange  and  Egrnont,  calling  on  them  to  come  forth  and  save  their  country." 

Margaret  was  filled  with  alarm  at  these  signs  of  disaffection  throughout  the 
land.  >She  felt  the  ground  trembling  beneath  her.  She  wrote  again  and  again 
to  Philip,  giving  full  particulars  of  the  state  of  the  public  sentiment,  and  the 
seditious  spirit  which  seemed  on  the  verge  of  insurrection.  She  intimated  her 
wish  to  resign  the  government.'*  She  besought  him  to  allow  the  states- 
general  to  be  summoned,  and,  at  all  events,  to  come  in  person  and  take  the 
reins  from  her  hands,  too  weak  to  hold  them.  Philip  coolly  replied  that  he 
was  sorry  the  despatches  from  Segovia  had  given  such  offence.  They  had  been 
designed  only  for  the  service  of  God  and  the  good  of  the  country."  *4 

In  this  general  fermentation,  a  new  class  of  men  came  on  the  stage,  im- 
portant by  their  numbers,  though  they  had  taken  no  part  as  yet  in  political 
affairs.  These  were  the  lower  nobility  of  the  country,  men  of  honourable 
descent,  and  many  of  them  allied  by  blood  or  marriage  with  the  highest  nobles 
of  the  land.  They  were  too  often  men  of  dilapidated  fortunes,  fallen  into 
decay  through  their  own  prodigality  or  that  of  their  progenitors.  Many  had 
received  their  education  abroad,  some  in  Geneva,  the  home  of  Calvin,  where 
they  naturally  imbibed  the  doctrines  of  the  great  Reformer.  In  needy  circiim- 
stances,  with  no  better  possession  than  the  inheritance  of  honourable  traditions 
or  the  memory  of  better  days,  they  were  urged  by  a  craving,  impatient  spirit, 

11  "On  defiait  les  EspagnoN  de  trouver  aux  M  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I. 

Pays-Has    ces    stupides    Aniericains    et   ce*  p.  390. 

miserable*  hubitans  du   IVrou,   qu'on   avail  "  "  II  a  apprls  avec  peine  que  le  content! 

{gorges  par  millions,  quand  on  avail  vu  qu'ils  de  B.I  lellre.  dalle  du  fx>U  de  Segovle,  a  HO 

DP  satait-nl  pa>  se defendre."    Vandrrvynckt,  inal  accneilll  aux  Pays-Baa,  sos  Intentions  no 

Troubles  des  Pay.— Has.  torn.  t.  p.  97.  Icndanl  qu'au  service  de  Dion  el  au  bien  de 

"  See  a  letter  of  Morillun  to  Uranvelle,  ces  filaU,  comme  1'amour  qu'il  leur  porte  1'y 

January   -'Ttli,   15f.fi.   Archives  de  la   Maison  oblige."     Ibid.,  p.  400 
d'Oruiigo-Nassau,  Supplement,  p.  23. 


236  PHILIP'S  INFLEXIBILITY. 

which  naturally  made  them  prefer  any  change  to  the  existing  order  of  things. 
They  were,  for  the  most  part,  bred  to  arms,  and  in  the  days  of  Charles  the 
Fifth  had  found  an  ample  career  opened  to  their  ambition  under  the  imperial 
banners.  But  Philip,  with  less  policy  than  his  father,  had  neglected  to  court 
this  class  of  his  subjects,  who,  without  fixed  principles  or  settled  motives  of 
action,  seemed  to  float  on  the  surface  of  events,  prepared  to  throw  their 
weight,  at  any  moment,  into  the  scale  of  revolution. 

Some  twenty  of  these  cavaliers,  for  the  most  part  young  men,  met  together 
in  the  month  of  November,  in  Brussels,  at  the  house  of  Count  Culemborg,*  a 
nobleman  attached  to  the  Protestant  opinions.  Their  avowed  purpose  was  to 
listen  to  the  teachings  of  a  Flemish  divine,  named  Junius,  a  man  of  parts  and 
learning,  who  had  been  educated  in  the  school  of  Calvin,  and  who,  having 
returned  to  the  Netherlands,  exercised,  under  the  very  eye  of  the  regent,  the 
dangerous  calling  of  the  missionary.  At  this  meeting  of  the  discontented 
nobles  the  talk  naturally  turned  on  the  evils  of  the  land  and  the  best  means  of 
remedying  them.  The  result  of  the  conferences  was  the  formation  of  a  league, 
the  principal  objects  of  which  are  elaborately  set  forth  in  a  paper  known  as 
the  "  Compromise."  " 

This  celebrated  document  declares  that  the  king  had  been  induced  by  evil 
counsellors, — for  the  most  part  foreigners, — in  violation  of  his  oath,  to  estab- 
lish the  Inquisition  in  the  country  ;  a  tribunal  opposed  to  all  law,  divine  and 
human,  surpassing  in- barbarity  anything  ever  yet  practised  by  tyrants,38 
tending  to  bring  the  land  to  utter  ruin,"  and  the  inhabitants  to  a  state  of 
miserable  bondage.  The  confederates,  therefore,  in  order  not  to  become  the 
prey  of  those  who,  under  the  name  of  religion,  seek  only  to  enrich  themselves 
at  the  expense  of  life  and  property,37  bind  themselves  by  a  solemn  oath  to 
resist  the  establishment  of  the  Inquisition,  under  whatever  form  it  may  be 
introduced,  and  to  protect  each  other  against  it  with  their  lives  and  fortunes. 
In  doing  this,  they  protest  that,  so  far  from  intending  anything  to  the  dis- 
honour of  the  king,  their  only  intent  is  to  maintain  the  king  in  his  estate,  and 
to  preserve  the  tranquillity  of  the  realm.  They  conclude  with  solemnly 
invoking  the  blessing  of  the  Almighty  on  this  their  lawful  and  holy  con- 
federation. 

Such  are  some  of  the  principal  points  urged  in  this  remarkable  instrument, 
in  which  little  mention  is  made  of  the  edicts,  every  other  grievance  being 
swallowed  up  in  that  of  the  detested  Inquisition.  Indeed,  the  translations  of 
the  "  Compromise,"  which  soon  appeared,  in  various  languages,  usually  bore 

**  Historians  have  usually  referred  the  origin  bane  que  oncques  fut  prsctiquee  entre  lea 

of  the  "  Union  "to  a  meeting  of  nine  nobles  at  tirans."    Archives  de   la  Maison    d'Orange- 

Hreda,  as  reported  by  Strada.     (De  Bello  Bel-  Nassau,  torn.  ii.  p.  3.— One  niipht  imagine 

gico,  torn.  1.  p.  208.)    But  we  have  the  testi-  that  the  confederates  intended  in  the  first  part 

mony  of  Junius  himself  to  the  fact,  as  stated  of  this  sentence  to  throw  the  words  of  Philip 

In  the  text;  and  this  testimony  is  accepted  by  back  upon  himself, — "comme  il  leur  apperti- 

Groen,  who  treads  with  a  caution  that  secures  ent  par  droitz  diving  et  humains."     Depeche 

him  a  good  footing  even  in  the  slippery  places  du  Bois  de  Segovie,  October  17th.  1565. 

of    history.     (See  Archives    de    la    Maison  *'  "Affln   de  n'estre  exposez  en  prove  4 

d'Orange- Nassau,  torn.  ii.  p.  2.)    Brandt  also  ceulx  qui,  soubs  ombre  de  religion,  voudroient 

adopts  the  report  of  Junius     (Reformation  s'enrichir  aux  despens  de  nostre  sang  et  de 

In  the  Low  Countries,  torn.  i.  p  162.)  nos  biens."    Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Oraoge- 

•"  "  Inique  et  contraire  a  toutes  loix  divines  Nassau,  torn.  ii.  p.  4. 
et  humaines,  surpassant  la  plus  grande  bar- 


*  [The  proper  orthography  of  this  name  is  this  period,  it  has  become  familiar  to  English 
fuilenbtirg ;  but,  like  some  other  Dutch  and  readers  in  the  form  used  by  French  authori- 
Flemish  names  connected  with  the  history  of  ties. — Er>.] 


THE  COMPROMISE.  237 

the  title  of  "  League  of  the  Nobles  of  Flanders  against  the  Spanish  Inqui- 
sition."" 

It  will  hardly  be  denied  that  those  who  signed  this  instrument  had  already 
made  a  decided  move  in  the  game  of  rebellion.  They  openly  arrayed  them- 
selves against  the  execution  of  the  law  and  the  authority  of  the  crown.  They 
charged  the  king  with  having  violated  his  oath,  and  they  accused  him  of 
abetting  a  persecution  which,  under  the  pretext  of  religion,  had  no  other  object 
than  the  spoil  of  its  victims.  It  was  of  little  moment  that  all  this  was  done 
under  professions  of  loyalty.  Such  professions  are  the  decent  cover  with  which 
the  first  approaches  are  always  made  in  a  revolution.  The  copies  of  the 
instrument  differ  somewhat  from  each  other.  One  of  these,  before  me,  as  if 
to  give  the  edge  of  personal  insult  to  their  remonstrance,  classes  in  the  same 
category  "  the  vagabond,  the  priest,  and  the  Spaniard."  M 

Among  the  small  company  who  first  subscribed  the  document  we  find  names 
that  rose  to  eminence  in  the  stormy  scenes  of  the  revolution.  There  was  Count 
Louis  of  Nassau,  a  younger  brother  of  the  prince  of  Orange,  the  "  bon  cheva- 
lier" as  William  used  to  call  him, — a  title  well  earned  by  his  generous  spirit 
and  many  noble  and  humane  qualities.  Louis  was  bred  a  Lutheran,  and  was 
zealously  devoted  to  the  cause  of  reform  when  his  brother  took  but  a  com- 
paratively languid  interest  in  it.  His  ardent,  precipitate  temper  was  often 
kept  in  check,  and  more  wisely  directed,  by  the  prudent  counsels  of  William  ; 
while  he  amply  repaid  his  brother  by  his  devoted  attachment,  and  by  the  zeal 
and  intrepidity  with  wliich  he  carried  out  his  plans.  Louis,  indeed,  might  be 
called  the  right  hand  of  William. 

Another  of  the  party  was  Philip  de  Marnix,  lord  of  St.  Aldegonde.  He  was 
the  intimate  friend  of  William  of  Orange.  In  the  words  of  a  Belgian  writer, 
he  was  one  of  the  beautiful  characters  of  the  time ; 40  distinguished  alike  as 
a  soldier,  a  statesman,  and  a  scholar.  It  is  to  his  pen  that  the  composition 
of  the  "  Compromise  "  has  generally  been  assigned.  Some  critics  have  found 
its  tone  inconsistent  with  the  sedate  and  tranquil  character  of  his  mind.  Yet 
St.  Aldegonde's  device,  "  Repos  ailleurs"*1  would  seem  to  indicate  a  fervid 
imagination  and  an  impatient  spirit  of  activity. 

But  the  man  who  seems  to  have  entered  most  heartily  into  these  first  move- 
ments of  the  revolution  was  Henry,  viscount  of  Brederode.  He  sprang  from 
an  ancient  line,  boasting  his  descent  from  the  counts  of  Holland.  The  only 
possession  that  remained  to  him,  the  lordship  of  Viana,  he  still  claimed  to 
hold  as  independent  of  the  king  of  Spain  or  any  other  potentate.  His  patri- 
mony had  been  wasted  in  a  course  of  careless  indulgence,  and  little  else  was 
left  than  barren  titles  and  pretensions, — which,  it  must  be  owned,  he  was  not 
diffident  in  vaunting.  He  was  fond  of  convivial  pleasures,  and  had  a  free, 
reckless  humour,  tliat  took  with  the  people,  to  whom  he  was  still  more 
endeared  by  his  sturdy  hatred  of  oppression.  Brederode  was,  in  short,  one 
of  those  busy,  vapouring  characters  who  make  themselves  felt  at  the  outset  of 
a  revolution,  but  are  soon  lost  in  the  course  of  it ;  like  those  ominous  birds 
which  with  their  cries  and  screams  herald  in  the  tempest  that  soon  sweeps 
them  out  of  sight  for  ever. 

Copies  of  the  "  Compromise,"  with  the  names  attached  to  it,  were  soon 

'•  Vandervynckt,  Troubles  des  PayB-Bas,  bender,  volre  falre  mourir,  nolt  i  droit.  Bolt  i 

torn.  II.  p.  134.  tort."    Supplement  a  Strait*,  torn.  il.  p.  300. 

*•  "  De  sorte  que  nl  un  Prestre,  nn  Espa-  4°  "  L'un  des  beaux  caractcreade  ce  temps." 

gnol,  en   quelque  mauvala  Karm-ment    vcut  Borguet,  Philippe  II.  et  1*  Uelgique,  p.  43. 

mat,  ou  nuyre  a  autruy,  par  Ic  moyen  de  •'  Ibid.,  ubl  supra. 
1' Inquisition,  11  ponrra  1'accuwr,  falre  appre- 


238  PHILIP'S  INFLEXIBILITY. 

distributed  through  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  eagerly  signed  by  great 
numbers,  not  merely  of  the  petty  nobility  and  gentry,  but  of  substantial 
burghers  and  wealthy  merchants,  men  who  had  large  interests  at  stake  in  the 
community.  Hames,  king-at-arms  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  who  was  a  zealous 
confederate,  boasted  that  the  names  of  two  thousand  such  persons  were  on 
his  paper."  Among  them  were  many  Roman  Catholics  ;  and  we  are  again 
called  to  notice  that  in  the  outset  this  Protestant  revolution  received  impor- 
tant support  from  the  Catholics  themselves,  who  forgot  all  religious  differences 
in  a  common  hatred  of  arbitrary  power. 

Few,  if  any,  of  the  great  nobles  seem  to  have  been  among  the  number  of 
those  who  signed  the  "  Compromise," — certainly  none  of  the  council  of  state. 
It  would  hardly  have  done  to  invite  one  of  the  royal  councillors — in  other 
words,  one  of  the  government — to  join  the  confederacy,  when  they  would  have 
been  bound  by  the  obligations  of  their  office  to  disclose  it  to  the  regent.  But 
if  the  great  lords  did  not  become  actual  parties  to  the  league,  they  showed 
their  sympathy  with  the  object  of  it,  by  declining  to  enforce  the  execution  of 
the  laws  against  which  it  was  directed.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  January, 
1566,  the  prince  of  Orange  addressed,  from  Breda,  a  letter  to  the  regent,  on 
the  occasion  of  her  sending  him  the  despatches  from  Segovia  for  the  rule  of 
his  government  in  the  provinces.  In  this  remarkable  letter,  William  exposes, 
with  greater  freedom  than  he  was  wont,  his  reasons  for  refusing  to  comply 
with  the  royal  orders.  "  I  express  myself  freely  and  frankly,"  he  says,  "  on  a 
topic  on  which  I  have  not  been  consulted  ;  but  I  do  so  lest  by  my  silence  1 
may  incur  the  responsibility  of  the  mischief  that  must  ensue."  He  then 
briefly,  and  in  a  decided  tone,  touches  on  the  evils  of  the  Inquisition, — intro- 
duced, as  he  says,  contrary  to  the  repeated  pledges  of  the  king, — and  on  the 
edicts.  Great  indulgence  had  been  of  late  shown  in  the  interpretation  of  these 
latter ;  and  to  revive  them  on  a  sudden,  so  as  to  execute  them  with  their 
ancient  rigour,  would  be  most  disastrous.  There  could  not  be  a  worse  time 
than  the  present,  when  the  people  were  sorely  pressed  by  scarcity  of  food,  and 
in  a  critical  state  from  the  religious  agitations  on  their  borders.  It  might 
cost  the  king  his  empire  in  the  Netherlands,  and  throw  it  into  the  hands  of  his 
neighbours.43 

"  For  my  own  part,"  he  concludes,  "  if  his  majesty  insists  on  the  execution 
of  these  measures,  rather  than  incur  the  stain  which  must  rest  on  me  and  my 
house  by  attempting  it,  I  will  resign  my  office  into  the  hands  of  some  one 
better  acquainted  with  the  humours  of  the  people,  and  who  will  be  better  able 
to  maintain  order  in  the  country." 4* 

In  the  same  tone  several  of  the  other  provincial  governors  replied  to  Mar- 
garet, declaring  that  they  could  never  coolly  stand  by  and  see  fifty  or  sixty 
thousand  of  their  countrymen  burned  to  death  for  errors  of  religion. 15  The 
regent  was  sorely  perplexed  by  this  desertion  of  the  men  on  whom  she  most 
relied.  She  wrote  to  them  in  a  strain  of  expostulation,  and  besought  the 
prince,  in  particular,  not  to  add  to  the  troubles  of  the  time  by  abandoning 

"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  209.  note  dont  mol  et  lea  miens  porrions  estre 

**  "  Mettant  le  tout  en  hazard  do  venir  es  souilles,  si  quelque  inconvenient  advint  au 

mains  de  nos  voisins."    Correspondance  de  pays  d«  mon  gouvernement,  et  dnrant  ma 

Guillaume  le  Taciturne,  torn.  ii.  p.  109.  charge."    Correspondance   de  Guillaume    le 

'*  "  J'aimerois  mieulx,  en  cas  que  Sadicte  Taciturne,  torn.  ii.  p.  109. 

Majeste  ne  le  veuille  dilaier  jusques  a  14,  et  "  "  Addidere  aliqui.  nolle  se  in  id  operam 

des  a  present  persiste  sur  cette  inquisition  et  conferre,  ut  quinquaginta  aut  sexaginta  ho- 

ex&mtion,  qu'elle  commisse  quelque  autre  en  minum  millia,  se  Provincias  administranti- 

ma  place,  mieu'x  entendant  les  humeurs  du  bus,  igni  concrementur."    Strada,   Ue  Bello 

peuple,  et  plus  habile  que  moi  a  IPS  maintcnir  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  203. 
en  paix  et  repos,  plustost  aue  d'encourlr  la 


ALARM  OF  THE  COUNTRY.  239 

his  post,  where  the  attachment  of  the  people  gave  him  such  unbounded 
influence." 

The  agitations  of  the  country,  in  the  mean  time,  continued  to  increase. 
There  was  a  scarcity  of  bread, — so  often  the  forerunner  of  revolution,— and 
this  article  had  risen  to  an  enormous  price.  The  people  were  menaced  with 
famine,  which  might  have  led  to  serious  consequences,  but  for  a  temporary 
relief  from  Spain.*7 

Rumours  now  began  to  be  widely  circulated  of  the  speedy  coming  of  Philip, 
with  a  large  army,  to  chastise  his  vassals  ;  and  the  rumours  gained  easy  credit 
with  those  who  felt  they  were  already  within  the  pale  of  rebellion.  Duke 
Eric  of  Brunswick  was  making  numerous  levies  on  the  German  borders,  and  it 
was  generally  believed  that  their  destination  was  Flanders.  It  was  in  vain 
that  Margaret,  who  ascertained  the  falsehood  of  the  report,  endeavoured  to 
undeceive  the  people.48 

A  short  time  previously,  in  the  month  of  June,  an  interview  had  taken 
place,  at  Bayonne,  between  the  queen-mother,  Catherine  de  Medicis,  and  her 
daughter,  Isabella  of  Spain.  Instead  of  her  husband,  Isabella  was  accom- 
panied at  th:s  interview  by  the  counsellor  in  whom  he  most  trusted,  the  duke  of 
Alva.  The  two  queens  were  each  attended  by  a  splendid  retinue  of  nobles. 
The  meeting  was  prolonged  for  severa  days,  amidst  a  succassion  of  balls, 
tourneys,  and  magnificent  banquets,  at  which  the  costly  dress  and  equipage  of 
the  French  nobility  contrasted  strangely  enough  with  the  no  less  ostentatious 
simplicity  of  the  Spaniards.  This  simplicity,  so  contrary  to  the  usual  pomp  of 
the  Castilian,  was  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  Philip,  who,  foreseeing  the 
national  emulation,  forbade  the  indulgence  of  it  at  a  foolish  cost,  which  in  the 
end  was  severely  felt  by  the  shattered  finances  of  France. 

Amid  the  brilliant  pageants  which  occupied  the  public  eye,  secret  con- 
ferences were  daily  carried  on  between  Catherine  and  the  duke  of  Alva.  The 
results  were  never  published,  but  enough  found  its  way  into  the  light  to  show 
that  the  principal  object  was  the  extermination  of  heresy  in  France  and  the 
Netherlands.  The  queen-mother  was  for  milder  measures, — though  slower  not 
less  sure.  But  the  iron-hearted  duke  insisted  that  to  grant  liberty  of  con- 
science was  to  grant  unbounded  license.  The  only  way  to  exterminate  the 
evil  was  by  fire  and  sword  !  It  was  on  this  occasion  that,  when  Catherine 
suggested  that  it  was  easier  to  deal  with  the  refractory  commons  than  with 
the  nobles,  Alva  replied,  "  True,  but  ten  thousand  frogs  are  not  worth  the  head 
of  a  single  salmon,  " — an  ominous  simile,  which  was  afterwards  remembered 
against  its  author  when  he  ruled  over  the  Netherlands.5* 

The  report  of  these  dark  conferences  had  reached  the  Low  Countries,  where 
it  was  universally  believed  that  the  object  of  them  was  to  secure  the  co-opera- 
tion of  France  in  crushing  the  liberties  of  Flanders.*1 

••  Correspondance  de  Ouillaume  le  Tacl-  •"  Henry  the  Fourth,  when  a  boy  of  f  leven 

turne.  torn.  il.  p.  112.  years  of  age,  wag  in  the  train  of  Catherine, 

"  Correnpondance  dc  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  and  was  present  at  one  of  her  Interviews  with 

p.  378.  Alva.     It  is  Mid  that  h«  overheard  the  words 

'"  Archives  de  la  Mai  son  d'Orange-Nassao,  of  the  duke  quoted  in  the  text,  and  that  they 

torn.  II.  p.  33.  Hank  deep  Into  the  mind  of  the  future  cham- 

••  ••  A  ce  propos  le  dttcd' Albe  rtpondlt  qne  plon  of  I'rotx-stantUm.     Henry  reported  them 

dlx  mille  frrenouillen  ne  valolent  pas  la  tete  to  his  mother,  Jeanne  d'AUiret,  by  whom 

d'un  saumon."    Slsmondi,  Hist,  des  Kranijals,  they   were    noon    made    public.     Slnmondi, 

torn,    xvlll.  p.  447.— Davlla,   in   telling  the  Hist,  des  Francais.  torn,  xviil.  p.  447.— For 

Mine  story,  rejiorta  the  Mying  of  the  duke  in  the  preceding  paragraph  see  also  De  Thou, 

somewhat  different  wordx :  ••  Diseva  cbe  .  .  .  Hist,    unlverselle,  turn.   v.   p.   34,  et   scq. — 

beongnava  pe.-care  I  pem-l 'gi-'MW',  e  non  si  Cabr«-ra,  Flllpe  Segundo,  lib.  vl.  cap.   23. — 

curniv  dl   prendere    le    ranocchle."    (iuerre  Brantotne,  (Luvres,  torn.  v.  p.  58,  et  seq. 
civUldl  FrancU(MI!ano,l»07),  torn.  I  p.  341.  "  Ills  a  common  opinion  that  at  the  meeting 


240  PHILIP'S  INFLEXIBILITY. 

In  the  panic  thus  spread  throughout  the  country,  the  more  timid  or  pru- 
dent, especially  of  those  who  dwelt  in  the  sea-ports,  began  to  take  measures 
for  avoiding  these  evils  by  emigration.  They  sought  refuge  in  Protestant 
states,  and  especially  in  England,  where  no  less  than  thirty  thousand,  we  are 
told  by  a  contemporary,  tooK  shelter  under  the  sceptre  of  Elizabeth."  They 
swarmed  in  the  cities  of  London  and  Sandwich?  ana  the  politic  queen  assigned 
them  also  the  sea-port  of  Norwich  *  as  their  residence.  Thus  Flemish  industry 
was  transferred  to  English  soil.  The  course  of  trade  between  the  two  nations 
now  underwent  a  change.  The  silk  and  woollen  stuff's  which  had  formerly 
been  sent  from  Flanders  to  England  became  the  staple  of  a  large  export-trade 
from  England  to  Flanders.  "  The  Low  Countries,  writes  the  correspondent 
of  Granvelle,  "  are  the  Indies  of  the  English,  who  make  war  on  our  purses,  as 
the  French,  some  years  since,  made  war  on  our  towns."  ** 

Some  of  the  Flemish  provinces,  instead  of  giving  way  to  despondency, 
appealed  sturdily  to  their  charters,  to  rescue  them  from  the  arbitrary  measures 
of  the  crown.  The  principal  towns  of  Brabant,  with  Antwerp  at  their  head, 
intrenched  themselves  behind  their  Joyeuie  Entree.  The  question  was  brought 
before  the  council ;  a  decree  was  given  in  favour  of  the  applicants,  and  ratified 
by  the  regent ;  and  the  free  soil  of  Brabant  was  no  longer  polluted  by  the 
presence  of  the  Inquisition.44 

The  gloom  now  became  deeper  round  the  throne  of  the  regent.  Of  all  in 
the  Netherlands  the  person  least  to  be  envied  was  the  one  who  ruled  over 
them.  Weaned  from  her  attachment  to  Granvelle  by  the  influence  of  the 
lords.  Margaret  now  found  herself  compelled  to  resume  the  arbitrary  policy 
which  she  disapproved,  and  to  forfeit  the  support  of  the  very  party  to  which  of 
late  she  had  given  all  her  confidence.  The  lords  in  the  council  withdrew  from 
her,  the  magistrates  in  the  provinces  thwarted  her,  and  large  masses  of  the 
population  were  arrayed  in  actual  resistance  against  the  government.  It  may 
seem  strange  that  it  was  not  till  the  spring  of  1566  that  she  received  positive 

at  Bayonne  it  was  arranged    between   the  overcome   the    arguments   of  Catherine    de 

queen-mother  and  Alva  to  revive  the  tragedy  Medieis  in  favour  of  a  milder,  more  rational, 

of  the  Sicilian  Vespers  in  the  honid  massacre  and,  it  may  be  added,  more  politic  course  in 

of    St.   Bartholomew.     I    find,   however,   no  reference  to  the  Huguenots,  he  cannot  justly 

warrant  for  such  an  opinion  in  the  letters  of  be  charged  with  having  directly  recommended 

either  the  duke  or  Don  Juan  Manriqu*  de  those  atrocious  measures  which  have  branded 

Lara,    major-domo   to   Queen    Isabella,  the  her  name  with  infamy.    Yet,  on  the  other 

originals  of  which  are  still  preserved  in  the  hand,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  this  bloody 

Royal  Library  at  Paris.     In  my  copy  of  these  catastrophe  was  a  legitimate  result   of  the 

MSS.  the  letters  of  Alva  to  Philip  the  Second  policy  which  he  advised, 

cover  much  the  largest  space.     They  are  very  "  "On  voit  journellement  gens  de  ce  pays 

minute  in  their  account  of  his  conversation  aller  en    Angleterre,  avec  leurs  families  et 

with   the  queen-mother.    His    great    object  leurs  instruments;  et  ja  Lomires,  Zandvich 

seems  to  have  been  to  persuade  her  to  abandon  et  le  pays  allenviron  est  si  plain,  que  Ton  dit 

her  temporizing  policy,  »nd,  instead  of  en-  que  le  nombre  surpasse  30,000  testes."    As- 

deavouring  to  hold  the  balance  between  the  sonleville  to  Granvrlle,  January  16th,  1565, 

contending  parties,  to  assert,  in  the  most  un-  Oorrespondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1.  p. 

compromising  manner,  the  supremacy  of  the  392. 

Roman  Catholics.  He  endeavoured  to  fortify  sa  "  II  y  a  longtemps  que  ces  Pa'is-Bas  eont 
her  in  this  course  by  the  example  of  his  own  lea  Indes  d"  Angleterre,  et,  tant  qu'ilz  les 
master,  the  king  of  Spain,  repeating  Philip's  anront,  ilz  n'en  ont  besoing  d'aultres."  Cur- 
declaration,  so  often  quoted,  under  various  respondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  382. 
forms,  that "  he  would  surrender  his  kingdom,  "  Meteren,  Hist,  des  Payo-Bas,  torn.  i.  fol. 
nay,  life  itself,  rather  than  reign  over  heretics."  39,  40. — Correspondance  de  Marguerite  d'Au- 
While  the  duke  earnestly  endeavoured  to  triche,  p.  17. 


*  [Sandwich  is  not  a  city,  and  Norwich,  both  places  were  relatively  more  important 
though  accessible  to  vessels  of  small  tonnage,  than  they  now  are,  and  had  a  direct  trade 
is  not  a  sea-port ;  but  in  the  sixteenth  century  with  Antwerp. — ED.] 


ALARM  OF  THE  COUNTRY.  241 

tidings  of  the  existence  of  the  league,  when  she  was  informed  of  it  by 
Eginont  and  some  others  of  the  council  of  state."  As  usual,  the  rumour 
went  beyond  the  truth.  Twenty  or  thirty  thousand  men  were  said  to  be  in 
arms,  and  half  that  number  to  be  prepared  to  march  on  Brussels  and  seize  the 
person  of  the  regent,  unless  she  complied  with  their  demands.4' 

For  a  moment  Margaret  thought  of  taking  refuge  in  the  citadel.  But  she 
soon  rallied,  and  showed  the  spirit  to  have  been  expected  in  the  daughter  of 
Charles  the  Fifth.  She  ordered  the  garrisons  to  be  strengthened  in  the  for- 
tresses throughout  the  country.  She  summoned  the  companies  of  ordonnance 
to  the  capital,  and  caused  them  to  renew  their  oaths  of  fidelity  to  the  king. 
She  wrote  to  the  Spanish  ministers  at  the  neighbouring  courts,  informing  them 
of  the  league,  and  warned  them  to  allow  no  aid  to  be  sent  to  it  from  the  coun- 
tries where  they  resided.  Finally,  she  called  a  meeting  of  the  knights  of  the 
Golden  Fleece  and  the  council  of  state,  for  the  twenty-seventh  of  March,  to 
deliberate  on  the  perilous  situation  of  the  country.  Having  completed  these 
arrangements,  the  duchess  wrote  to  her  brother,  informing  him  exactly  of  the 
condition  of  things  and  suggesting  what  seemed  to  her  counsellors  the  most 
effectual  remedy.  She  wrote  the  more  freely,  as  her  love  of  power  had  yielded 
to  a  sincere  desire  to  extricate  herself  from  the  trials  and  troubles  which 
attended  it." 

There  were  but  two  courses,  she  said,  force  or  concession.5*  The  former,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  ruin  it  would  bring  on  the  land,  was  rendered  difficult  by 
want  of  money  to  pay  the  troops,  and  by  the  want  of  trustworthy  officers  to 
command  them.  Concessions  must  consist  in  abolishing  the  Inquisition, — a 
useless  tribunal  where  sectaries  swarmed  openly  in  the  cities, — in  modifying 
the  edicts,  and  in  granting  a  free  pardon  to  all  who  had  signed  the  Compro- 
mise, provided  they  would  return  to  their  duty.4*  On  these  terms,  the  lords  of 
the  council  were  willing  to  guarantee  the  obedience  of  the  people.  At  all 
events,  they  promised  Margaret  their  support  in  enforcing  it.  She  would  not 
express  her  own  preference  for  either  of  the  alternatives  presented  to  Philip, 
but  would  faithfully  execute  his  commands,  whatever  they  might  be,  to  the 
best  of  her  ability.  Without  directly  expressing  her  preference,  it  was  pretty 
clear  on  which  side  it  lay.  Margaret  concluded  by  earnestly  beseeching  her 
brother  to  return  an  immediate  answer  to  her  despatches  by  the  courier  who 
bore  them. 

The  person  who  seems  to  have  enjoyed  the  largest  share  of  Margaret's  con- 
fidence, at  this  time,  was  Egmont.  He  remained  at  Brussels,  ana  still  kept 
his  seat  in  the  council,  after  William  had  withdrawn  to  his  estates  in  Breda. 
Yet  the  prince,  although  he  had  left  Brussels  in  disgust,  had  not  taken  part 
with  the  confederates,  much  less — as  was  falsely  rumoured,  and  to  his  great 
annoyance — put  himself  at  their  head.60  His  brother,  it  is  true,  and  some  of 
his  particular  friends,  had  joined  the  league.  But  Louis  declares  that  he  did 
so  without  the  knowledge  of  William.  When  the  latter,  a  fortnight  after- 

"  Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  fi.  p.  293.  .  .  .  puhliant  aussy  quant  et  quant  pardon 

'•  Ibid.,     iil>i    supra.— Strada,    De    Bello  general  pour  ceulx  qul  se  sont  meslez  de 

Belgico.  torn.  i.  p.  212.  ladilte  Ligue."    Ibid.,  p.  295. 

•'  Correspondancc  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  ••  "  Lc  Prince  d'Oranges  et   le  Comte  de 

p.  402. — Str.ida,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  Homes  dlsoyent  en  plain  consell  qu'lls  estoy- 

212. — Corrifipuiidance  de  Uuillaume  le  Tacl-  ent  d'intention  de  ee  voullolr  retlrer  en  leurs 

turne,  torn.  II.  p.  132.  matrons.  ...  Be    doulllans    nicsines    le    dil 

*•  Supplement  a  .Strada,  torn.  II.  p.  29».  Prlnos.quel'on  le  tenolt  pour  sunpect  etpour 

"  "(Ktant  I'lnquiftitioM,  qul  en  ce  temps  chief  di-  rente  Confederation."    Kxtrart  from 

est  tant  odiousc  .  .  .  etne  sett  quasi  de  ilens,  the  Proce*  d'Egmont,  In  the  Archives  de  la 

p<mr  estre  lea  Sectaires  anaez  cognuz;  mode-  Maison  d'Orange-Nag&au,  torn.  ii.  p.  42. 
rani  quant  et  quant  U  rigour  dea  Placcarta; 

R 


242  PHILIP'S  INFLEXIBILITY. 

wards,  learned  the' existence  of  the  league,  he  expressed  his  entire  disapproba- 
tion of  it.61  He  even  used  his  authority,  we  are  told,  to  prevent  the  confede- 
rates from  resorting  to  some  violent  measures,  among  others  the  seizure  of 
Antwerp,  promising  that  he  would  aid  them  to  accomplish  their  ends  in  a 
more  orderly  way.61  What  he  desired  was  to  have  the  states-general  called 
together  by  the  king.  But  he  would  not  assume  a  hostile  attitude,  like  that 
of  the  confederates,  to  force  him  into  this  unpalatable  measure.8*  When 
convened,  he  would  have  had  the  legislature,  without  transcending  its  con- 
stitutional limits,  remonstrate,  and  lay  the  grievances  of  the  nation  before  the 
throne. 

This  temperate  mode  of  proceeding  did  not  suit  the  hot  blood  of  the  younger 
confederates.  "Your  brother,"  writes  Hames  to  Louis,  "is  too  slow  and 
lukewarm.  He  would  have  us  employ  only  remonstrance  against  these  hungry 
wolves ;  against  enemies  who  do  nothing  in  return  but  behead,  and  banish,  and 
burn  us.  VVe  are  to  do  the  talking,  and  they  the  acting.  We  must  fight  with 
the  pen,  while  they  fight  with  the  sword."  "4 

The  truth  was,  that  William  was  not  possessed  of  the  fiery  zeal  which  ani- 
mated most  of  the  Reformers.  In  his  early  years,  as  we  have  seen,  he  had 
been  subjected  to  the  influence  of  the  Protestant  religion  at  one  period,  and 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  at  another.  If  the  result  of  this  had  been  to  beget  in 
him  something  like  a  philosophical  indifference  to  the  great  questions  in  dis- 
pute, it  had  proved  eminently  favourable  to  a  spirit  of  toleration.  He  shrank 
from  that  system  of  persecution  which  proscribed  men  for  their  religious 
opinions.  Soon  after  the  arrival  of  the  despatches  from  Segovia,  William 
wrote  to  a  friend,  "  The  king  orders  not  only  obstinate  heretics,  but  even  the 
penitent,  to  be  put  to  death.  I  know  not  how  I  can  endure  this.  It  does  not 
seem  to  me  to  be  acting  in  a  Christian  manner." 8S  In  another  letter  he  says, 
"  I  greatly  fear  these  despatches  will  drive  men  into  rebellion.  I  should  be 
glad,  if  I  could,  to  save  my  country  from  min,  and  so  many  innocent  persons 
from  slaughter.  But  when  I  say  anything  in  the  council  I  am  sure  to  be 
misinterpreted.  So  I  am  greatly  perplexed;  since  speech  and  silence  are 
equally  bad."  " 

Acting  with  his  habitual  caution,  therefore,  he  spoke  little,  and  seldom 
expressed  his  sentiments  in  writing.  "  The  less  one  puts  in  writing,"  he  said 

*'  "  De  laqnelle  estant  advertis  quelques  avons  le  moyen  en  nostre  povoir  sans  ancune 

quinze  jours  apres,  devant  que  les  conf&Jeres  double  de  les  faire  assembler,  mais  on  ne  veult 

se    trouvassent   en    court,   nous  declarames  e.nregueri."   Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange- 

ouvertement  et  rondement  qu'elle  ne  nous  Nassau,  torn.  ii.  p.  37. 

plaisi.it  pas,  et  que  ce  ne  nous  sambloit  estre  "*  "  Us  veullent  que  a  1'obstination  et  en- 

le  vray  moyen  pour  maintenir  le  repos  et  durcissement  de  ces  loups  affiuncz  nous  oppo- 

tranquillite    pnblique."    Extract    from    the  sions   remonstrances,    requestes    et    en     fln 

"Justification"  of  William  (1567),   in  the  parolles,  la  ou  de  leur  coste  ils  ne  cessent 

Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Xassau,  torn.  de  brusler,  coupper  testes,  bannir  et  exercer 

ii.  p.  11.  leur  rage  en  toutes  facons.    Nous  avons  le 

**  This  fact  rests  on  the  authority  of  a  MS.  moyen  de  les  refrener  sans  trouble,  sans  diffi- 

ascribed  to  Junius.     (Brandt,  Reformation  in  cuke,  sans  effusion  de  sang,  sans  guerre,  et 

the  Low  Count!  ies,  vol.  i.  p.  162.)    Groen,  on  ne  le  veult.     Soit  donques,  prenons  la 

however,  distrusts  the  authenticity  of  this  plume  et  eux  1'espee,  nous  les  parolles,  eux  le 

MS.   ( Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  faict."    Ibid.,  p.  36. 

torn.  ii.  p.  12.)    Yet,  whatever  may  be  thought  "  '  Ire  Ma«-  gar  ernstlich  bevelt  das  man 

of  the  expedition  against  Antwerp,  it  appears  nitt  allain  die  sich  in  andere  leren  so  begeben, 

from  William's  own  statement  that  the  con-  sol  verbrennen,  sender  auch  die  sich  widdc- 

federates  did  meditate  some  dangerous  enter-  rumb  bekeren,  sol  koppen  lasen ;  welges  ich 

prise,  from  which  he  dissuaded  them.    See  wahrlich  im  bertzen  hab  gefiilt,  dan  l>ei  mir 

his  "  Apology."    in   Dumont,  Corps   diplo-  nit  findcn  kan  das  crisilich  noch  thuulich  ist." 

matiqne,  torn.  v.  p.  392.  Ibid.,  torn.  i.  p.  440. 

"  "  Les  estatz-generaulx  ayans  pleine  puts-  "  Ibid.,  torn.  ii.  p.  30. 
sance,  est  le  seul  remede  a  nos  maulx ;  nous 


ORANGE  AND  EGMONT.  243 

to  his  less  prudent  brother,  "  the  better."  "  Yet  when  the  occasion  demanded 
it  he  did  not  shrink  from  a  plain  avowal  of  his  sentiments,  both  in  speaking 
and  writing.  Such  was  the  speech  he  delivered  in  council  before  Egmont's 
journey  to  Spain  ;  and  in  the  same  key  was  the  letter  which  he  addressed  to 
the  regent  on  receiving  the  despatches  from  Segovia.  But,  whatever  might  be 
his  reserve,  his  real  opinions  were  not  misunderstood.  He  showed  them  too 
plainly  by  his  actions.  When  Philip's  final  instructions  were  made  known  to 
him  by  Margaret,  the  prince,  as  he  had  before  done  under  Grauvelle,  ceased 
to  attend  the  meetings  of  the  council,  and  withdrew  from  Brussels.68  He  met 
in  Breda,  and  afterwards  in  Hoogstraten,  in  the  spring  of  1566,  a  number  of 
the  principal  nobles,  under  cover,  as  usual,  of  a  banquet.  Discussions  took 
place  on  the  state  of  the  country,  and  some  of  the  confederates  who  were 
present  at  the  former  place  were  for  more  violent  measures  than  William 
approved.  As  he  could  not  bring  them  over  to  his  own  temperate  policy,  he 
acquiesced  in  the  draft  of  a  petition,  which,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  ensuing 
chapter,  was  presented  to  the  regent."  On  the  whole,  up  to  the  period  at 
which  we  are  arrived,  the  conduct  of  the  prince  of  Orange  must  be  allowed  to 
have  been  wise  and  consistent.  In  some  respects  it  forms  a  contrast  to  that 
of  his  more  brilliant  rival,  Count  Egniont. 

This  nobleman  was  sincerely  devoted  to  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  He  was 
staunch  in  his  loyalty  to  the  king.  At  the  same  time  he  was  ardently  attached 
to  his  country,  and  felt  a  generous  indignation  at  the  wrongs  she  suffered  from 
her  rulers.  Thus  Egruont  was  acted  on  by  opposite  feelings ;  and,  as  he  was 
a  man  of  impulse,  his  conduct,  as  he  yielded  sometimes  to  the  one  and  some- 
times to  the  other  of  these  influences,  might  be  charged  with  inconsistency. 
None  charged  him  with  insincerity. 

There  was  that  in  Egmont's  character  which  early  led  the  penetrating 
Granvelle  to  point  him  out  to  Philip  as  a  man  who  by  politic  treatment  might 
be  secured  to  the  royal  cause.79  Philip  and  his  sister,  the  regent,  both  acted 
on  this  hint.  They  would  hardly  have  attempted  as  much  with  Willian\ 
Egmont's  personal  vanity  made  him  more  accessible  to  their  approaches.  It 
was  this,  perhaps,  quite  as  much  as  any  feeling  of  loyalty,  which,  notwith- 
standing the  affront  put  on  him,  as  he  conceived  by  the  king,  induced  him  to 
remain  at  Brussels  and  supply  the  place  in  the  counsels  of  the  regent  which 
William  had  left  vacant.  Yet  we  find  one  of  Granvelle's  correspondents 
speaking  of  Eguiont  as  too  closely  united  with  the  lords  to  be  detached  from 
them.  "  To  say  truth,"  says  the  writer,  "  he  even  falters  in  his  religion  ;  and 
whatever  he  may  say  to-day  on  this  point,  he  will  be  sure  to  say  the  contrary 
to-morrow."71  Such  a  man,  who  could  not  be  true  to  himself,  could  hardly 
become  the  leader  of  others. 

"They  put  Egmont  forward,"  writes  the  regent's  secretary,  "as  the  boldest, 
to  say  what  other  men  dare  not  say." ;*  This  was  after  the  despatches  had 


••  lain  ya  quc  craiguaiu  qu  11  n  en  ttuivii  u>  uuuutio   reriv.,  junc  iiiu,    100.1,   rujneiB 

nne  trex  dangereuse  issue  et  eattniant  que  d'tftut  de  Granvelle,  torn.  vti.  p.  115. 
c«tte  vuye  eotoit  la  plus  douce  et  vrayment  "  "  II  est  tant  \yt  avec  les  Seigneurs,  qu'll 

juridique,  je  confesse  n'avoir  truuve  niauvais  n'y  a  nioivu  de  le  retirer,  et  pour  dire  vray. 

que  la  Kequcnte  fut  presentee."    Apolugy,  in  nutat  in  religione,  et  ce  qu'il   dira  en  ce 

Dumont,  loin.  v.  p.  392.  aujuunl'buy,  il  dlra  tout  le  contralre  lende- 

'•  "  He  e»cripto  dlversa*  vezes  que  era  Men  main."     Archives    de   la  Maisun  d'Orange- 

ganar  a  M.  d'Algniunt;  el  es  de  quien  S.  M.  Mamau,  Supplement,  p.  26. 
puede  hechar  uiano  y  conflar  mas  quo  de  todos  "  "  Ce  xelgneiir  est  a  present  celul  qul  pnrle 

lus  otrus,  y  es  aiuigu  de  buinu,  y  buziendule  le  plus,  el  que  les  autrcs  uicttent  en  avaut, 


244  THE  CONFEDERATES. 

been  received.  "  He  complains  bitterly,"  continues  the  writer,  "  of  the  king's 
insincerity.  The  prince  has  more  finesse.  He  has  also  more  credit  with  the 
nation.  If  you  could  gain  him,  you  will  secure  all.""  Yet  Philip  did  not 
try  to  gain  him.  With  all  his  wealth,  he  was  not  rich  enough  to  do  it.  He 
knew  this,  and  he  hated  William  with  the  hatred  which  a  despotic  monarch 
naturally  bears  to  a  vassal  of  such  a  temper.  He  perfectly  understood  the 
character  of  William.  The  nation  understood  it  too;  and,  with,  all  their 
admiration  for  the  generous  qualities  of  Egmont,  it  was  to  his  greater  rival 
that  they  looked  to  guide  them  in  the  coming  struggle  of  the  revolution. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  CONFEDERATES. 

Designs  of  the  Confederates— They  enter  Brussels— The  Petition— The  Gueux. 
1566. 

THE  party  of  the  malecontents  in  the  Netherlands  comprehended  persons  of 
very  different  opinions,  who  were  by  no  means  uniformly  satisfied  with  the 
reasonable  objects  proposed  by  the  Compromise.  Some  demanded  entire 
liberty  of  conscience.  Others  would  not  have  stopped  short  of  a  revolution 
that  would  enable  the  country  to  shake  off  the  Spanish  yoke.  And  another 
class  of  men  without  principle  of  any  kind — such  as  are  too  often  thrown  up 
in  strong  political  fermentations — looked  to  these  intestine  troubles  as  offering 
the  means  of  repairing  their  own  fortunes  out  of  the  wreck  of  their  country's. 
Yet,  with  the  exception  of  the  last,  there  were  few  who  would  not  have  been 
content  to  accept  the  Compromise  as  the  basis  of  their  demands. 

The  winter  had  passed  away,  however,  and  the  confederacy  had  wrought 
no  change  in  the  conduct  of  tne  government.  Indeed,  the  existence  of  the 
confederacy  would  not  appear  to  have  been  known  to  the  regent  till  the  latter 
part  of  February,  1566.  It  was  not  till  the  close  of  the  following  month  that 
it  was  formally  disclosed  to  her  by  some  of  the  great  lords.1  If  it  was  known 
to  her  before,  Margaret  must  have  thought  it  prudent  to  affect  ignorance  till 
some  overt  action  on  the  part  of  the  league  called  for  her  notice. 

It  became  then  a  question  with  the  members  of  the  league  what  was  next 
to  be  done.  It  was  finally  resolved  to  present  a  petition  in  the  name  of  the 
whole  body  to  the  regent,  a  measure  which,  as  already  intimated,  received 
the  assent,  if  not  the  approbation,  of  the  prince  of  Orange.  The  paper  was 
prepared,  as  it  would  seem,  in  William's  own  house  at  Brussels,  by  his  brother 
Louis,  and  was  submitted,  we  are  told,  to  the  revision  of  the  prince,  who  thus 
had  it  in  his  power  to  mitigate,  in  more  than  one  instance,  the  vehemence,  or 
rather  violence,  of  the  expressions.2 


71  "  Le  prince  d'Orange  precede  avec  plus  Canto,  the  royitl  cvntador,  takes  a  different 

de  finesse  quo  M.  d'Kgmont :  il  a  plus  de  and  by  no  means  so  probable  a  view  of  Wil- 

credit  en  general  et  tn  particulier,  ei,  si  Ton  Ham's  amendments:  "Quand  les  seigneurs 

pouvait  le  gagner,  on  s'assurerait  de  tout  le  tenaient  leurs  assemblies  secretes  a  Bruxellcs, 

restc."  Ibid.,  ubi  supra.  c'etait  en  la  maison  du  prince  d'Orangp,  ou  ils 

1  Ibid.,  pp.  399, 401.  entraient  de  nuit  par  la  porte  de  derriere :  ce 


THEIR  DESIGNS.  245 

To  give  greater  effect  to  the  petition,  it  was  determined  that  a  large  depu- 
tation from  the  league  should  accompany  its  presentation  to  the  regent. 
Notice  was  given  to  four  hundred  of  the  confederates  to  assemble  at  the 
beginning  of  April.  They  were  to  come  well  mounted  and  armed,  prepared 
at  once  to  proceed  to  Brussels.  Among  the  number  thus  enrolled,  we  find 
three  gentlemen  of  Margaret's  own  household,  as  well  as  some  members  of 
the  companies  of  ordonnance  commanded  by  the  prince,  and  by  the  Counts 
Egmont  and  Hoorne,  and  other  great  lords.* 

The  duchess,  informed  of  these  proceedings,  called  a  meeting  of  the  council 
of  state  and  the  knights  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  to  determine  on  the  course  to 
be  pursued.  The  discussion  was  animated,  as  there  was  much  difference  of 
opinion.  Some  agreed  with  Count  Barlaimont  in  regarding  the  measure  in 
the  light  of  a  menace.  Such  a  military  array  could  have  no  other  object  than 
to  overawe  the  government,  and  was  an  insult  to  the  regent.  In  the  present 
excited  state  of  the  people,  .it  would  be  attended  with  the  greatest  danger  to 
allow  their  entrance  into  the  capital.4 

The  prince  of  Orange,  who  had  yielded  to  Margaret's  earnest  entreaties 
that  he  would  attend  this  meeting,  took  a  different  view  of  the  matter.  The 
number  of  the  delegates,  he  saia,  only  proved  the  interest  taken  in  the 
petition.  They  were  men  of  rank,  some  of  them  kinsmen  or  personal  friends 
of  those  present.  Their  characters  and  position  in  the  country  were  sufficient 
sureties  that  they  meditated  no  violence  to  the  state.  They  were  the  repre- 
sentatives of  an  ancient  order  of  nobility ;  and  it  would  be  strange  indeed  if 
they  were  to  be  excluded  from  the  right  of  petition,  enjoyed  by  the  humblest 
individual.  In  the  course  of  the  debate,  William  made  some  personal  allusions 
to  his  own  situation,  delivering  himself  with  great  warmth.  His  enemies,  he 
said,  had  the  royal  ear,  and  would  persuade  the  king  to  kill  him  and  confiscate 
his  property.*  He  was  even  looked  upon  as  the  head  of  the  confederacy.  It 
was  of  no  use  for  him  to  give  his  opinion  in  the  council,  where  it  was  sure  to 
be  misinterpreted.  All  that  remained  for  him  was  to  ask  leave  to  resign  his 
offices  and  withdraw  to  his  estates.6  Count  Hoorne  followed  in  much  the 
same  key,  inveighing  bitterly  against  the  ingratitude  of  Philip.  The  two 
nobles  yielded,  at  length,  so  far  to  Margaret's  remonstrances  as  to  give  their 
opinions  on  the  course  to  be  pursued.  But  when  she  endeavoured  to  recall 
them  to  their  duty  by  reminding  them  of  their  oaths  to  the  king,  they  boldly 
replied,  they  would  willingly  lay  down  their  lives  for  their  country,  but  would 
never  draw  sword  for  the  edicts  or  the  Inquisition.7  William's  views  in  regard 
to  the  admission  of  the  confederates  into  Brussels  were  supported  by  much 
the  greater  part  of  the  assembly,  and  finally  prevailed  with  the  regent. 

On  the  third  of  AprU,  1566,  two  hundred  of  the  confederates  entered  the 
gates  of  Brussels.  They  were  on  horseback,  and  each  man  was  furnished 
with  a  brace  of  pistols  in  his  holsters,  wearing  in  other  respects  only  the  usual 
arms  of  a  private  gentleman.  The  Viscount  Brederode  and  Louis  of  Nassau 
rode  at  their  head.*  They  prudently  conformed  to  William's  advice,  not  to 

fut  U  qne  la  requete  des  conf6deres  fut  mo-  p.  403. 

diflee    et    rendu   pire."    Correspondance  <le  •  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii. 

Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  n.  411.  p.  404. 

'  Archives  de  la  Maiaoii  d'Orang-^Nassau,  *  "  Il«  r*pondlrent  qu'ils  nevonlaient  pas 

torn.  It.  p.  69,  et  not).  Be  battre  pour  le  maintien  de  requisition  ot 

4  Sir  id.i,  De  Hello  Belgico,  torn.  I.  p.  213.  >\  •>  placards,  mat*  qu'lta  le  fenilout  p»ur  la 

*  "Homines  gentl  Naxoaviiv  liifenslsslmos  conservation  du  pays."     Ibid.,  nbi  suora. 

dp   nece   ipslu  ,  deque  fortunarum  omnium  *  "  Eo  Ipfto    die   sub    vesperam   o>njuratl 

nuMlcatione  agitavlsse  cum  Ilege."     Vander  Bruxellits  advenere.     Erant  (III  in  equln  om- 

lln  r.    De   Inltilft   I'liiniiltintiii.  p.   215.     See  nino   ducentl,    fnreniti    vente    ornatl,    gexta- 

also  CoMvupoii.lanoi  do  Philippe  U.,  torn.  I.  bautque  *lngiill   bina  ante  ephippium  sclo- 


246  THE  CONFEDERATES. 

bring  any  foreigners  in  their  train,  and  to  enter  the  city  quietly,  without 
attempting  to  stir  the  populace  by  any  military  display,  or  the  report  of  fire- 
arms.' Their  coming  was  welcomed  with  general  joy  by  the  inhabitants,  who 
greeted  them  as  a  band  of  patriots  ready  to  do  battle  for  the  liberties  of  their 
country.  They  easily  found  quarters  in  the  houses  of  the  principal  citizens  ; 
and  Louis  and  Brederode  were  lodged  in  the  mansion  of  the  prince  of 
Orange.10 

On  the  following  day  a  meeting  of  the  confederates  was  held  at  the  hotel 
of  Count  Culemborg,  where  they  listened  to  a  letter  which  Brederode  had  just 
received  from  Spain,  informing  him  of  the  death  of  Morone,  a  Flemish  noble- 
man well  known  to  them  all,  who  had  perished  in  the  flames  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion.11 With  feelings  exasperated  by  this  gloomy  recital,  they  renewed,  in 
the  most  solemn  manner,  their  oaths  of  fidelity  to  the  league.  An  application 
was  then  made  to  Margaret  for  leave  to  lay  their  petition  before  her.  The 
day  following  was  assigned  for  the  act ;  and  at  noon,  on  the  fifth  of  April, 
the  whole  company  walked  in  solemn  procession  through  the  streets  of 
Brussels  to  the  palace  of  the  regent.  She  received  them,  surrounded  by  the 
lords,  in  the  great  hall  adjoining  the  council -chamber.  As  they  defiled  before 
her,  the  confederates  ranged  themselves  along  the  sides  of  the  apartment. 
Margaret  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  disconcerted  by  the  presence  of  so 
martial  an  array  within  the  walls  of  her  palace.  But  she  soon  recovered  her- 
self, and  received  them  graciously  '* 

Brederode  was  selected  to  present  the  petition,  and  he  prefaced  it  by  a 
short  address.  They  had  come  in  such  numbers,  he  said,  the  better  to  show 
their  respect  to  the  regent,  and  the  deep  interest  they  took  in  the  cause. 
They  had  been  accused  of  opening  a  correspondence  with  foreign  princes, 
which  he  affirmed  to  be  a  malicious  slander,  and  boldly  demanded  to  be  con- 
fronted with  the  authors  of  it.13  Notwithstanding  this  stout  denial,  it  is  very 
possible  the  audience  did  not  place  implicit  confidence  in  the  assertions  of  the 
speaker.  He  then  presented  the  petition  to  the  regent,  expressing  the  hope 
that  she  would  approve  of  it,  as  dictated  only  by  their  desire  to  promote  the 
glory  of  the  king  and  the  good  of  the  country.  If  this  was  its  object,  Mar- 

faret  replied,  she  doubted  not  she  should  be  content  with  it.14  The  following 
ay  was  named  for  them  again  to  wait  on  her  and  receive  her  answer. 
The  instrument  began  with  a  general  statement  of  the  distresses  of  the 
land,  much  like  that  in  the  Compromise,  but  couched  in  more  respectful  lan- 
guage. The  petitioners  had  hoped  that  the  action  of  the  great  lords,  or  of 
the  states-general,  would  have  led  to  some  reform.  But  finding  these  had 
not  moved  in  the  matter,  while  the  evil  went  on  increasing  from  day  to  day, 
until  ruin  was  at  the  gate,  they  had  come  to  beseech  Jher  highness  to  lay  the 
subject  herself  before  the  king,  and  implore  his  majesty  to  rave  the  country 
from  perdition  by  the  instant  abolition  of  both  the  Inquisition  and  the  edicts. 
Far  from  wishing  to  dictate  laws  to  their  sovereign,  they  humbly  besought 
her  to  urge  on  him  the  necessity  of  convoking  the  states-general  and  devising 
with  them  some  effectual  remedy  for  the  existing  evils.  Meanwhile  they 

peta,  prseibat  ductor  Brederodius,  juxtaqne  Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Ban,  fol.  40. 

Ludovicus     Nassavius.  '      Strada,    De   Beilo  "  "Nobiles  enixi  earn  rogare,  ut  proferat 

Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  221.  noniina  eorum  qni  hoc  detulere:   cogatque 

*  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orangc-Nassau,  illos  accusationem  lepitime  ac  palam  ador- 

tom.  ii.  pp.  74,  75.  nare."    Strada,    De    Bello    Belgico,    torn.   i. 

10  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  1.  p.  221.  p.  222. 

11  Ibid.,  ubi  supra.  l4  "Quando  nonnisi  R^gls  dipnitfltPtn,  pa- 
"  Ibid  ,     pp.     222.     226.— Vandervynrkt,  tria-que  salutem  eppctabant,  haiid  duhie  pos- 

Troublea  des  Paya-Bas,  torn.  ii.   p.   138. —        tulatis  tatisfacturaiu."    Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 


THE  PETITION.  247 

begged  of  her  to  suspend  the  further  execution  of  the  laws  in  regard  to  religion 
until  his  majesty's  pleasure  could  be  known.  If  their  prayer  were  not 
granted,  they  at  least  were  absolved  from  all  responsibility  as  to  the  con- 
sequences, now  that  they  had  done  their  duty  as  true  and  loyal  subjects.1* 
The  business-like  character  of  this  document  forms  a  contrast  to  the  decla- 
matory style  of  the  Compromise  ;  and  in  its  temperate  tone,  particularly,  we 
may  fancy  we  recognize  the  touches  of  the  more  prudent  hand  of  the  piince 
of  Orange. 

On  the  sixth,  the  confederates  again  assembled  in  the  palace  of  the  regent, 
to  receive  her  answer.  They  were  in  greater  force  than  before,  having  been 
joined  by  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  their  brethren,  who  had  entered  the  city  the 
night  previous,  under  the  command  of  Counts  Culemborg  and  Berg.  They 
were  received  by  Margaret  in  the  same  courteous  manner  as  on  the  preceding 
day,  and  her  answer  was  made  to  them  in  writing,  being  indorsed  on  their 
own  petition. 

She  announced  hi  it  her  purpose  of  using  all  her  influence  with  her  royal 
brother  to  persuade  him  to  accede  to  their  wishes.  They  might  rely  on  Jus 
doing  all  that  was  conformable  to  his  natural  and  accustomed  benignity.1* 
She  had  herself,  with  the  advice  of  her  council  and  the  knights  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  prepared  a  scheme  for  moderating  the  edicts,  to  be  laid  before  his 
majesty,  which  she  trusted  would  satisfy  the  nation.  They  must,  however, 
be  aware  that  she  herself  had  no  power  to  suspend  the  execution  of  the  laws. 
But  she  would  send  instructions  to  the  inquisitors  to  proceed  with  all  dis- 
cretion in  the  exercise  of  their  functions,  until  they  should  learn  the  king's 
pleasure.17  She  trusted  that  the  confederates  would  so  demean  themselves 
as  not  to  make  it  necessary  to  give  different  orders.  All  this  she  had  done 
with  the  greater  readiness,  from  her  conviction  that  they  had  no  design  to 
make  any  innovation  in  the  established  religion  of  the  country,  but  desired 
rather  to  uphold  it  in  all  its  vigour. 

To  this  reply,  as  gracious  in  its  expressions,  and  as  favourable  in  its  import, 
as  the  league  could  possibly  have  expected,  they  made  a  formal  answer  in 
writing,  which  they  presenteu  in  a  body  to  the  duchess  on  the  eighth  of  the 
month.  They  humbly  thanked  her  for  the  prompt  attention  she  had  given 
to  their  petition,  but  would  have  been  still  more  contented  if  her  answer  had 
been  more  full  and  explicit.  They  knew  the  embarrassments  under  which 
she  laboured,  and  they  thanked  her  for  the  assurance  she  had  given — which, 
it  may  be  remarked,  she  never  did  give — that  all  proceedings  connected  with 
the  Inquisition  and  the  edicts  should  be  stayed  until  his  majesty's  pleasure 
should  be  ascertained.  They  were  most  anxious  to  conform  to  whatever  the 
king,  with  the  advice  and  consent  of  the  states-general,  duly  assembled, 
should  determine  in  matters  of  religion  ;  "  and  they  would  show  their  obedi- 
ence by  taking  such  order  for  their  own  conduct  as  should  give  entire  satisfac- 
tion to  her  highness. 

To  this  the  duchess  briefly  replied,  that  if  there  were  any  cause  for  offence 

11  The  copy  of  tMs  document  given   by  "  ••  Pendant  que  s'attrml  sa  reaponce.  Son 

Oroen  Is  from  the  papers  of  Count  Ixmis  of  Alteze  donnera  ordre,  que  taut  par  Irs  Inqui- 
Nassau,  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orauge-  •  siteum,  ou  il  y  en  a  en  Jusques  ores,  que  par 

Nassau,  torn.  il.  pp.  80-84.  les  offlciere  reoprctlvemcnt,  soil  precede  dis- 

'•  "  Lesqnels  ue   doibvent  esperer.  slnon  cretement  et  modeetenient."    Ibid  .  p.  85. 

tonte  chose  dlgne  et  conforme  a,  to.  btnignitt  "  "  Ne  desi'ons  slnon  d'ensuyvre  tout  ce 

wat/'ne   et    aecouttttmee."      Archives    Je    La  que  pur  Sa  Ma1*  avecq  1'advis  it  consente- 

Maison  d'Orangc-Nassau.  torn.  II.  p.  84. — The  im-nt  des  esUts-generaulx  aswamblez  serat 

phrase  muxt  have  sounded  oddly  enough  in  ordonn£  pour  le  maintenrment  de  I'aucblenne 

tb«  ears  of  the  confederate*.  religion."    Ibid.,  p.  86. 


248  THE  CONFEDERATES. 

hereafter  it  would  be  chargeable  not  on  her,  but  on  them.  She  prayed  the 
confederates  henceforth  to  desist  from  their  secret  practices,  and  to  invite  no 
new  member  to  join  their  body." 

This  brief  and  admonitory  reply  seems  not  to  have  been  to  the  taste  of  the 
petitioners,  who  would  willingly  have  drawn  from  Margaret  some  expression 
that  might  be  construed  into  a  sanction  of  their  proceedings.  After  a  short 
deliberation  among  themselves,  they  again  addressed  her  by  the  mouth  of  one 
of  their  own  number,  the  lord  of  Kerdes.  The  speaker,  after  again  humbly 
thanking  the  regent  for  her  favourable  answer,  said  that  it  would  have  given 
still  greater  satisfaction  to  his  associates  if  she  would  but  have  declared,  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  lords  assembled,  that  she  took  the  union  of  the  con- 
federates in  good  part  and  for  the  service  of  the  king ; 20  and  he  concluded 
with  promising  that  they  would  henceforth  do  all  in  their  power  to  give  con- 
tentment to  her  highness. 

To  all  this  the  duchess  simply  replied,  she  had  no  doubt  of  it.  When  again 
pressed  by  the  persevering  deputy  to  express  her  opinion  of  this  assembly, 
she  bluntly  answered,  she  could  form  no  judgment  in  the  matter.21  She  gave 
pretty  clear  evidence,  however,  of  her  real  opinion,  soon  after,  by  dismissing 
the  three  gentlemen  of  her  household  whom  we  have  mentioned  as  having 
joined  the  league.2* 

As  Margaret  found  that  the  confederates  were  not  altogether  satisfied  with 
her  response  to  their  petition,  she  allowed  Count  Hoogstraten,  one  of  her 
councillors,  to  inform  some  of  them,  privately,  that  she  had  already  written  to 
the  provinces  to  have  all  processes  in  affairs  of  religion  stayed  until  Philip's 
decision  should  be  known.  To  leave  no  room  for  distrust,  the  count  was 
allowed  to  show  them  copies  of  the  letters.2* 

The  week  spent  by  the  league  in  Brussels  was  a  season  of  general  jubilee. 
At  one  of  the  oanquets  given  at  Culemborg  House,  where  three  hundred  con- 
federates were  present,  Brederode  presided.  During  the  repast  he  related  to 
some  of  the  company,  who  had  arrived  on  the  day  after  the  petition  was  de- 
livered, the  manner  in  which  it  had  been  received  by  the  duchess.  She  seemed 
at  first  disconcerted,  he  said,  by  the  number  of  the  confederates,  but  was 
reassured  by  Barlaimont,  who  told  her  "  they  were  nothing  but  a  crowd  of 
beggars."24  This  greatly  incensed  some  of  the  company, — with  whom, 
probably,  it  was  too  true  for  a  jest.  But  Brederode,  taking  it  more  good- 
humouredly,  said  that  he  and  his  friends  had  no  objection  to  the  name,  since 
they  were  ready  at  any  time  to  become  beggars  for  the  service  of  their  king 
and  country.*4  This  sally  was  received  with  great  applause  by  the  guests, 

"  "  Vous  prians  de  ne  passer  pins  avant  people  might  not  Interpret  it  into  a  condem- 
par  petites  practicques  secretes  et  de  n'attirer  nation  of  their  proceedings.  To  this  Mar- 
plus  personne."  Archives  de  la  Maison  garet  replied,  with  some  spirit,  that  it  was 
d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  ii.  p.  88.  her  own  private  affair,  and  she  claimed  the 

*°  "  De  bonne  part  et  pour  le  service  du  right  that  belonged  to  every  other  individual. 

Roy."    Ibid.,  p.  89.  of  managing  her  own   household  in  her  own 

*'  "Et    comme  ma   dite  dame  respondit  way. — One  will  readily  believe  that  Louis 

qn'elle  le  croyt  ainsy,  n'affermant  nullement  did  not  act  by  the  advice  of  his  brother  in  this 

en  quelle  part  elle  recevoit  nostre  assemble*,  matter.    See  the  correspondence  as  collected 

luy  fut  replicque  par  le  dtt.  Sf  de  Kerdes :  by  the  diligent  Groen,  Archives  de  la  Maison 

Madame,  11  plairast  a  V.  A.  en  dire  ce  qu'elle  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  ii.  pp.  100-105. 

en  sent,  a  quoy  elle  respondit  qu'elle  ne  pon-  °J  Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Baa,  fol.  41. 

volt   juger."      Ibid.,    ul>l    supra. — See    also  **  "Ilium  quidem,  nt  Gubernatricis  ani- 

Strada  (De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  225),  who,  mum  flrmaret,  ita  locutum,  quasi  n^hil  ei  a 

however,  despatches  this  interview  with  the  mendicis    ac    nebulonibus    pertimescendum 

Seigneur  de  Kerdes  in  a  couple  of  sentences.  reset."    Strada,  De  Be  Ho  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p. 

'•"  Count  Louis  drew  up  a  petition  to  the  226. 

duchess,  or  rather  a  remonstrance,  requesting  "  "  Se  ver6  libenter  appellationem  111am, 

her  to  state  the  motives  of  this  act,  that  quffi  ea  o.umque  easel,  accipere,  ac  Regis  pa- 


THE  GUEUX.  249 

who,  as  they  drank  to  one  another,  shouted  forth,  "  Vivent  les  Gueux  !"  — 
"  Lonsj  live  the  beggars  !  " 

Brederode,  finding  the  jest  took  so  well,  —  an  event,  indeed,  for  which  he 
seems  to  have  been  prepared,  —  left  the  room,  and  soon  returned  with  a  beggar's 
wallet,  and  a  wooden  bowl,  such  as  was  used  by  the  mendicant  fraternity  in 
the  Netherlands.  Then,  pledging  the  company  in  a  buiuper,  he  swore  to 
devote  his  life  and  fortune  to  the  cause.  The  wallet  and  the  bowl  went  round 
the  table  ;  and,  as  each  of  the  merry  guests  drank  in  turn  to  his  confederates, 
the  shout  arose  of  "  Vivent  lei  Gueux  !  "  until  the  hall  rang  with  the  mirth 
of  the  revellers." 

It  happened  that  at  the  time  the  prince  of  Orange  and  the  Counts  Egmont 
and  Hoorne  were  passing  by  on  their  way  to  the  council.  Their  attention  was 
attracted  by  the  noise,  and  they  paused  a  moment,  when  William,  who  knew 
well  the  temper  of  the  jovial  company,  proposed  that  they  should  go  in  and 
endeavour  to  break  up  their  revels.  We  may  have  some  business  of  the 
council  to  transact  with  these  men  this  evening,"  he  said,  "  and  at  this  rate 
they  will  hardly  be  in  a  condition  for  it."  The  appearance  of  the  three  nobles 
gave  a  fresh  impulse  to  the  boisterous  merriment  of  the  company  ;  and  as  the 
new-comers  pledged  their  friends  in  the  wine-cup,  it  was  received  with  the 
same  thundering  acclamations  of  "  Vivent  les  Gueux  !  "  tr  This  incident,  of 
so  little  importance  in  itself,  was  afterwards  made  of  consequence  by  the  turn 
that  was  given  to  it  in  the  prosecution  of  the  two  unfortunate  noblemen  who 
accompanied  the  prince  of  Orange. 

Every  one  knows  the  importance  of  a  popular  name  to  a  faction,  —  a  nom  de 
guerre,  under  which  its  members  may  rally  and  make  head  together  as  an 
independent  party.  Such  the  name  of  "  Gueuxn  now  became  to  the  con- 
federates. It  soon  was  understood  to  signify  those  who  were  opposed  to  the 
government,  and,  in  a  wider  sense,  to  the  Roman  Catholic  religion.  In  every 
language  in  which  the  history  of  these  acts  has  been  recorded,  —  the  Latin, 
German,  Spanish,  or  English,  —  the  French  term  Gueiix  is  ever  employed  to 
designate  this  party  of  malecontents  in  the  Netherlands.2* 

It  now  became  common  to  follow  out  the  original  idea  by  imitations  of  the 
different  articles  used  by  mendicants.  Staffs  were  procured,  after  the  fashion 
of  those  in  the  hands  of  the  pilgrims,  but  more  elaborately  carved.  Wooden 
bowls,  spoons,  and  knives  became  in  great  request,  though  richly  inlaid  with 
silver,  according  to  the  fancy  or  wealth  of  the  possessor.  Medals  resembling 
those  stuck  by  the  beggars  in  their  bonnets  were  worn  as  a  badge  ;  and  the 
"  Gueux  penny,"  as  it  was  called,  —  a  gold  or  silver  coin,—  was  hung  from  the 
neck,  bearing  on  one  side  the  ettigy  of  Philip,  with  the  inscription,  "  Fiddles 
au  roi  ;  "  and  on  the  other,  two  hands  grasping  a  beggar's  wallet,  with  the 
further  legend,  "jiuqutt  d  porter  la  besace  ;  "  —  "  Faithful  to  the  king,  even 


trltpque  rauiw  Gheusios   se  mendicosque   re  et  les  comtes  d'Kgmont  et  de  Homes  vinrent 

ipaa  futuros."    Strada,  De  Bello  It  Igico,  ubl  a  U  maisoii   de  Culembourg  apres  le  dtner  ; 

supra.  11s  burent  avec  les  confederes.   et  crierent 

••  Strada,   T>*   Bello  Belgico.  ubl  supra.—  aussi  vivent  le*  gueux  .'  "    Correspondance  de 

Vander  Haer,  De  IiiUlitt  Tumult  mim,  p.  211.  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  p.  409. 

—  Coirenpondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  "  Strada.  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  I.  p.  327. 

149.  —  VainliTvym-kt.TroiiU<--  de*  I'.iv  H  is  —  Vandervynckt,  Troubles  dea  Pays-  lias,  torn. 

torn.  II.  p.  142,  et  seq.—  Thin  last  author  tells  it.  p.   143.—  The  word  gueux  is  derived  by 

thr  story  with  uncommon  animation.  Vander  Haer  from  <><>tk,  in  the  olJ  German 

"  So  nays  Strada.    (De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  form,  (Jeute:  "  Eand'-m  ease  earn  vocem  gal- 

it,  p.  227.)   But  the  duchesn.  In  a  letter  written  licam  qua)    esset    Teutonum    vox,   lit-m  n, 

in  cipher  to  the  king,  tells  him  that  the  three  quam  maiores  vel  Gotbis  gentl  Barbara-  in 

lords  pledged  the  company  in  the  same  toast  bulasent,  vel  odlo  Qotblcl  noiiiini-  convicium 

uf  "  Virrttt  let  Gueux!"  that  had  been  going  fecUaent."     De  InitiU  Tumult  num.  p.  212. 
the  round*  of  the  table.  "  Le  prince  d'Orange* 


250  FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP. 

to  carrying  the  wallet."29  Even  the  garments  of  the  mendicant  were  affected 
by  the  confederates,  who  used  them  as  a  substitute  for  their  family  liveries  ; 
and  troops  of  their  retainers,  clad  in  the  ash-gray  habiliments  of  the  begging 
friars,  might  be  seen  in  the  streets  of  Brussels  and  the  other  cities  of  the 
Netherlands.30 

On  the  tenth  of  April,  the  confederates  quitted  Brussels,  in  the  orderly 
manner  in  which  they  had  entered  it ;  except  that,  on  issuing  from  the  gate,  they 
announced  their  departure  by  firing  a  salute  in  honour  of  the  city  which  had 
given  them  so  hospitable  a  welcome.11  Their  visit  to  Brussels  had  not  only 
created  a  great  sensation  in  the  capital  itself,  but  throughout  the  country. 
Hitherto  the  league  had  worked  in  darkness,  as  it  were,  like  a  band  of  secret 
conspirators.  But  they  had  now  come  forward  into  the  light  of  day,  boldly 
presenting  themselves  before  the  regent,  and  demanding  redress  of  the  wrongs 
under  which  the  nation  was  groaning.  The  people  took  heart,  as  they  saw 
this  broad  aegis  extended  over  them  to  ward  off  the  assaults  of  arbitrary  power. 
Their  hopes  grew  stronger,  as  they  became  assured  of  the  interposition  of  the 
regent  and  the  great  lords  in  their  favour ;  and  they  could  hardly  doubt 
that  the  voice  of  the  country,  backed  as  it  was  by  that  of  the  government, 
would  make  itself  heard  at  Madrid,  and  that  Philip  would  at  length  be  com- 
pelled to  abandon  a  policy  which  menaced  him  with  the  loss  of  the  fairest 
of  his  provinces.  They  had  yet  to  learn  the  character  of  their  sovereign. 


CHAPTER  XL 

FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP. 

Tbe  Edicts  suspended — The  Sectaries — The  Puhlic  Preachings — Attempt  to  suppress  them— 
Meeting  at  St.  Trend— Philip's  Concessions. 

1566. 

ON  quitting  Brussels,  the  confederates  left  there  four  of  their  number  as  a 
sort  of  committee  to  watch  over  the  interests  of  the  league.  The  greater  part 
of  the  remainder,  with  Brederode  at  their  head,  took  the  road  to  Antwerp. 
They  were  hardly  established  in  their  quarters  in  that  city  when  the  building 
was  surrounded  by  thousands  of  the  inhabitants,  eager  to  give  their  visitors  a 
tumultuous  welcome.  Brederode  came  out  on  the  balcony,  and,  addressing 
the  crowd,  told  them  that  he  had  come  there,  at  the  hazard  of  his  life,  to 
rescue  them  from  the  miseries  of  the  Inquisition.  He  called  on  his  audience 
to  take  him  as  their  leader  in  this  glorious  work  ;  and  as  the  doughty  champion 
pledged  them  in  a  goblet  of  wine  which  he  had  brought  with  nim  from  the 
table,  the  mob  answered  by  such  a  general  shout  as  was  heard  in  the  farthest 

**  Vander  Haer,  De  Initiis  Ttnnultuum,  vynckt.    See  his  Troubles  des  Pays-Bas,  torn, 

loc.  cit.— Strada,  DC  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  ii.  p.  143. 

228.— Arend,  in  his  Algemeene  Geschiedenis  '"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  228. 

des  Vaderlands,  has  given  engravings  of  these  — Vander  Haer,   De  Initiis  Tumultuuin,  p. 

medals,  on  which  the  devices  and  inscriptions  212 

were  not  always  precisely  the  same.  Some  "  "  En  sortant  de  la  porte  de  la  ville,  ils 
of  these  mendicant  paraphernalia  are  still  to  ont  fait  une  grande  decharge  de  leurs  pis- 
be  found  in  ancient  cabinets  hi  the  Low  tolets."  Correspondauce  de  Philippe  II.,  torn. 
Countries,  or  were  in  the  time  of  Vander-  i.  p.  408. 


THE  EDICTS  SUSPENDED.  251 

corners  of  the  city.1  Thus  a  relation  was  openly  established  between  the  con- 
federates and  the  people,  who  were  to  move  forward  together  in  the  great 
march  of  the  revolution. 

Soon  after  the  departure  of  the  confederates  from  Brussels,  the  regent 
despatched  an  embassy  to  Madrid  to  acquaint  the  king  with  the  recent  pro- 
ceedings and  to  urge  his  acquiescence  in  the  reforms  solicited  by  the  league. 
The  envoys  chosen  were-  the  baron  de  Montigny — who  had  taken  charge,  it 
may  be  remembered,  of  a  similar  mission  before — and  the  marquis  of  Bergen, 
a  nobleman  of  liberal  principles,  but  who  stood  high  in  the  regard  of  the 
regent.1  Neither  of  the  parties  showed  any  alacrity  to  undertake  a  commis- 
sion which  was  to  bring  them  so  closely  in  contact  with  the  dread  monarch  in 
his  capital.  Bergen  found  an  apology  for  some  time  in  a  wound  from  a  tennis- 
ball,  which  disabled  his  leg ;  an  ominous  accident,  interpreted  by  the'chroniclers 
of  the  time  into  an  intimation  from  Heaven  of  the  disastrous  issue  of  the 
mission.*  Montigny  reached  Madrid  some  time  before  his  companion,  on  the 
seventeenth  of  June,  and  met  with  a  gracious  reception  from  Philip,  who 
listened  with  a  benignant  air  to  the  recital  of  the  measures  suggested  for  the 
relief  of  the  country,  terminating,  as  usual,  with  an  application  for  a  summons 
of  the  states-general,  as  the  most  effectual  remedy  for  the  disorders.  But, 
although  the  envoy  was  admitted  to  more  than  one  audience,  he  obtained  no 
more  comfortable  assurance  than  that  the  subject  should  receive  the  most 
serious  consideration  of  his  majesty.4 

Meanwhile  the  regent  was  busy  in  digesting  the  plan  of  compromise  to 
which  she  had  alluded  in  her  reply  to  the  confederates.  When  concluded,  it 
was  sent  to  the  governors  of  the  several  provinces,  to  be  laid  before  their 
respective  legislatures.  Their  sanction,  it  was  hoped,  would  recommend  its 
adoption  to  the  people  at  large.  It  was  first  submitted  to  some  of  the  smaller 
states,  as  Artois,  Namur,  and  Luxemburg,  as  most  likely  to  prove  subservient 
to  the  wishes  of  the  government.  It  was  then  laid  before  several  of  the  larger 
states,  as  Brabant  and  Flanders,  whose  determination  might  be  influenced  t>y 
the  example  of  the  others.  Holland,  Zealand,  Utrecht,  and  one  or  two  other 
provinces,  where  the  spirit  of  independence  was  highest,  were  not  consulted  at 
all.  Yet  this  politic  management  did  not  entirely  succeed ;  and  although 
some  few  gave  an  unconditional  assent,  most  of  the  provinces  coupled  their 
acquiescence  with  limitations  that  rendered  it  of  little  worth  * 

This  was  not  extraordinary.  The  scheme  was  one  which,  however  large 
the  concessions  it  involved  on  the  pail  of  the  government,  fell  far  short  of 
those  demanded  by  the  people.  It  denounced  the  penalty  of  death  on  all 
ministers  and  teachers  of  the  reformed  religion,  and  an  who  narboured  them  ; 
and,  while  it  greatly  mitigated  the  punishment  of  other  offenders,  its  few 
sanguinary  features  led  the  people  sneeringly  to  call  it,  instead  of  "  modera- 
tion," the  act  of  "  murdtration."  *  It  fared,  indeed,  with  this  compromise  of 

•  "VtM  §1  mecum  in  hoc  preclaro  opore  non  content  us  admonnndoiurem  el  vellicawte, 

conBeutlti*,  agile,    et  qui    vestrum    calvain  nunc  quasi  cnmpedlbus  injertis,  ne  Infauwtum 

libertatem.  me  duce  volent.  pmpiiutum  hoc  lu  r  inKi?<1or<-tur,  attinen-t  pcdes."    Stradii, 

sibi    poculum,   benevolently   luo.r   gigninca-  De  Bello  Hrlgico,  torn.  i.  p.  235. 

tiixieiu  genfallter  arriplant,  iiique  maim*  in-  •  "  Lx-s  Beulrs  reponges  qu'il  alt  obtennpa 

dicio  ronte«teiitur."    Strada,  De  Belli)  Belgico,  de  S.   M  ,  xont  qu'vlle  y  pensera,  que  ces 

torn.  t.  p.  231.  aflairm    Hunt    de    grande    importance,  etc." 

"  "E*(Mig  mennes  peri«onnagps  pi  pruJes,  C'.rrespotidance  de  Philippe  II.,  turn.  I.  p.  426. 

dUcretn  et  tant  inihusd*  tout  ce  queco-i\  lent  '  Mcteren,  Hi*t.  d™   Pays-Has,  fol.  41.— 

fun'ii-trcr  a  V.  M.,  outre  1'alic- ti-m  qii-  j'ay  Hopper.  Kecuril  et  Memorial,  p.  7*. — Vamler 

toujourn  trouve  en  eux,  bint  ado*  m>z  1111    •  r-  llaer,  !><•  Initi  s  Tuniuliunni,  p.  216. 

vice  d'lolle."    Con erpond*uct  de  Marguerite  *  "Certe  moderation,  que  le  cOmun  peuple 

d'Autrich'-,  p.  21.  apell  It  mcurderatiou."     Mcteren,  lllst.  dcs 

'  "Credcres  id  al>  illius  acclcllme  gcnlo.  qui  I'HJ-H  Han,  fol.  41. 


252  FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP. 

the  regent  as  with  most  other  half-way  measures.  It  satisfied  neither  of  the 
parties  concerned  in  it.  The  king  thought  it  as  much  too  lenient  as  the 
people  thought  it  too  severe.  It  never  received  the  royal  sanction,  and  of 
course  never  became  a  law.  It  would  therefore  hardly  have  deserved  the  time 
I  have  bestowed  on  it,  except  as  evidence  of  the  conciliatory  spirit  of  the 
regent's  administration. 

In  the  same  spirit  Margaret  was  careful  to  urge  the  royal  officers  to  give  a 
liberal  interpretation  to  the  existing  edicts,  and  to  show  the  utmost  discretion 
in  their  execution.  These  functionaries  were  not  slow  in  obeying  commands 
which  released  them  from  so  much  of  the  odium  that  attached  to  their 
ungrateful  office.  The  amiable  temper  of  the  government  received  support 
from  a  singular  fraud  which  took  place  at  this  time.  An  instrument  was 
prepared  purporting  to  have  come  from  the  knights  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  in 
which  this  body  guaranteed  to  the  confederates  that  no  one  in  the  Low 
Countries  should  be  molested  on  account  of  his  religion  until  otherwise 
determined  by  the  king  and  the  states-general.  This  document,  which  carried 
its  spurious  origin  on  its  face,  was  nevertheless  eagerly  caught  up  and  circu- 
lated among  the  people,  ready  to  believe  what  they  most  desired.  In  vain  the 
regent,  as  soon  as  she  heard  of  it,  endeavoured  to  expose  the  fraud.  It  was 
too  late ;  and  the  influence  of  this  imposture  combined  with  the  tolerant 
measures  of  the  government  to  inspire  a  confidence  in  the  community  which 
was  soon  visible  in  its  results.  Some  who  had  gone  into  exile  returned  to  their 
country.  Many  who  had  cherished  the  new  doctrines  in  secret  openly  avowed 
them ;  while  others  who  were  wavering,  now  that  they  were  relieved  from  all 
fear  of  consequences,  became  fixed  in  their  opinions.  In  short,  the  Reforma- 
tion, in  some  form  or  other,  was  making  rapid  advances  over  the  country.7 

Of  the  three  great  sects  who  embraced  it,  the  Lutherans,  the  least  numerous, 
were  the  most  eminent  for  their  rank.  The  Anabaptists,  far  exceeding  them 
in  number,  were  drawn  almost  wholly  from  the  humbler  classes  of  the  people. 
It  is  singular  that  this  sect,  the  most  quiet  and  inoffensive  of  all,  should  have 
been  uniformly  dealt  with  by  the  law  with  peculiar  rigour.  It  may  perhaps 
be  attributed  to  the  bad  name  which  attached  to  them  from  the  excesses 
committed  by  their  brethren,  the  famous  Anabaptists  of  Miinster.  The  third 
denomination,  the  Calvinists,  far  outnumbered  both  of  the  other  two.  They 
were  also  the  most  active  in  the  spirit  of  proselytism.  They  were  stimulated 
by  missionaries  trained  in  the  schools  of  Geneva ;  and  as  their  doctrines  spread 
silently  over  the  land,  not  only  men  of  piety  and  learning,  but  persons  of  the 
highest  social  position,  were  occasionally  drawn  within  the  folds  of  the  sect. 

The  head-quarters  of  the  Calvinists  were  in  Flanders,  Hainault,  Artois,  and 
the  provinces  contiguous  to  France.  The  border-land  became  the  residence  of 
French  Huguenots,  and  of  banished  Flemings,  who  on  this  outpost  diligently 
laboured  in  the  cause  of  the  Reformation.  The  press  teemed  with  publica- 
tions,— vindications  of  the  faith,  polemical  tracts,  treatises,  and  satires  against 
the  Church  of  Rome  and  its  errors, — those  spiritual  missiles,  in  short,  which 
form  the  usual  magazine  for  controversial  warfare.  These  were  distributed  by 
means  of  peddlers  and  travelling  tinkers,  who  carried  them,  in  their  distant 
wanderings,  to  the  humblest  firesides  throughout  the  country.  There  they 
were  left  to  do  their  work  ;  and  the  ground  was  thus  prepared  for  the  labourers 
whose  advent  forms  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  the  Reformation.8 

'  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  pp.  233,  •  Vi'ndervynckt,  Troubles  des    Pays-Bas, 

234,  239. — Brandt,  Reformation   in  the  Ix>w  torn.   ii.   p.    150,   et  seq. — Strada.   De    Bello 

Countri- s,  vol.  i.  p  170.— See  the  forge.1  docu-  B  Igico,  torn.   i.   pp.  239,  240. — Conrspon- 

ment  me  tioned  in  the  text  in  the  Supple-  dance  <le  Marguerite  d' A utriche,  p.  127. 
ment  4  Strada,  torn.  ii.  p.  330. 


THE  PUBLIC  PREACHINGS.  253 

These  were  the  ministers  or  missionaries,  whose  public  preaching  soon 
caused  a  great  sensation  throughout  the  land.  They  first  made  their  appear- 
ance in  Western  Flanders,  before  small  audiences  gathered  together  stealthily 
in  the  gloom  of  the  forest  and  in  the  silence  of  night.  They  gradually 
emerged  into  the  open  plains,  thence  proceeding  to  the  villages,  until,  growing 
bolder  with  impunity,  they  showed  themselves  in  the  suburbs  of  the  great 
towns  and  cities.  On  these  occasions,  thousands  of  the  inhabitants,  men, 
women,  and  children,  in  too  great  force  for  the  magistrates  to  resist  them, 
poured  out  of  the  gates  to  hear  the  preacher.  In  the  centre  of  the  ground  a 
rude  staging  was  erected,  with  an  awning  to  protect  him  from  the  weather. 
Immediately  round  this  rude  pulpit  was  gathered  the  more  helpless  part  of  the 
congregation,  the  women  and  children.  Behind  them  stood  the  men, — those 
in  the  outer  circle  usually  furnished  with  arms, — swords,  pikes,  muskets? — 
any  weapon  they  could  pick  up,  for  the  occasion.  A  patrol  of  horse  occupied 
the  ground  beyond,  to  protect  the  assembly  and  prevent  interruption.  A 
barricade  of  wagons  ana  other  vehicles  was  thrown  across  the  avenues  that 
led  to  the  place,  to  defend  it  against  the  assaults  of  the  magistrates  or  the 
military.  Persons  stationed  along  the  high-roads  distributed  religious  tracts, 
and  invited  the  passengers  to  take  part  in  the  services.' 

The  preacher  was  frequently  some  converted  priest  or  friar,  accustomed  to 
speak  in  public,  who,  having  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  battling  for 
the  Church,  now  showed  equal  zeal  in  overturning  it.  It  might  be,  however, 
that  the  orator  was  a  layman, — some  peasant  or  artisan,  who,  gifted  with  more 
wit,  or  possibly  more  effrontery,  than  nis  neighbours,  felt  himself  called  on  to 
assume  the  perilous  vocation  of  a  preacher.  The  discourse  was  in  French  or 
Flemish,  whichever  might  be  the  language  spoken  in  the  neighbourhood.  It 
was  generally  of  the  nomely  texture  suited  both  to  the  speaker  and  his 
audience.  Yet  sometimes  he  descanted  on  the  woes  of  the  land  with  a  pathos 
which  drew  tears  from  every  eye,  and  at  others  gave  vent  to  a  torrent  of  fiery 
eloquence  that  kindled  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  martyr  in  the  bosoms  of  his 
hearers. 

These  lofty  flights  were  too  often  degraded  by  coarse  and  scurrilous  in- 
vectives against  the  pope,  the  clergy,  and  the  Inquisition, — themes  peculiarly 
grateful  to  his  audience,  who  testified  their  applause  by  as  noisy  demonstra- 
tions as  if  they  had  been  spectators  in  a  theatre.  The  service  wa's  followed  by 
singing  some  portion  of  the  Psalms  in  the  French  version  of  Marot,  or  in  a 
Dutch  translation  which  had  recently  appeared  in  Holland,10  and  which, 
although  sufficiently  rude,  passed  with  the  simple  people  for  a  wonderful  com- 
po-iition.  After  this,  it  was  common  for  those  who  attended  to  present  their 
infants  for  baptism  ;  and  many  couples  profited  by  the  occasion  to  have  the 
marriage-ceremony  performed  with  the  Calvinistic  rites.  The  exercises  were 
concluded  by  a  collection  for  the  poor  of  their  own  denomination.  In  fine, 
these  meetings,  notwithstanding  the  occasional  license  of  the  preacher,  seem 
to  have  been  conducted  with  a  seriousness  and  decorum  which  hardly  merit 
the  obloquy  thrown  on  them  by  some  of  the  Catholic  writers. 

The  congregation,  it  is  true,  was  made  up  of  rather  motley  materials.  Some 
went  out  merely  to  learn  what  manner  of  doctrine  it  was  that  was  taught ; 
others,  to  hear  the  singing,  where  thousands  of  voices  blended  together  in 
rude  harmony  under  the  canopy  of  heaven ;  others,  again,  with  no  better 

•  Languet,  Eptrt.  seer.,  quoted  by  Groen,  Low  Countries  torn.  L  p.  ITi 

Archives  de  la  Malson  d'Oraiigp-N&iwau,  torn.  '•  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Coun- 

II.  p.  180.— See  aUo  Strada.  Ite  Brllo  Belgtco,  tries,  ubi  supra. 
torn.  I    p.  341. — Brandt,  Reformation  in  the 


254  FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP. 

motive  than  amusement,  to  laugh  at  the  oddity — perhaps  the  buffoonery — of 
the  preacher.  But  far  the  larger  portion  of  the  audience  went  with  the  pur- 
pose of  joining  in  the  religious  exercises  and  worshipping  God  in  their  own 
way.11  We  may  imagine  what  an  influence  must  have  been  exercised  by  these 
meetings,  where  so  many  were  gathered  together,  under  a  sense  of  common 
danger,  to  listen  to  the  words  of  the  teacher,  who  taught  them  to  hold  all 
human  law  as  light  in  comparison  with  the  higher  law  of  conscience  seated  in 
their  own  bosoms.  Even  of  those  who  came  to  scoff,  few  there  were,  probably, 
who  did  not  go  away  with  some  food  for  meditation,  or,  it  may  be,  the  seeds 
of  future  conversion  implanted  in  their  breasts. 

The  first  of  these  puolic  preachings — which  began  as  early  as  May — took 
place  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Ghent.  Between  six  and  seven  thousand 
persons  were  assembled.  A  magistrate  of  the  city,  with  more  valour  than 
discretion,  mounted  his  horse,  and.  armed  with  sword  and  pistol,  rode  in 
among  the  multitude  and  undertook  to  arrest  the  minister.  But  the  people 
hastened  to  his  rescue,  and  dealt  so  roughly  with  the  unfortunate  officer  that 
he  barely  escaped  with  life  from  their  hands.12 

From  Ghent  the  preaching  extended  to  Ypres,  Bruges,  and  other  great 
towns  of  Flanders,  —always  in  the  suburbs, — to  Valenciennes,  and  to  Tournay, 
in  the  province  of  Hainault,  where  the  Reformers  were  strong  enough  to 
demand  a  place  of  worship  within  the  walls.  Holland  was  ready  for  the  Word- 
Ministers  of  the  new  religion^  as  it  was  called,  were  sent  both  to  that  quarter 
and  to  Zealand.  Gatherings  of  great  multitudes  were  held  in  the  environs  of 
Amsterdam,  the  Hague,  Haarlem,  and  other  large  towns,  at  which  the  magis- 
trates were  sometimes  to  be  found  mingled  with  the  rest  of  the  burghers. 

But  the  place  where  these  meetings  were  conducted  on  the  greatest  scale 
was  Antwerp,  a  city  containing  then  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  inhabi- 
tants, and  the  most  important  mart  for  commerce  in  the  Netherlands.  It  was 
the  great  resort  of  foreigners. .  Many  of  these  were  Huguenots,  who,  under 
the  pretext  of  trade,  were  much  more  busy  with  the  concerns  of  their  religion. 
At  the  meetings  without  the  walls  it  was  not  uncommon  for  thirteen  or  four- 
teen thousand  persons  to  assemble.13  Resistance  on  the  part  of  the  magistrates 
was  ineffectual.  The  mob  got  possession  of  the  keys  of  the  city  ;  and,  as  most 
of  the  Calvinists  were  armed,  they  constituted  a  formidable  force.  Conscious 
of  their  strength,  they  openly  escorted  their  ministers  back  to  the  town,  and 
loudly  demanded  that  some  place  of  worship  should  be  appropriated  to  them 
within  the  walls  of  Antwerp.  The  quiet  burghers  became  alarmed.  As  it 
was  known  that  in  the  camp  of  the  Reformers  were  many  reckless  and  dis- 
orderly persons,  they  feared  the  town  might  be  given  over  to  pillage.  All 
trade  ceased.  Many  of  the  merchants  secreted  their  effects,  and  some  pre- 
pared to  make  their  escape  as  speedily  as  possible.14 

The  magistrates,  in  great  confusion,  applied  to  the  regent,  and  besought  her 

11  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Coun-  torn.  i.  p.  433. — A  Confession  of  Faith,  which 

tries,  torn.  i.  p.  173.  appeared  in  1563,  was  revised  by  a  Oalvinistic 

"  Ibid.,  p.  171.  synod,  and  reprinted  at  Antwerp,  in  May  of 

•"  "Se  y  sont  le  dimanche  dernier  encoires  the  present  ye«r,  15h6.  The  prefatory  letter 
faict  deux  presches,  1'une  en  fransois,  1'autre  addressed  to  King  Philip,  in  which  the  Re- 
en  flamand,  en  plein  jour,  et  estoient  ces  formers  appealed  to  their  creed  and  to  their 
deux  assemblies  de  13  a  14  mille  personnes."  general  conduct  as  affording  the  best  refuta- 
Correspondance  de  Marguerite  d'Autriche,  p.  lion  of  the  calumnies  of  their  enemies,  b  Idly 
65.  asserted  that  their  number  in  the  Nether- 

"  Correspondance    de    Marguerite    d'Au-  lands  at  that  time  was  at  least  a  hundred 

•trfche.  pp.  80-H8. — Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  thousand.    Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low 

torn.  i.  p.  ?43. — Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Bas,  Countries,  vol.  i.  p.  158. 
fol.    42.  —  Corrcspondance  de  Philippe  1L, 


THE  PUBLIC  PREACHINGS.  255 

to  transfer  her  residence  to  Antwerp,  where  her  presence  might  overawe  the 
spirit  of  sedition.  But  Margaret's  council  objected  to  her  placing  herself  hi 
the  hands  of  so  factious  a  population  ;  and  she  answered  the  magistrates  by 
inquiring  what  guarantee  they  could  give  her  for  her  personal  safety.  They 
then  requested  that  the  prince  of  Orange,  who  held  the  office  of  burgrave  of 
Antwerp,  and  whose  influence  with  the  people  was  unbounded,  might  be  sent 
to  them.  Margaret  hesitated  as  to  this  ;  for  she  had  now  learned  to  regard 
William  with  distrust,  as  assuming  more  and  more  an  unfriendly  attitude 
towards  her  brother.1*  But  she  had  no  alternative,  and  she  requested  him  to 
transfer  his  residence  to  the  disorderly  capital  and  endeavour  to  restore  it  to 
tranquillity.  The  prince,  on  the  other  hand,  disgusted  with  the  course  of 
public  affairs,  had  long  wished  to  withdraw  from  any  share  in  their  manage- 
ment. It  was  with  reluctance  he  accepted  the  commission. 

As  he  drew  near  to  Antwerp,  the  people  flocked  out  by  thousands  to  welcome 
him.  It  would  seem  as  if  they  hailed  him  as  their  deliverer;  and  every 
window,  veranda,  and  roof  was  crowded  with  spectators,  as  he  rode  through 
the  gates  of  the  capital."  The  people  ran  up  and  down  the  streets,  singing 
psalms,  or  shouting,  "  Vivent  les  Gueiucf"  while  they  thronged  round  the 
prince's  horse  in  so  dense  a  mass  that  it  was  scarcely  possible  for  him  to  force 
a  passage."  Yet  these  demonstrations  of  his  popularity  were  not  altogether 
satisfactory  ;  and  he  felt  no  pleasure  at  being  thus  welcomed  as  a  chief  of  the 
leagiie,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  he  was  far  from  regarding  with  approbation. 
Waving  his  hand  repeatedly  to  those  around  him,  he  called  on  them  to  dis- 
perse, impatiently  exclaiming,  "  Take  heed  what  you  do,  or,  by  Heaven,  you 
will  have  reason  to  rue  it."  '*  He  rode  straight  to  the  hall  where  the  magis- 
trates were  sitting,  and  took  counsel  with  them  as  to  the  best  means  of  allay- 
ing the  popular  excitement,  and  of  preventing  the  wealthy  burghers  from 
quitting  the  city.  During  the  few  weeks  he  remained  there,  the  prince  con- 
ducted affairs  so  discreetly  as  to  bring  about  a  better  understanding  between 
the  authorities  and  the  citizens.  He  even  prevailed  on  the  Calvimsts  to  lay 
aside  their  arms.  He  found  more  difficulty  in  persuading  them  to  relinquish 
the  design  of  appropriating  to  themselves  some  place  of  worship  within  the 
walls.  It  was  not  till  William  called  in  the  aid  of  the  military  to  support  him 
that  he  compelled  them  to  yield." 

Thus  the  spirit  of  reform  was  rapidly  advancing  in  every  part  of  the  country, 
— even  in  presence  of  the  court,  under  the  very  eye  of  the  regent.  In  Brussels 
the  people  went  through  the  streets  by  night,  singing  psalms,  and  shouting 
the  war-cry  of  Viveiit  les  GueiLx!  The  merchants  and  wealthy  burghers 
were  to  be  seen  with  the  insignia  of  the  confederates  on  their  dress.20  Prepa- 
rations were  made  for  a  public  preaching  without  the  walls  ;  but  the  duchess 
at  once  declared  tliat  in  that  event  she  would  make  one  of  the  company  at 

"  "Lft  Duqnesft,  yft  dnnaslado  informnda  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  I.  p.  244. 
de  1ft*  plaiic.m  incllnarlones  y  ilioimulftclone*  '*  For  the  account  of  the  proceedings  at 

de  rule  Principe,  defirio  i  rc»olvt:n»e  en  ello."  Antwerp,  nee  Corrrspondance  de  Guillaume 

Renora  do   Krancia,   Alborotos   de    Flandes,  le  Tacit  unie,  turn.  li.   pp.   136,   138,   11".  et 

cap.  15.  MS.  seq.— vStrada,  I>e   Hello   ffc'Igico,  torn.  1.  pp. 

"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  1.  p.  2«4.  244-24*.— Meteren,  Hist.  de»   Pays-Han,  fol. 

°  '"  A  ni'.li  of  no  lens  than  thirty  thousand  42. — Hopper,  Reciiell  et   Memorial,  pp.  90, 

men,  according  to  William'*  own  statement:  91.— Brandt,  Reformation  In  the  Low  Coun- 

"A   mon  oetnblant,  trouvln,  tant   hors  qu«  tries,  vul.  1.  pp.  173-176.— Renoni  de  Krancia, 

dedans  la  vllle.  plus  de  trente  mil  homines."  Alborotoa  d<*  H.iml-  s,  MS. 
Correnpondanou  de  Guillaume  dc  Tacltume,  "  "  Insignia  etlam  a  mercatoribus  urarpari 

torn.  II.  p.  136.  ccepta."    Strada,  be  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  I.  p. 

"  "  Vitlerent,  per  Deum,  quid  agerent :  ne,  238. 
si  pergeniit,  cusallquandopeeniteret."  Strada, 


256  FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP. 

the  head  of  her  guard,  seize  the  preacher,  and  hang  him  up  at  the  gates  of  the 
city  ! 2I  This  menace  had  the  desired  effect. 

During  these  troublous  times,  Margaret,  however  little  she  may  have  accom- 
plished, could  not  be  accused  of  sleeping  on  her  post.  She  caused  fasts  to  be 
observed,  and  prayers  to  be  offered  in  all  the  churches,  to  avert  the  wrath  of 
Heaven  from  the  land.  She  did  not  confine  herself  to  these  spiritual  weapons, 
but  called  on  the  magistrates  of  the  towns  to  do  their  duty,  and  on  all  good 
citizens  to  support  them.  She  commanded  foreigners  to  leave  Antwerp,  except 
those  only  who  were  there  for  traffic.  She  caused  placards  to  be  everywhere 
posted  up,  reciting  the  terrible  penalties  of  the  law  against  heretical  teachers 
and  those  who  abetted  them  ;  and  she  offered  a  reward  of  six  hundred  florins 
to  whoever  should  bring  any  such  offender  to  punishment."  She  strengthened 
the  garrisoned  towns,  and  would  have  levied  a  force  to  overawe  the  refractory  ; 
but  she  had  not  the  funds  to  pay  for  it.  She  endeavoured  to  provide  these  by 
means  of  loans  from  the  great  clergy  and  the  principal  towns ;  but  with  in- 
different success.  Most  of  them  were  already  creditors  of  the  government, 
and  they  liked  the  security  too  little  to  make  further  advances.  In  her  ex- 
tremity, Margaret  had  no  resource  but  the  one  so  often  tried,— that  of  invoking 
the  aid  of  her  brother.  "  I  have  no  refuge,"  she  wrote,  "  but  in  God  and  your 
majesty,  it  is  with  anguish  and  dismay  I  must  admit  that  my  efforts  have 
wholly  failed  to  prevent  the  public  preaching,  which  has  spread  over  every 
quarter  of  the  country." 2t  She  bitterly  complains,  in  another  letter,  that 
after  "  so  many  pressing  applications,  she  should  be  thus  left,  without  aid  and 
without  instructions,  to  grope  her  way  at  random." 24  She  again  beseeches 
Philip  to  make  the  concessions  demanded,  in  which  event  the  great  lords 
assure  her  of  their  support  in  restoring  order. 

It  was  the  policy  of  the  cabinet  of  Madrid  not  to  commit  itself.  The  royal 
answers  were  brief,  vague,  never  indicating  a  new  measure,  generally  inti- 
mating satisfaction  with  the  conduct  of  the  regent,  and  throwing  as  far  as 
possible  all  responsibility  on  her  shou'ders. 

But,  besides  his  sister's  letters,  the  king  was  careful  to  provide  himself 
with  other  sources  of  information  respecting  the  state  of  the  Netherlands. 
From  some  of  these  the  accounts  he  received  of  the  conduct  of  the  great  lords 
were  even  less  favourable  than  hers.  A  letter  from  the  secretary,  Armenteros, 
speaks  of  the  difficulty  he  finds  in  fathoming  the  designs  of  the  prince  of 
Orange, — a  circumstance  which  he  attributes  to  his  probable  change  of  religion. 
"  He  relies  much,"  says  the  writer,  "on  the  support  he  receives  in  Germany, 
on  his  numerous  friends  at  home,  and  on  the  general  distrust  entertained  of 
the  king.  The  prince  is  making  preparations  in  good  season,"  he  concludes, 
"  for  defending  himself  against  your  majesty."  K 

al  "  Us  auraient  preche  hors  de  Bruxelles,  slant  tous  les  debvoirs  que  je  fais  journelle- 

si  Madame  n'y  avail  pourvu,  allant  jusqu'a  ment,  .  .  .  je  ne  puis  remedier  ny  empescher 

dire  qu'avec  sa  personne,   s,i    maison  et  ft,  les    assemblies    des    prescbes    publicques." 

garde,  elle  s'y  opposerait,  et  ferait  pendre  en  Correspondance  de  Marguerite  d'Autriche,  p. 

sa  presence  les  ministres."    Corre-pondance  72. 

de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  447.  •*  "  Sans  aide  et  sans  ordres,  de  maniere 

m  "So  p  na  de  proceder  contra  los  Predi-  que,  dans  t»ut  ce  qu'elle  fait,  elle  doit  aller 

cadores  ministros  y  semejantes  con  tl  ultimo  en  tatonnant  et  au  hasard."    Correspondance 

suplicio  y  confiscation  de  hacienda  por  apli-  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  428. 

carlo  al  provecho  de  los  que  bavian  la  apre-  "  "Le  prince  se  prepare  de  longue  main  & 

hension  de  ellos  y  por  falta  de  hacienda,  su  la  defense  qu'il  sera  force  de  faire  con're  le 

maeestad  mandara  librar  del  suyo  seiscientos  Roi."    Ibid.,  p.  431. — It  was  natural  that  the 

florines."     Henom  de  Franc  ia,  Alborotos  de  relations  of  William  with  the  party  of  reform 

Flandeg,  MS.  should  have  led  to  the  persuasion  that  he  had 

"  "  Je  suis  forcee  avecq  doulenr  et  an-  returned  to  the  opinions  in  which  he  bad 

goisse  d'esprit  lui  dire  de  rechief  que  nonob-  been  cany  educated.    These  were  Lutheran. 


MEETING  AT  ST.  TROND.  257 

Yet  Philip  did  not  betray  any  consciousness  of  this  unfriendly  temper  in 
the  nobles.  To  the  prince  of  Orange,  in  particular,  he  wrote,  "You  err  in 
imagining  tliat  I  have  not  entire  confidence  in  you,  Shcnild  any  one  seek  to 
do  you  an  ill  office  with  me,  I  should  not  be  so  light  as  to  give  ear  to  him, 
having  had  so  large  experience  of  your  loyalty  and  your  services."  M  "  This 
is  not  the  time,"  he  adds,  "for  men  like  you  to  withdraw  from  public  affairs." 
But  William  was  the  last  man  to  be  duped  by  these  fair  words.  When  others 
inveighed  against  the  conduct  of  the  regent,  \Villiam  excused  her  by  throwing 
the  blame  on  Philip.  "Resolved  to  deceive  all,"  he  said,  "he  begins  by 
deceiving  his  sister."  " 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  July  that  an  event  occurred  which  caused  still 
greater  confusion  in  the  affairs  of  the  Netherlands.  This  was  a  meeting  of 
the  confederates  at  St.  Trond,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Liege.  They  assembled, 
two  thousand  in  number,  with  Count  Louis  and  Brederode  at  their  head. 
Their  great  object  was  to  devise  some  means  for  their  personal  security. 
They  were  aware  that  they  were  held  responsible,  to  some  extent,  for  the  late 
religious  movements  among  the  people.2*  They  were  discontented  with  the 
prolonged  silence  of  the  king,  and  they  were  alarmed  by  rumours  of  military 
preparations,  said  to  be  designed  against  them.  The  discussions  of  the 
assembly,  long  and  animated,  showed  some  difference  of  opinion.  All  agreed 
to  demand  some  guarantee  from  the  government  for  their  security.  But  the 
greater  part  of  the  body,  no  longer  halting  at  the  original  limits  of  their 
petition,  were  now  for  demanding  absolute  toleration  in  matters  of  religion. 
kSorne  few  of  the  number,  stanch  Catholics  at  heart,  who  for  the  first  time 
seem  to  have  had  their  eyes  opened  to  the  results  to  which  they  were  inevitably 
tending,  now,  greatly  disgusted,  withdrew  from  the  league.  Among  these  was 
the  younger  'Jount  Mansfeldt, — a  name  destined  to  become  famous  in  the 
annals  of  the  revolution. 

Margaret,  much  alarmed  by  these  new  demonstrations,  sent  Orange  and 
Egmont  to  confer  with  the  confederates  and  demand  why  they  were  thus  met 
in  an  unfriendly  attitude  towards  the  government  which  they  had  so  lately 
pledged  themselves  to  support  in  maintaining  order.  The  confederates 
replied  by  sending  a  deputation  of  their  body  to  submit  their  grievances  anew 
to  the  regent 

The  deputies,  twelve  in  number,  and  profanely  nicknamed  at  Brussels  "  the 
twelve  apostles,"  **  presented  themselves,  with  Count  Louis  at  their  head,  on 
the  twenty-eighth  of  July,  at  the  capital.  Margaret,  who  with  difficulty 
consented  to  receive  them  in  person,  gave  unequivocal  signs  of  her  displeasure. 
In  the  plain  language  of  Louis,  "  the  regent  was  ready  to  burst  with  anger."  *• 

There  Is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  at  the  "  "  Que  le  rol,  resold  dc  les  tromper  tons, 

|>rewnt  time  he  had  espoused  the  doctrines  commoncaii  par  tromper  sa  sceur."     Vander- 

of  Calvin.     The   intimation  of   Annenteroa  vynckt,  Troubles  dew  Pays-Has  torn.  II.  p.  148. 

respecting  the    prince's  change  of   religion  •"  This  responsibility  is  bluntly  charged 

•eenis  to  liave  made  a  strong  impression  on  on  them  by  Kenom  de  Francia :  "  El  dia  <le 

Philip.     On  the  margin  of  the  letter  he  wrote  las  predicaciones  oraciones  y  cantos  estando 

against  the  passage,  ••  No  one  bus  said  thi<  no  conccrtado,  se  acord6  con  las  principals  villas 

unequivocally   before," — "No   lo   ha  escrito  que  fuese  el  San  Juan  siguiente  y  de  contl- 

nadle  a*i  claro."  nuar  en  adelante,  primero  en  los  Bonques  y 

'•  "  Vos  o«  enpaftartadefl  mtv-ho  en  penaar  montafias,  despues  en  los  arrabale.s  y  A  Ideas 

que  yo  no  tul>i>-se  toda  conflanza  de  von.  y  y  purs  en  las  villas,  por  medida  que  el  nu- 

quarulo  hubiese  alguno  ouerido  hazer  oflcio  mcro,   la   audacU   y  sufrlmiento    creciese." 

con   mlgo  en  contrario  a  esto,   no  soy  tan  Alborotos  de  Flandes,  MS. 

lirlano  qne  bubiese  dado  credito  A  clio.  te-  "  "Qui   vulgar!   Joco   duodeclm   Apontoli 

nirnclo  yo  tanta  esperiencia  de  vupstra  lealtad  die  bantiir."    atrada,  De  Bello  Uelgtco,  turn. 

y  !!••  vti'-stros  wrvicios."    Correspondance  do  I.  p.  34*. 

iiui.Uumc  leTaciturne,  torn.  U.  p.  171.  *•  "S'tst  mlse  «n  unc  tcllc  colorp  contrc 


258  FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP. 

The  memorial,  or  rather  remonstrance,  presented  to  her  was  not  calculated  to 
allay  it. 

Without  going  into  details,  it  is  only  necessary  to  say  that  the  confederates, 
after  stating  their  grounds  for  apprehension,  requested  that  an  assurance 
should  be  given  by  the  government  that  no  harm  was  intended  them.  As  to 
pardon  for  the  past,  they  disclaimed  all  desire  for  it.  What  they  had  done 
called  for  applause,  not  condemnation.  They  only  trusted  that  his  majesty 
would  be  pleased  to  grant  a  convocation  of  the  states-general,  to  settle  the 
affairs  of  the  country.  In  the  mean  time,  they  besought  him  to  allow  the 
concerns  of  the  confederates  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  prince  of  Orange, 
and  the  Counts  Egmont  and  Hoorne,  to  act  as  their  mediators  with  the  crown, 
promising  in  all  things  to  be  guided  by  their  counsel.  Thus  would  tranquillity 
be  restored.  But  without  some  guarantee  for  their  safety,  they  should  be 
obliged  to  protect  themselves  by  foreign  aid.31 

The  haughty  tone  of  this  memorial  forms  a  striking  contrast  with  that  of 
the  petition  presented  by  the  same  body  not  four  months  before,  and  shows 
with  what  rapid  strides  the  revolution  had  advanced.  The  religious  agitations 
had  revealed  the  amount  of  discontent  in  the  country,  and  to  what  extent, 
therefore,  the  confederates  might  rely  on  the  sympathy  of  the  people.  This 
was  most  unequivocally  proved  during  the  meeting  at  St.  Trond,  where  me- 
morials were  presented  by  the  merchants,  and  by  persons  of  the  Reformed 
religion,  praying  the  protection  of  the  league  to  secure  them  freedom  of  worship 
till  otherwise  determined  by  the  states-general.  This  extraordinary  request 
was  granted.32  Thus  the  two  great  parties  leaned  on  each  other  for  support, 
and  gave  mutual  confidence  to  their  respective  movements.  The  confederates, 
discarding  the  idea  of  grace,  which  they  had  once  solicited,  now  darkly  inti- 
mated a  possible  appeal  to  arms.  The  Reformers,  on  their  side,  instead  of  the 
mitigation  of  penalties,  now  talked  of  nothing  less  than  absolute  toleration. 
Thus  political  revolution  and  religious  reform  went  hand  in  hand  together. 
The  nobles  and  the  commons,  the  two  most  opposite  elements  of  the  body 
politic,  were  united  closely  by  a  common  interest ;  and  a  formidable  opposition 
was  organized  to  the  designs  of  the  monarch,  which  might  have  made  any 
monarch  tremble  on  his  throne. 

An  important  fact  shows  that  the  confederates  coolly  looked  forward,  even 
at  this  time,  to  a  conflict  with  Spain.  Louis  of  Nassau  had  a  large  corre- 
spondence with  the  leaders  of  the  Huguenots  in  France  and  of  the  Lutherans 
in  Germany.  By  the  former  he  had  been  offered  substantial  aid  in  the  way 
of  troops.  But  the  national  jealousy  entertained  of  the  French  would  have 
made  it  impolitic  to  accept  it.  He  turned  therefore  to  Germany,  where  he 
had  numerous  connections,  and  where  he  subsidized  a  force  consisting  of  four 
thousand  horse  and  forty  companies  of  foot,  to  be  at  the  disposal  of  the 
league.  This  negotiation  was  conducted  under  the  eye,  and,  as  it  seems, 
partly  through  the  agency,  of  his  brother  William.3*  From  this  moment, 
therefore,  if  not  before,  the  prince  of  Orange  may  be  identified  with  the  party 
who  were  prepared  to  maintain  their  rights  by  an  appeal  to  arms. 

These  movements  of  the  league  could  not  be  kept  so  close  but  that  they 
came  to  the  knowledge  of  Margaret.  Indeed,  she  had  her  secret  agents  at  St. 

nous,  qu'elle  a  pense  crever."  Archives  de  Groen,  Archives  de  la  Malson  d'Orange- 

la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  ii.  p.  178.  Nassau,  torn.  it.  pp.  159-167. 

11  "  Alioqui  externa  remedia  qnamvis  in-  "  See  the  letter  of  Louis  to  his  brother 

vltos  poetremfc  quaesituros."  Strada,  De  Hello  dated  July  26th,  1566,  Archives  de  la  Maison 

Beleiro,  torn.  I.  p.  248.  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  ii.  p.  178. 

"  The  memorials  ar^  given  at  length  by 


MEETING  AT  ST.  TROND.  259 

Trond,  who  put  her  in  possession  of  whatever  was  done,  or  even  designed,  by 
the  Confederates.31  This  was  fully  exhibited  in  her  correspondence  with 
Philip,  while  she  again  called  his  attention  to  the  forlorn  condition  of  the 
government,  without  men,  or  money,  or  the  means  to  raise  it.*s  "  The  sectaries 
go  armed,"  she  writes,  "  and  are  organizing  their  forces.  The  league  is  with 
them.  There  remains  nothing  but  that  they  should  band  together  and  sack 
the  towns,  villages,  and  churches,  of  which  I  am  in  marvellous  great  fear."  *• 
Her  fears  had  gifted  her  with  the  spirit  of  prophecy.  She  implores  her 
brother,  if  he  will  not  come  himself  to  Flanders,  to  convoke  the  states-general, 
quoting:  the  words  of  Egmont,  that,  unless  summoned  by  the  king,  they  would 
assemble  of  themselves,  to  devise  some  remedy  for  the  miseries  of  the  land 
and  prevent  its  otherwise  inevitable  ruin.*7  At  length  came  back  the  royal 
answer  to  Margaret's  reiterated  appeals.  It  had  at  least  one  merit,  that  of 
being  perfectly  explicit. 

Montigny,  on  reaching  Madrid,  as  we  have  seen,  had  ready  access  to  Philip. 
Both  he  and  his  companion,  the  marquis  of  Bergen,  were  allowed  to  witness, 
it  would  seem,  the  deliberations  of  the  council  of  state  when  the  subject  of 
their  mission  was  discussed.  Among  the  members  of  that  body,  at  this  time, 
may  be  noticed  the  duke  of  Alva  ;  Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva,  prince  of  Eboli,  who 
divided  with  Alva  the  royal  favour  ;  Figueroa,  count  of  Feria,  a  man  of  an 
acute  and  penetrating  intellect,  formerly  ambassador  to  England,  in  Queen 
Mary's  time ;  and  Luis  de  Quixada,  the  major-domo  of  Charles  the  Fifth. 
Besides  these  there  were  two  or  three  councillors  from  the  Netherlands,  among 
whose  names  we  meet  with  that  of  Hopper,  the  near  friend  and  associate  of 
Viglius.  There  was  great  unanimity  in  the  opinions  of  this  loyal  body,  where 
none,  it  will  be  readily  believed,  was  disposed  to  lift  his  voice  in  favour  of 
reform.  The  course  of  events  in  the  Netherlands,  they  agreed,  plainly  showed 
a  deliberate  and  well-concerted  scheme  of  the  great  nobles  to  secure  to  them- 
selves the  whole  power  of  the  country.  The  first  step  was  the  removal  of 
Granvelle,  a  formidable  obstacle  in  their  path.  Then  came  the  attempt  to 
concentrate  the  management  of  affairs  in  the  hands  of  the  council  of  state. 
This  was  followed  by  assaults  on  the  Inquisition  and  the  edicts,  as  the  things 
most  obnoxious  to  the  people  ;  by  the  cry  in  favour  of  the  states-general ;  by 
the  league,  the  Compromise,  the  petitions,  the  religious  assemblies ;  ana, 
finally,  by  the  present  mission  to  Spain.  All  was  devised  by  the  great  nobles 
as  part  of  a  regular  system  of  hostility  to  the  crown,  the  real  object  of  which 
was  to  overturn  existing  institutions  and  to  build  up  their  own  authority  on 
the  ruins.  While  the  council  regarded  these  proceedings  with  the  deepest 
indignation,  they  admitted  the  necessity  of  bending  to  the  storm,  and  under 
present  circumstances  judged  it  prudent  for  the  monarch  to  make  certain 
specified  concessions  to  the  people  of  the  Netherlands.  Above  all,  they 
earnestly  besought  Philip,  if  he  would  still  remain  master  of  this  portion  of 
his  empire,  to  defer  no  longer  his  visit  to  the  country." 

"  The   person  who  seems  to  hive  princi-  Anarchy  could  not  be  better  described  in  to 

pally  served  her  in  this  respectable  office  was  few  words. 

m  "doctor  of  law,"  one  of  the  chief  counsel-  **  "II  ne  reBte  plus  sfnon  qu'ils  s'assem- 

lors  of  the  confederates.    Count  Megen,  her  blent  el  que,  Joincts  ensemble,  ils  se  livrent 

agent  on  the  occasion,  bribed  the  doctor  by  a  fairo  quelque  sac  d'eglires,  villes,  bourgx, 

the  promise  of  a  seat  in  the  council  of  Bra-  ou  pais,  de  quoy  je  suis  en  nierveilleusement 

bant.    Correspondence  de  Philippe  II..  torn.  grande  crainte.      Ibid.,  p.  121. 

i.  p.  435.  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

•"  "  I/e  tont  est  en  tclle  dennnlre,"  she  says  p.  432. 

in  one  of  her  letters,  "  quo,  en  la  plu*part  du  J"  The  fullest  account  of  the  doings  of  the 

pais.  Ton  e>t  tans  toy.  foy,  ni  liny."    Corre-  council  is  given  by  Hopper,  one  of  Its  meni- 

tpoDdance  de  Morgumltc  d'Autricke,  p.  91. —  bers.     Itccueil  et  Memorial,  pp.  »l-«7. 


260  FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP. 

The  discussions  occupied  many  and  long-protracted  sittings  of  the  council ; 
and  Philip  deeply  pondered,  in  his  own  closet,  on  the  results,  after  the  discus- 
sions were  concluded.  Even  those  most  familiar  with  his  habits  were  amazed 
at  the  long  delay  of  his  decision  in  the  present  critical  circumstances.*9  The 
haughty  mind  of  the  monarch  found  it  difficult  to  bend  to  the  required  conces- 
sions. At  length  his  answer  came. 

The  letter  containing  it  was  addressed  to  his  sister,  and  was  dated  on  the 
thirty-first  of  July,  1566,  at  the  Wood  of  Segovia, — the  same  place  from  which 
he  had  dictated  his  memorable  despatches  the  year  preceding.  Philip  began, 
as  usual,  with  expressing  his  sin-prise  at  the  continued  troubles  of  the  country. 
He  was  not  aware  that  any  rigorous  procedure  could  be  charged  on  the  tribu- 
nals, or  that  any  change  had  been  made  in  the  laws  since  the  days  of  Charles 
the  Fifth.  Still,  as  it  was  much  more  agreeable  to  his  nature  to  proceed  with 
clemency  and  love  than  with  severity,40  he  would  conform  as  far  as  possible  to 
the  desires  of  his  vassals. 

He  was  content  that  the  Inquisition  should  be  abolished  in  the  Netherlands, 
and  in  its  place  be  substituted  the  inquisitorial  powers  vested  in  the  bishops. 
As  to  the  edicts,  he  was  not  pleased  with  the  plan  of  Moderation  devised  by 
Margaret ;  nor  did  he  believe  that  any  plan  would  satisfy  the  people  short  of 
perfect  toleration.  Still,  he  would  have  his  sister  prepare  another  scheme, 
having  due  reference  to  the  maintenance  of  the  Catholic  faith  and  his  own 
authority.  This  must  be  submitted  to  him,  and  he  would  do  all  that  he 
possibly 'could  in  the  matter.41  Lastly,  in  respect  to  a  general  pardon,  as  he 
abhorred  rigour  where  any  other  course  would  answer  tne  end,42  he  was  con- 
tent that  it  should  be  extended  to  whomever  Margaret  thought  deserving  of 
it, — always  excepting  those  already  condemned,  and  under  a  solemn  pledge, 
moreover,  that  the  nobles  would  abandon  the  league  and  henceforth  give  their 
hearty  support  to  the  government. 

Four  days  after  the  date  of  these  despatches,  on  the  second  of  August, 
Philip  again  wrote  to  his  sister,  touching  the  summoning  of  the  states-general, 
which  she  had  so  much  pressed.  He  had  given  the  subject,  he  said,  a  most 
patient  consideration,  and  was  satisfied  that  she  had  done  right  in  refusing  to 
call  them  together.  She  must  not  consent  to  it.  He  never  would  consent  to 
it.4*  He  knew  too  well  to  what  it  must  inevitably  lead.  Yet  he  would  not 
have  her  report  his  decision  in  the  absolute  and  peremptory  terms  in  which  he 
had  given  it  to  her,  but  as  intended  merely  for  the  present  occasion ;  so 
that  the  people  might  believe  she  was  still  looking  for  something  of  a  dif- 
ferent tenor,  and  cherish  the  hope  of  obtaining  their  object  at  some  future 
day ! 44 

The  king  also  wrote  that  .he  should  remit  a  sufficient  sum  to  Margaret  to 
enable  her  to  take  into  her  pay  a  body  of  ten  thousand  German  foot  and  three 
thousand  horse,  on  which  sne  could  rely  in  case  of  extremity.  He  further 

"  "  Ceux  du  conseil  d'fitat  sent  etonnes  du  la  saincte  foy  catholique  et  mon  authority 

delai  que  le  Roi  met  a  repondre."     Montigny  soyent  gardees  .  .  .  et  y  feray  tout  ce  que 

to   Margaret,  July  21st,  Correspondance  de  possible  sera."    Ibid.,  p.  103. 

I'hilippe  II.,  torn.  1.  p.  434.  "  "  N'abborrissant  riens  tant  que  la  voye 

•">  "  I'our  1'incli nation   natnrelle  que  j'ay  de  rigeur."     Ibid.,  ubi  supra, 

toujonrs  eu  de  traicter  HIPS  vassaulx  et  sub-  "  "  Y  assf  vos  no  lo  consentais,  ni  yo  lo 

jerts  plus  par  voye  d'amour  et  clemence,  qne  consentire    tan    poco."     Correspoudance   de 

de  crainte  et  de  rigeur,  je  me  suis  accommode  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  439. 

a  tout  ce  que  m'a  este   possible. "     Corre-  "  "  Pero  no  conviene  que  esto  se  entienda 

spondancede  Marguerite  d'  A utriche,  p.  100.  alliC,  ni  que  vos  teneis  esta  orden  mia,  sino 

41  "Ay  treuve'  convenir  et  necessaire  que  es  para-  lo  de  agora,  pero  que  la  esperais  para 

1'on  congoive  certaine  aultre  forme  d'>  mode-  adelante,  no  desesperando  cllos  para  entonces 

ration  de  placcart  par  dela,  ayant  egaid  que  dellu."    Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 


PHILIP'S  CONCESSIONS.  261 

•wrote  letters  with  his  own  hand  to  the  governors  of  the  provinces  and  the 
principal  cities,  calling  on  them  to  support  the  regent  in  her  efforts  to  enforce 
the  laws  and  maintain  order  throughout  the  country." 

Such  were  the  concessions  granted  by  Philip,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  to  his  sub- 
jects of  the  Netherlands  ! — concessions  wrung  from  him  by  hard  necessity ; 
doled  out,  as  it  were,  like  the  scanty  charity  of  the  miser, — too  scanty  and  too 
late  to  serve  the  object  for  which  it  is  intended.  But  slight  as  these  conces- 
sions were,  and  crippled  by  conditions  which  rendered  them  nearly  nugatory, 
it  will  hardly  be  believed  that  he  was  not  even  sincere  in  making  them  !  This 
is  proved  by  a  revelation  lately  made  of  a  curious  document  in  the  Archives  of 
Siman^as. 

While  the  ink  was  scarcely  dry  on  the  despatches  to  Margaret,  Philip  sum- 
moned a  notary  into  his  presence,  and  before  the  duke  of  Alva  and  two  other 
persons,  jurists,  solemnly  protested  that  the  authority  he  had  given  to  the 
regent  in  respect  to  a  general  pardon  was  not  of  his  own  free  will.  "  He 
therefore  did  not  feel  bound  by  it,  but  reserved  to  himself  the  right  to  punish 
the  guilty,  and  especially  the  authors  and  abettors  of  sedition  in  the  Low 
Countries."46  We  feel  ourselves  at  once  transported  into  the  depths  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  This  feeling  will  not  be  changed  when  we  learn  the  rest  of  the 
story  of  this  admirable  piece  of  kingcraft. 

The  chair  of  St.  Peter,  at  this  time,  was  occupied  by  Pius  the  Fifth,  a  pope 
who  had  assumed  the  same  name  as  his  predecessor,  and  who  displayed  a  spirit 
of  fierce,  indeed  frantic,  intolerance,  surpassing  even  that  of  Paul  the  Fourth. 
At  the  accession  of  the  new  pope  there  were  three  Italian  scholars,  inhabitants 
of  Milan,  Venice,  and  Tuscany,  eminent  for  their  piety,  who  had  done  great 
service  to  the  cause  of  letters  in  Italy,  but  who  were  suspected  of  too  liberal 
opinions  in  matters  of  faith.  Pius  the  Fifth  demanded  that  these  scholars 
should  all  be  delivered  into  his  hands.  The  three  states  had  the  meanness  to 
comply.  The  unfortunate  men  were  delivered  up  to  the  Holy  Office,  con- 
demned, and  burned  at  the  stake.  This  was  one  of  the  first  acts  of  the  new 
pontificate.  It  proclaimed  to  Christendom  that  Pius  the  Fifth  was  the 
uncompromising  foe  of  heresy,  the  pope  of  the  Inquisition.  Every  subsequent 
act  of  his  reign  served  to  confirm  his  claim  to  this  distinction. 

Yet,  as  far  as  the  interests  of  Catholicism  were  concerned,  a  character  like 
that  of  Pius  the  Fifth  must  be  allowed  to  have  suited  the  times.  During  the 
latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century  and  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth,  the 
throne  nad  been  filled  by  a  succession  of  pontiffs  notorious  for  their  religious 
indifference,  and  their  carelessness,  too  often  profligacy,  of  lifa  This,  as  is 
well  known,  was  one  of  the  prominent  causes  of  the  Reformation.  A 
reaction  followed.  It  was  necessary  to  save  the  Church.  A  race  of  men 
succeeded,  of  ascetic  temper,  remarkable  for  their  austere  virtues,  but  without 
a  touch  of  sympathy  for  the  joys  or  sorrows  of  their  species,  and  wholly 
devoted  to  the  great  work  of  regenerating  the  fallen  Church.  As  the  influence 
of  the  former  popes  had  opened  a  career  to  the  Reformation,  the  influence  of 
these  latter  popes  tended  materially  to  check  it  -.  and  long  before  the  close  of 
the  sixteen tn  century  the  boundary- line  was  defined,  which  it  has  never  since 
been  allowed  to  pass. 

Pius,  as  may  be  imagined,  l>eheld  with  deep  anxiety  the  spread  of  the  new 

**  Correspondance    dc    Marguerite    d'Au-  crux  qul  ont  cte  !••*  amours  et  fauteurs  dos 

tricbc,  pp.  106.  lit.  aeditlons."    Currropondance  do   Philip|>e  II., 

•"  "Comtnc  II  ne  I'a  pan  fait  llbreropnt,  nl  torn.  I.  p.  443.— One  would  have  !»•.  n  glad  to 

cpontiiiii'iiKMit,  II  n'entcnd  i-tre  lie  par  cetie  *••••  the  original  text  of  this  protest,  which  is 

autorinatiun,  main  an  contratre  II  «••  reserve  In  Latin,  instead  of  M.  UncbarU's  abstract, 
ile  puuir  lea  coupablcs,  ct   princlpatauent 


262 


FREEDOM  OF  WORSHIP. 


religion  in  the  Low  Countries.  He  wrote  to  the  duchess  of  Parma,  exhorting 
her  to  resist  to  the  utmost,  and  professing  his  readiness  to  supply  her,  if  need 
were,  with  both  men  and  money.  To  Philip  he  also  wrote,  conjuring  him  not 
to  falter  in  the  good  cause,  and  to  allow  no  harm  to  the  Catholic  faith,  but  to 
march  against  his  rebellious  vassals  at  the  head  of  his  army  and  wash  out  the 
stain  of  heresy  in  the  blood  of  the  heretic.47 

The  king  now  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  explain  to  the  holy  father  his  late 
proceedings.  This  he  did  through  Requesens,  his  ambassador  at  the  papal 
court.  The  minister  was  to  inform  his  holiness  that  Philip  would  not  have 
moved  in  this  matter  without  his  advice,  had  there  been  time  for  it.  But 
perhaps  it  was  better  as  it  was ;  for  the  abolition  of  the  Inquisition  in  the 
Low  Countries  could  not  take  effect,  after  all,  unless  sanctioned  by  the  pope, 
by  whose  authority  it  had  been  established.  This,  however,  was  to  be  said  in 
confidence.**  As  to  the  edicts,  Pius  might  be  assured  that  his  majesty  would 
never  approve  of  any  scheme  which  favoured  the  guilty  by  diminishing  in  any 
degree  the  penalties  of  their  crimes.  This  also  was  to  be  considered  as 
secret.*9  Lastly,  his  holiness  need  not  be  scandalized  by  the  grant  of  a  general 

Krdon,  since  it  referred  only  to  what  concerned  the  king  personally,  where  he 
d  a  right  to  grant  it.    In  fine,  the  pope  might  rest  assured  that  the  king 
would  consent  to  nothing  that  could  prejudice  the  service  of  God  or  the  inte- 
rests of  religion.    He  deprecated  force,  as  that  would  involve  the  ruin  of  the 
country.    Still,  he  would  march  in  person,  without  regard  to  his  own  peril,  and 


"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  236. 
—Among  those  who  urged  the  king  to  violent 
measures,  no  one  was  so  importunate  as  Fray 
Lorenzo  de  Villacancio,  an  Augustin  monk, 
•who  distinguished  himself  by  the  zeal  and 
intrepidity  with  which  he  ventured  into  the 
strongholds  of  the  Reformers  an>l  openly  de- 
nounced their  doctrines.  Philip,  acquainted 
with  the  uncompromising  temper  of  the  man, 
and  his  devotion  to  the  Catholic  Church,  em- 
ployed him  lx)th  as  an  agent  and  an  adviser 
in  regard  t<>  the  affairs  of  the  Low  Countries, 
where  Fray  Lorenzo  was  staying  in  the  earlier 
period  of  the  troubles.  Many  of  the  friar's 
letters  to  the  king  are  still  preserved  in 
Simancas,  and  astonish  one  by  the  boldness 
of  their  criticisms  on  the  conduct  of  the 
ministers,  and  even  of  the  monarch  himself, 
whom  Lorenzo  openly  accuses  of  a  timid 
policy  towards  the  Reformers  In  a  me- 
morial on  the  state  of  the  country,  prepared. 
«t  Philip's  suggestion,  in  the  beginning  of 
1566,  Kray  Ix>renzo  urges  the  necessity  of 
the  most  rigorous  measures  towards  the  Pro- 
testants in  the  Netherlands.  "Since  your 
majesty  holds  the  sword  which  God  has  given 
to  you,  with  the  divine  power  over  our  lives, 
let  it  be  drawn  from  the  scabbard,  and 
plunged  in  the  blood  of  the  hen-tics,  if  you 
do  not  wish  that  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ, 
shed  by  tbese  b  vrbarians.  and  the  blood  of 
the  innocent  Catholics  whom  they  have  op- 
pressed, should  cry  alou.l  10  Heaven  for  ven- 
geance on  the  sacred  head  of  your  majesty ! 
.  .  .  The  holy  King  David  showed  no  pity 
for  the  enemies  of  God.  He  slew  them, 
sparing  neither  man  nor  woman.  Moses  and 
bis  brother,  in  a  single  day,  destroyed  three 
thousand  of  the  children  of  Israel.  An  angel, 


In  one  night,  put  to  death  more  than  sixty 
thousand  enemies  of  the  Lord.  Your  majesty 
is  a  king,  like  David ;  like  Moses,  a  captain 
of  the  people  of  Jehovah  ;  an  angel  of  the 
Lord, — for  so  the  Scriptures  style  the  kings 
and  captains  of  his  people ; — and  these  here- 
tics are  the  enemies  of  the  living  God ! " 
And  in  the  same  strain  of  fiery  and  fanatical 
eloquence  he  continues  to  invoke  the  ven- 
geance of  Philip  on  the  heads  of  his  unfor- 
tunate subjects  in  the  Netherlands.  That 
the  ravings  of  this  hard-hearted  bigot  were 
not  distasteful  to  Philip  may  be  inferred  from 
the  fact  that  he  ordered  a  copy  of  his  me- 
morial to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  Alva,  on 
bis  departure  for  the  Low  Countries.  It  ap- 
pears that  he  had  some  thoughts  of  sending 
Fray  Lorenzo  to  join  the  duke  there,— a  pro- 
ject which  received  little  encouragement  from 
the  latter,  who  probably  did  not  care  to  have 
so  meddlesome  a  person  as  this  frantic  friar 
to  watch  his  proceedings.  An  interesting 
notice  of  this  remarkable  man  is  to  be  found 
!n  Gachard,  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II., 
torn,  ii..  Rapport,  pp.  xvi.-l. 

*•  "  Y  por  la  priesa  que  dieron  en  esto,  no 
ubo  tiempo  de  consultarlo  u  Su  Santidad, 
como  fuera  justo,  y  quiza  avra  sido  asf  mejor, 
pues  no  vale  nada,  sino  quitandola  Su  Santi- 
dad que  es  que  la  jione ;  pero  fn  esto  con viene 
que  aya  el  srcreto  que  puede  considerar." 
Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p. 
445. 

*"  "Y  en  esto  conviene  el  mismo  secreto 
que  en  lo  de  arriba."  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. — 
These  injunctions  of  secrecy  are  interpola- 
tions in  the  handw  'ng  of  the  "prudent" 
monarch  himself. 


PHILIP'S  CONCESSIONS.  £33 

employ  force,  though  it  should  cost  the  ruin  of  the  provinces,  but  he  would 
bring  his  vassals  to  submission.  For  he  would  sooner  lose  a  hundred  lives,  and 
everv  rood  of  empire,  than  reign  a  lord  over  heretics.50 

Thus  all  the  concessions  of  Philip,  not  merely  his  promises  of  grace,  but  those 
of  abolishing  the  Inquisition  and  mitigating  the  edicts,  were  tp  go  for  nothing, 
— mere  words,  to  amuse  the  people  until  some  effectual  means  could  be  decided 
on.  The  king  must  be  allowed,  for  once  at  least,  to  have  spoken  with  candour. 
There  are  few  persons  who  would  not  have  shrunk  from  acknowledging  to 
their  own  hearts  that  they  were  acting  on  so  deliberate  a  system  of  perfidy  as 
Philip  thus  confided  in  his  correspondence  with  another.  Indeed,  he  seems  to 
have  regarded  the  pope  in  the  light  of  his  confessor,  to  whom  he  was  to 
unburden  his  bosom  as  frankly  as  if  ne  had  been  in  the  confessional.  The  shrift 
was  not  likely  to  bring  down  a  heavy  penance  from  one  who  doubtless  held  to 
the  orthodox  maxim  of  "  No  faith  tp  be  kept  with  heretics." 

The  result  of  these  royal  concessions  was  what  might  have  been  expected. 
Crippled  as  they  were  by  conditions,  they  were  regarded  in  the  Low  Countries 
with  distrust,  not  to  say  contempt.  In  fact,  the  point  at  which  Philip  had  so 
slowly  and  painfully  arrived  had  been  long  since  passed  in  the  onward  march 
of  the  revolution.  The  men  of  the  Netherlands  now  talked  much  more  of 
recompense  than  of  pardon.  By  a  curious  coincidence,  the  thirty-first  of  July, 
the  day  on  which  the  king  wrote  his  last  despatches  from  Segovia,  was  pre- 
cisely the  date  of  those  which  Margaret  sent  to  him  from  Brussels,  giving  the 
particulars  of  the  recent  troubles,  of  the  meeting  at  St.  Trond,  the  demand  for 
a  guarantee,  and  for  an  immediate  summons  of  the  legislature. 

But  the  fountain  of  royal  grace  had  been  completely  drained  by  the  late 
efforts.  Philip's  reply  at  this  time  was  prompt  and  to  the  point.  As  to  the 
guarantee,  that  was  superfluous  when  he  liad  granted  a  general'pardou.  For 
the  states-general,  there  was  no  need  to  alter  his  decision  now,  since  he  was  so 
soon  to  be  present  in  the  country.11 

This  visit  of  the  king  to  the  Low  Countries,  respecting  which  so  much  was 
said  and  so  little  was  done,  seems  to  have  furnished  some  amusement  to  the 
wits  of  the  court.  The  prince  of  Asturias,  Don  Carlos,  scribbled  one  day  on 
the  cover  of  a  blank  book,  as  its  title,  "  The  Great  and  Admirable  Voyages  of 
King  Philip  ; "  and  within,  for  the  contents,  he  wrote,  "  From  Madrid  to  the 
Pardo,  from  the  Pardo  to  the  Escorial,  from  the  Escorial  to  Aranjiiez,"  etc., 
etc.*1  This  jest  of  the  graceless  son  had  an  edge  to  it.  We  are  not  told  how 
far  it  was  relished  by  his  royal  father. 

M  "  Perdere  lodes  mis  estados,  y  cicn  vidas  pour  la  changer  ne  cju'il  conviengne  anlcune- 

que  tuviesoe,  porque  yo  no  pienno  nl  quiero  merit  qu'clle  H;  face  en  nion  absence,  rnesmes 

eer  senor  de  beregee."     Correspundance  «le  comme  Je  suls  si  prest  de  mun  partem<  nt  " 

i'bilippe  II..  torn.  i.  p.  446.  Correspondancc  de  Marguerite  d'Autriclic,  p. 

"  "  fct,  au  regard  de  la  covocation  desdicts  165. 

Estate  glneraulx,  comme  je  vous  ay  rscript  "  Brantume,  IKuvres,  torn.  ili.  p.  321. 
mun  Intention,  je  ne  treuve  qu'il  y  a  matiere 


264  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

Cathedral  of  Antwerp  sacked— Sacrilegious  Outrages — Alarm  at  Brussels — Churches  granted  to 
Reformers — Margaret  repents  her  Concessions — Feeling  at  Madrid — Sagacity  of  Orange— 
His  Religions  Opinions. 

1566. 

WHILE  Philip  was  thus  tardily  coming  to  concessions  which  even  then  were 
not  sincere,  an  important  crisis  had  arrived  in  the  affairs  of  the  Netherlands. 
In  the  earlier  stages  of  the  troubles,  all  orders,  the  nobles,  the  commons,  even 
the  regent,  had  united  in  the  desire  to  obtain  the  removal  of  certain  abuses, 
especially  the  Inquisition  and  the  edicts.  But  this  movement,  in  which  the 
Catholic  joined  with  the  Protestant,  had  far  less  reference  to  the  interests  of 
religion  than  to  the  personal  rights  of  the  individual.  Under  the  protection 
thus  afforded,  however,  the  Reformation  struck  deep  root  in  the  soil.  It 
flourished  still  more  under  the  favour  shown  to  it  by  the  confederates,  who,  as 
we  have  seen,  did  not  scruple  to  guarantee  security  of  religious  worship  to 
some  of  the  sectaries  who  demanded  it. 

But  the  element  which  contributed  most  to  the  success  of  the  new  religion 
was  the  public  preachings.  These  in  the  Netherlands  were  what  the  Jacobin 
clubs  were  in  France,  or  the  secret  societies  in  Germany  and  Italy, — an  obvious 
means  for  bringing  together  such  as  were  pledged  to  a  common  hostility  to 
existing  institutions,  and  thus  affording  them  an  opportunity  for  consulting 
on  their  grievances  and  for  concerting  the  best  means  of  redress.  The  direct 
object  of  these  meetings,  it  is  true,  was  to  listen  to  the  teachings  of  the 
minister.  But  that  functionary,  far  from  confining  himself  to  spiritual  exer- 
cises, usually  wandered  to  more  exciting  themes,  as  the  corruptions  of  the 
Church  and  the  condition  of  the  land.  He  rarely  failed  to  descant  on  the 
forlorn  circumstances  of  himself  and  his  flock,  condemned  thus  stealthily  to 
herd  together  like  a  band  of  outlaws,  with  ropes,  as  it  were,  about  their  necks, 
and  to  seek  out  some  solitary  spot  in  which  to  glorify  the  Lord,  while  their 
enemies,  in  all  the  pride  of  a  dominant  religion,  could  offer  up  their  devotions 
openly  and  without  fear,  in  magnificent  temples.  The  preacher  inveighed 
bitterly  against  the  richly  beneficed  clergy  of  the  rival  Church,  whose  lives  of 
pampered  ease  too  often  furnished  an  indifferent  commentary  on  the  doctrines 
they  inculcated.  His  wrath  was  kindled  by  the  pompous  ceremonial  of  the 
Church  of  Rome,  so  dazzling  and  attractive  to  its  votaries,  but  which  the 
Reformer  sourly  contrasted  with  the  naked  simplicity  of  the  Protestant 
service.  Of  all  abominations,  however,  the  greatest  in  his  eyes  was  the  worship 
of  images,  which  he  compared  to  the  idolatry  that  in  ancient  times  had  so 
often  brought  down  the  vengeance  of  Jehovah  on  the  nations  of  Palestine ; 
and  he  called  on  his  hearers  not  merely  to  remove  idolatry  from  their  hearts, 
but  the  idols  from  their  sight.1  It  was  not  wonderful  that,  thus  stimulated 
by  their  spiritual  leaders,  the  people  should  be  prepared  for  scenes  similar  to 
those  enacted  by  the  Reformers  in  France  and  in  Scotland,  or  that  Margaret, 
aware  of  the  popular  feeling,  should  have  predicted  such  an  outbreak.  At 

1  "  Accendnnt   animos  Ministri.  fuglenda       opportero  affirmant."    Vander  Haer,  De  Ini- 
non  animo  mod6,  sod  et  corpore  idola  :  eradi-        tiis  Tumultuum,  p.  236. 
cari,  extirpari  tantam  suiniui  Dei  coutumeliam 


CATHEDRAL  OF  ANTWERP  SACKED.  2G5 

length  it  came,  and  on  a  scale  and  with  a  degree  of  violence  not  surpassed 
either  by  the  Huguenots  or  the  disciples  of  Knox. 

On  the  fourteenth  of  August,  the  day  before  the  festival  of  the  Assumption 
of  the  Virgin,  a  mob  seme  three  hundred  in  number,  armed  with  clubs,  axes, 
and  other  implements  of  destruction,  broke  into  the  churches  around  St.  Omer, 
in  the  province  of  Flanders,  overturned  the  images,  defaced  the  ornaments, 
and  in  a  short  time  demolished  whatever  had  any  value  or  beauty  in  the 
buildings.  Growing  bolder  from  the  impunity  which  attended  their  move- 
ments, they  next  proceeded  to  Ypres,  and  had  the  audacity  to  break  into  the 
cathedral  and  deaf  with  it  in  the  same  ruthless  manner.  Strengthened  by  the 
accession  of  other  miscreants  from  the  various  towns,  they  proceeded  along 
the  banks  of  the  Lys,  and  fell  upon  the  churches  of  Menin,  Comines,  and 
other  places  on  its  borders.  The  excitement  now  spread  over  the  country. 
Everywhere  the  {>opulace  was  in  arms.  Churches,  chapels,  and  convents  were 
involved  in  indiscriminate  ruin.  The  storm,  after  sweeping  over  Flanders  and 
desolating  the  flourishing  cities  of  Valenciennes  and  Tournay,  descended  on 
Brabant.  Antwerp,  the  great  commercial  capital  of  the  country,  was  its  first 
mark.* 

The  usual  population  of  the  town  happened  to  be  swelled  at  this  time  by  an 
influx  of  strangers  from  the  neighbouring  country,  who  had  come  up  to  cele- 
brate the  great  festival  of  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin.  Fortunately,  the 
prince  of  Orange  was  in  the  place,  and  by  his  presence  prevented  any  molesta- 
tion to  the  procession,  except  what  arose  from  the  occasional  groans  and  hisses 
of  the  more  zealous  spectators  among  the  Protestants.  The  priests,  however, 
on  their  return,  had  the  discretion  to  deposit  the  image  in  the  chapel,  instead 
of  the  conspicuous  station  usually  assigned  to  it  in  the  cathedral,  to  receive 
there  during  the  coming  week  the  adoration  of  the  faithful. 

On  the  following  day,  unluckily,  the  prince  was  recalled  to  Brussels.  In  the 
evening  some  boys,  who  had  found  their  way  into  the  church,  called  out  to 
the  Virgin,  demanding  "why  little  Mary  had  gone  so  early  to  her  nest,  and 
whether  she  were  afraid  to  show  her  face  in  public."  *  This  was  followed  by 
one  of  the  party  mounting  into  the  pulpit  ana  there  mimicking  the  tones  and 
gestures  01  the  Catholic  preacher.  An  honest  waterman  who  was  present,  a 
zealous  son  of  the  Church,  scandalized  by  this  insult  to  his  religion,  sprang 
into  the  pulpit  and  endeavoured  to  dislodge  the  usurper.  The  lad  resisted. 
His  comrades  came  to  his  rescue  ;  and  a  struggle  ensued,  which  ended  in  both 
the  parties  being  expelled  from  the  building  by  the  officers.4  This  scandalous 
proceeding,  it  may  be  thought,  should  have  put  the  magistrates  of  the  city  on 
their  guard  and  warned  them  to  take  some  measures  of  defence  for  the 
cathedral.  But  the  admonition  was  not  heeded. 

On  the  following  day  a  considerable  number  of  the  reformed  party  entered 
the  building,  and  were  allowed  to  continue  there  after  vespers,  when  the  rest 
of  the  congregation  had  withdrawn.  Left  in  possession,  their  first  act  was  to 
break  forth  into  one  of  the  Psalms  of  David.  The  sound  of  their  own  voices 
seemed  to  rouse  them  to  fury.  Before  the  chant  had  died  away,  they  rushed 
forward  as  by  a  common  impulse,  broke  open  the  doors  of  the  chapel,  and 
dragged  forth  the  image  of  the  Virgin.  Some  called  on  her  to  cry,  "  Vivent 
let  Gueux!"  while  others  tore  off  her  embroidered  robes  and  rolled  the  dumb 
idol  in  the  dust,  amidst  the  shouts  of  the  spectators. 

1  Strada,  De  Hello  Bclglco.  torn.  I.  pp.  250-  '  "Si  Mariette  avail  penr, qu'ellene  retiiit 

252. — Vamler  Haer,  lie  Initli*  Tumultuum,  -it.'.t  cm  son  niii."    Corre8|>on<laMre  tie  Guil- 

p.  232,  et  s*q.— Hopper,  Kecuell  et  Memorial,  laume  Ic  Taciturne,  torn,  ii..  Preface,  p.  lit. 

p.  86.—  CowftpoiHlance  Ue  Marguerite  U'Au-  •  1WU.,  ubi  supra. 
trit.be,  pp.  i.-j,  186. 


266  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

This  was  the  signal  for  havoc.  The  rioters  dispersed  in  all  directions  on 
the  work  of  destruction.  Nothing  escaped  their  rage.  High  above  the  great 
altar  was  an  image  of  the  Saviour,  curiously  carved  in  wood,  and  placed 
between  the  effigies  of  the  two  thieves  crucified  with  him.  The  mob  contrived 
to  get  a  rope  round  the  neck  of  the  statue  of  Christ,  and  dragged  it  to  the 
ground.  They  then  fell  upon  it  with  hatchets  and  hammers,  and  it  was  soon 
broken  into  a  hundred  fragments.  The  two  thieves,  it  was  remarked,  were 
spared,  as  if  to  preside  over  the  work  of  rapine  below. 

Their  fury  now  turned  against  the  other  statues,  which  were  quickly  over- 
thrown from  their  pedestals.  The  paintings  that  lined  the  walls  of  the 
cathedral  were  cut  into  shreds.  Many  of  these  were  the  choicest  specimens  of 
Flemish  art,  even  then,  in  its  dawn,  giving  promise  of  the  glorious  day  which 
was  to  shed  a  lustre  over  the  land. 

But  the  pride  of  the  cathedral,  and  of  Antwerp,  was  the  great  organ,  re- 
nowned throughout  the  Netherlands,  not  more  for  its  dimensions  than  its 
perfect  workmanship.  With  their  ladders  the  rioters  scaled  the  lofty  fabric, 
and  with  their  implements  soon  converted  it,  like  all  else  they  laid  their  hands 
on,  into  a  heap  of  rubbish. 

The  ruin  was  now  universal.  Nothing  beautiful,  nothing  holy,  was  spared. 
The  altars — and  there  were  no  less  than  seventy  in  the  vast  edifice — were 
overthrown  one  after  another ;  their  richly  embroidered  coverings  rudely  rent 
away;  their  gold  and  silver  vessels  appropriated  by  the  plunderers.  The 
sacramental  bread  was  trodden  under  foot ;  the  wine  was  quaffed  by  the  mis- 
creants, in  golden  chalices,  to  the  health  of  one  another,  or  of  the  Gueux  ;  and 
the  holy  OH  was  profanely  used  to  anoint  their  shoes  and  sandals.  The 
sculptured  tracery  on  the  walls,  the  costly  offerings  that  enriched  the  shrines, 
the  screens  of  gilded  bronze,  the  delicately  carved  wood- work  of  the  pulpit,  the 
marble  and  alabaster  ornaments,  all  went  down  under  the  fierce  blows  of  the 
iconoclasts.  The  pavement  was  strewed  with  the  ruined  splendours  of  a 
church  which  in  size  and  magnificence  was  perhaps  second  only  to  St.  Peter's 
among  the  churches  of  Christendom. 

As  the  light  of  day  faded,  the  assailants  supplied  its  place  with  such  light  as 
they  could  obtain  from  the  candles  which  they  snatched  from  the  altars.  It 
was  midnight  before  the  work  of  destruction  was  completed.  Thus  toiling  in 
darkness,  feebly  dispelled  by  tapers  the  rays  of  which  could  scarcely  penetrate 
the  vaulted  distances  of  the  cathedral,  it  is  a  curious  circumstance — if  true — 
that  no  one  was  injured  by  the  heavy  masses  of  timber,  stone,  and  metal  that 
were  everywhere  falling  around  them.*  The  whole  number  engaged  in  this 
work  is  said  not  to  have  exceeded  a  hundred  men,  women,  and  boys, — women 
of  the  lowest  description,  dressed  in  men's  attire. 

When  their  task  was  completed,  they  sallied  forth  in  a  body  from  the  doors 
of  the  cathedral,  some  singing  the  Psalms  of  David,  others  roaring  out  the 
fanatical  war-cry  of  "  Vivent  Let  Gueux  !  "  Flushed  with  success,  and  joined 
on  the  way  by  stragglers  like  themselves,  they  burst  open  the  doors  of  one 
church  after  another ;  and  by  the  time  morning  broke,  the  principal  temples 
in  the  city  had  been  dealt  with  in  the  same  ruthless  manner  as  the  cathedral.' 

No  attempt  all  this  time  was  made  to  stop  these  proceedings,  on  the  part 

•  "  Nullus  ex  eo  numero  ant  casu  affliotns,  work  was  done  under  the  Immediate  direction 

aut  ruina  oppressus  decidentium  ac  transvo-  of  the  demons  of  hell !" 

lantiuni  frairm  ntorum,  autoccureu  collisuque  •  Ibid.,    pp.    255-258. — Vander    Haer,   De 

festinantium  cum  fabrilibus  armis  levissirae  Initiis  Tumultuum,  p.  237,  et  seq.— Brandt, 

sauciatus  sit."    Strnda,  1)e  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  Reformation  in  the  Low  Countries,  vol.  i.  p. 

i.  p.  257. — "No  light  argument,"  adds  the  193. — Correspondince  de  Guillaume  le  Taci- 

historian,  "that  with  Uod's  permission  the  turne,  torn.  H.,  Preface,  pp.  liii.,  liv. 


SACRILEGIOUS  OUTRAGES.  267 

of  magistrates  or  citizens.  As  they  beheld  from  their  windows  the  bodies  of 
armed  men  hurrying  to  and  fro  by  the  gleam  of  their  torches,  and  listened 
to  the  sounds  of  violence  in  the  distance,  they  seem  to  have  been  struck  with 
a  panic.  The  Catholics  remained  within-doors,  fearing  a  general  rising  of  the 
Protestants.  The  Protestants  feared  to  move  abroad,  lest  they  should  be 
confounded  with  the  rioters.  Some  imagined  their  own  turn  might  come 
next,  and  appeared  in  arms  at  the  entrances  of  their  houses,  prepared  to 
defend  them  against  the  enemy. 

When  gorged  with  the  plunder  of  the  city,  the  insurgents  poured  out  at  the 
gates,  and  fell  with  the  same  violence  on  the  churches,  convents,  and  other 
religious  edifices  in  the  suburbs.  For  three  days  these  dismal  scenes  con- 
tinued, without  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants.  Amidst  the  ruin 
in  the  cathedral,  the  mob  had  spared  the  royal  arms  and  the  escutcheons  of 
the  knights  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  emblazoned  on  the  walls.  Calling  this  to 
mind,  they  now  returned  into  the  city  to  complete  the  work.  But  some  of 
the  knights,  who  were  at  Antwerp,  collected  a  handful  of  their  followers,  and, 
with  a  few  of  the  citizens,  forced  their  way  into  the  cathedral,  arrested  ten  or 
twelve  of  the  rioters,  and  easily  dispersed  the  remainder ;  while  a  gallows  erected 
on  an  eminence  admonished  the  offenders  of  the  fate  that  awaited  them.  The 
facility  with  which  the  disorders  were  repressed  by  a  few  resolute  men  natu- 
rally suggests  the  inference  that  many  of  the  citizens  had  too  much  sympathy 
with  the  authors  of  the  outrages  to  care  to  check  them,  still  less  to  bring  the 
culprits  to  punishment.  An  orthodox  chronicler  of  the  time  vents  his  indigna- 
tion against  a  people  who  were  so  much  more  ready  to  stand  by  their  hearths 
than  by  their  altars.7 

The  fate  of  Antwerp  had  its  effect  on  the  country.  The  flames  of  fanati- 
cism, burning  fiercer  than  ever,  quickly  spread  over  the  northern  as  they  had 
done  over  the  western  provinces.  In  Holland,  Utrecht,  Friesland, — every- 
where, in  short,  with  a  few  exceptions  on  the  southern  borders,— mobs  rose 
against  the  churches.  In  some  places,  as  Rotterdam,  Dort,  Haarlem,  the 
magistrates  were  wary  enough  to  avert  the  storm  by  delivering  up  the  images, 
or  at  least  by  removing  them  from  the  buildings.'  It  was  rarely  that  any 
attempt  was  made  at  resistance.  Yet  on  one  or  two  occasions  this  so  far 
succeeded  that  a  handful  of  troops  sufficed  to  rout  the  iconoclasts.  At  An- 
chyn,  four  hundred  of  the  rabble  were  left  dead  on  the  field.  But  the  soldiers 
had  no  relish  for  their  duty,  and  on  other  occasions,  when  called  on  to  perform 
it,  refused  to  bear  arms  against  their  countrymen.'  The  leaven  of  heresy  was 
too  widely  spread  among  the  people. 

Thus  the  work  of  plunder  ana  devastation  went  on  vigorously  throughout 
the  land.  Cathedral  and  chapel,  monastery  and  nunnery,  religious  houses  of 
every  description,  even  hospitals,  were  delivered  up  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
the  Reformers.  The  monks  fled,  leaving  behind  them  treasures  of  manu- 
scripts and  well-stored  cellars,  which  latter  the  invaders  soon  emptied  of  their 
contents,  while  they  consigned  the  former  to  the  flames.  The  terrified  nuns, 

'  "Pro    foci »    pugnatur   fnUrdiim    acritta  su  honra  por  camlnoa  y  formas  Incomprts 

quiiu  pro  aria."    Stratla.  De  Hello  Belgico,  hensibles,  io  ha  vengado  deflpure  cruelmente, 

torn.  i.  p.  260.  por  que  todox  esos  lugaren  duntle  efug  coftas 

*  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Countries,  ban  acontccldo  ban  nldo  tornados,  Haqueadoa, 
vol.  I.  p.  'Jiil.  dcapojado*  y  arruinados  pur  gucrra,  pillage, 

*  But  the  Almighty,  to  quote  the  words  of  peste  y  incomodidadca,  en  que,  aoi  los  males 
•  contemporary,  jealous  of  hla  own  honour,  y  culpadoa.  como  l<w  buenoe  por  eu  Miilriiui- 
took  algiial  vengeance  afterwards  on  all  thorn  cnUi  y  omnlvrnria,  ban  conocldo  y  omit-ndo 
towns  and  village*  whose   inhabitant*   had  queDioahasidocorridoconlraelloe."    Kenom 
'!.«.!  tamely  by  and  seen  the  profanation  of  de  Fruucla,  Alborutos  de  Flaiidet),  MS. 

bis  temples :  "  Dlos  que  en  juxlo  y  zclador  dc 


268  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

escaping  half  naked,  at  dead  of  night,  from  their  convents,  were  too  happy  to 
find  a  retreat  among  their  friends  and  kinsmen  in  the  city.1*  Neither  monk 
nor  nun  ventured  to  go  abroad  in  the  conventual  garb.  Priests  might  be 
sometimes  seen  hurrying  away  with  some  relic  or  sacred  treasure  under  their 
robes,  which  they  were  eager  to  save  from  the  spoilers.  In  the  general  sack 
not  even  the  abode  of  the  dead  was  respected ;  and  the  sepulchres  of  the 
counts  of  Flanders  were  violated,  and  laid  open  to  the  public  gaze !  u 

The  deeds  of  violence  perpetrated  by  the  iconoclasts  were  accompanied  by 
such  indignities  as  might  express  their  contempt  for  the  ancient  faith.  They 
snatched  the  wafer,  says  an  eye-witness,  from  the  altar,  and  put  it  into  the 
mouth  of  a  parrot.  Some  huddled  the  images  of  the  saints  together  and  set 
them  on  fire,  or  covered  them  with  bits  of  armour,  and,  shouting  "  Vivent  let 
Gueux  !  "  tilted  rudely  against  them.  Some  put  on  the  vestments  stolen  from 
the  churches,  and  ran  about  the  streets  with  them  in  mockery.  Some  basted 
the  books  with  butter,  that  they  might  burn  the  more  briskly.11  By  the 
scholar,  this  last  enormity  will  not  be  held  light  among  their  transgressions.  It 
answered  their  purpose,  to  judge  by  the  number  of  volumes  that  were  con- 
sumed. Among  the  rest,  the  great  library  at  Vicogne,  one  of  the  noblest 
collections  of  the  Netherlands,  perished  in  the  flames  kindled  by  these 
fanatics.1* 

The  amount  of  injury  inflicted  during  this  dismal  period  it  is  not  possible 
to  estimate.  Four  hundred  churches  were  sacked  by  the  insurgents  in  Flan- 
ders alone."  The  damage  to  the  cathedral  of  Antwerp,  including  its  precious 
contents,  was  said  to  amount  to  not  less  than  four  hundred  thousand  ducats  !  u 
The  loss  occasioned  by  the  plunder  of  gold  and  silver  plate  might  be  computed. 
The  structures  so  cruelly  defaced  might  be  repaired  by  the  skill  of  the  archi- 
tect. But  who  can  estimate  the  irreparable  loss  occasioned  by  the  destruction 
of  manuscripts,  statuary,  and  paintings?  It  is  a  melancholy  fact  that  the 
earliest  efforts  of  the  Reformers  were  everywhere  directed"^  against  those 
monuments  of  genius  which  had  been  created  and  cherished  by  the  generous 
patronage  of  Catholicism.  But  if  the  first  step  of  the  Reformation  was  on  the 
ruins  of  art,  it-cannot  be  denied  that  a  compensation  has  been  found  in  the 
good  which  it  has  done  by  breaking  the  fetters  of  the  intellect  and  opening 
a  free  range  in  those  domains  of  science  to  which  all  access  had  been  hitherto 
denied. 

The  wide  extent  of  the  devastation  was  not  more  remarkable  than  the 
time  in  which  it  was  accomplished.  The  whole  work  occupied  less  than  a 
fortnight.  It  seemed  as  if  the  destroying  angel  had  passed  over  the  land  and 
at  a  blow  had  consigned  its  noblest  edifices  to  ruin  !  The  method  and  dis- 
cipline, if  I  may  so  say,  in  the  movements  of  the  iconoclasts,  were  as  extraor- 
dinary as  their  celerity.  They  would  seem  to  have  been  directed  by  some 
other  hands  than  those  which  met  the  vulgar  eye.  The  quantity  of  gold  and 
silver  plate  purloined  from  the  churches  and  convents  was  immense.  Though 
doubtless  sometimes  appropriated  by  individuals,  it  seems  not  unfrequently 
to  have  been  gathered  in  a  heap  and  delivered  to  the  minister,  who,  either 

10  Strada,  De  Bello  Belglco,  torn.  1.  p.  259.  clamare  imperarent,   ut  ad   scopum    sic  ad 

11  "  En  tous  ces  monasteres  et  cloistres,  ils  Christi  imaginem  iaculaturi  collimarent,  libroa 
abattent  touttes  sepultures    des   comtes   et  bibliotbecarum    butiru    inunctos    in    ignem 
comtcsses  de   Flandres  et  aultres."     Corre-  conijcerent,  sacris  vestibus  summo  ludibrio 
spoudance  de  Marguerite  d'Autriche,  p.  183.  per  vicos  palam  vterentur."    Vander  Haer,  De 

'*  "Hie  psittaco  sacrosanctum  Domini  cor-  Initiis  Tumult uuui.  p.  238. 

pus  p»rrigerent:    Hie  ex    ordine   collocatis  *'  Hooper,  Recueil  et  Memorial,  p.  98. 

imaglnibuB  ijmem  subijcerent,  cadentibus  in-  '•  CorrespondancedeMarguerited'Autrlclie, 

sultarent:    Hlc  statui*  artna    induerent,  in  p.  182. 

armatos  depuguarent,  deiectos,  Viuant  Geusij  "  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p,  260. 


ALARM  AT  BRUSSELS.  260 

of  himself,  or  by  direction  of  the  consistory,  caused  it  to  be  melted  down  and 
distributed  among  the  most  needy  of  the  sectaries.16  We  may  sympathize 
with  the  indignation  of  a  Catholic  writer  of  the  time,  who  exclaims  that  in 
this  way  the  poor  churchmen  were  made  to  pay  for  the  scourges  with  which 
they  hau  been  beaten.17 

The  tidings  of  the  outbreak  fell  heavily  on  the  ears  of  the  court  of  Brussels, 
where  the  repent,  notwithstanding  her  prediction  of  the  event,  was  not  any 
the  better  prepared  for  it.  She  at  once  called  her  counsellors  together  and  * 
demanded  their  aid  in  defending  the  religion  of  the  country  against  its 
enemies.  But  the  prince  of  Orange  and  his  friends  discouraged  a  resort  to 
violent  measures,  as  little  likely  to  prevail  in  the  present  temper  of  the  people. 
"  First,"  said  Egmont,  "  let  us  provide  for  the  security  of  the  state.  It  will 
be  time  enough  then  to  think  of  religion."  "  No,"  said  Margaret,  warmly ; 
"  the  service  of  God  demands  our  first  care ;  for  the  ruin  of  religion  would  be 
a  greater  evil  than  the  loss  of  the  country."  I8  "  Those  who  have  anything 
to  lose  in  it,"  replied  the  count,  somewhat  coolly,  "  will  probably  be  of  a 
different  opinion,  " — an  answer  that  greatly  displeased  the  duchess. 

Rumours  now  came  thick  on  one  another  of  the  outrages  committed  by  the 
image-breakers.  Fears  were  entertained  that  their  next  move  would  be  on 
the  capital  itself.  Hitherto  the  presence  of  the  regent  had  preserved  Brussels, 
notwithstanding  some  transient  demonstrations  among  the  people,  from  the 
spirit  of  reform  which  had  convulsed  the  rest  of  the  country.  No  public 
meetings  had  been  held  either  in  the  city  or  the  suburbs  ;  for  Margaret  had 
declared  she  would  hang  up  not  only  the  preacher,  but  all  those  who  attended 
him.**  The  menace  had  its  effect.  Thus  keeping  aloof  from  the  general 
movement  of  the  time,  the  capital  was  looked  on  with  an  evil  eye  by  the 
surrounding  country ;  and  reports  were  rife  that  the  iconoclasts  were  pre- 
paring to  march  in  such  force  on  the  place  as  should  enable  them  to  deal, 
with  it  as  they  had  done  with  Antwerp  and  the  other  cities  of  Brakant. 

The  question  now  arose  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued  in  the  present 
exigency.  The  prince  of  Orange  and  his  friends  earnestly  advised  that  Mar- 
garet should  secure  the  aid  of  the  confederates  by  the  concessions  they  had 
so  strenuously  demanded ;  in  the  next  place,  that  she  should  conciliate  the 
Protestants  by  consenting  to  their  religious  meetings.  To  the  former  she 
made  no  objection.  But  the  latter  she  peremptorily  refused.  "  It  would  be 
the  ruin  of  our  holy  religion,"  she  said.  It  was  in  vain  they  urged  that  two 
hundred  thousand  sectaries  were  in  arms ;  that  they  were  already  in  pos- 
session of  the  churches  ;  that  if  she  persisted  in  her  refusal  they  would  soon 
lie  in  Brussels  and  massacre  every  priest  and  Roman  Catholic  before  her 
eyes  !  *'  Notwithstanding  this  glowing  j  icture  of  the  horrors  in  store  for 
her,  Margaret  remained  inflexible.  But  her  agitation  was  excessive ;  she 

"  "  Y  de  lo  que  venia  del  saco  de  la  platorla  qu'exlgealt  IP  service  d«>  Dieu,  parcc  quo  la 

7  COMS  ragradaa  de  la  yglesia  (que  algunos  mine  de  la  religion  seralt  un  plus  grand  tnal 

ministrc*  y  IOH  del  conaistorlo  juntavan  en  que  la  perte  du  pays."    Correspondence  de 

una)  di-tribuyen-lo  it  los  Deles    reformados  1'hllippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  449. 

alguno*  frutos  de  su  reformacion,  para  con-  '*  "11  repartit  que  tous  ceux  que  nvaient 

tentarfiloshambrientofl."   Reuoni  de  Franda,  qu- Iquc  c hone  a  prrdre,  ne  rcniendaicut  pas 

Alborotosde  Klamles,  MS.  de  cette  maniere.  '     Ibid.,  p.  450. 

•*  "  H.K-J.-!I,|,.I.S   pagar   el    preclo    de    los  *•  Vide  onte,  p.  255. 

an  tes  con  qne  fueron  azotail»*."     Ibid.  "  "  Kt  me  disoient  .  .  .  que  lex  nortniivs 

"  ••  II   repmdit  que   la  premiere  chose  a  voullolcnt  venir  lurr,  en  ma  presence,  ton* 

faire  eUilt  de  <ons~rver  1'Kiit  ;  que,  enoulte  leu  prestrr*,  gen«  d'egllae  et  cathollrquen." 

on  B'occuperalt  den  chows  do  U  religion.     Kile  Correspoudaoce  dc  Marguerite  d'Autricbe,  p. 

rvpllqua,  non  sans  Imnifur,  qu'il  lui  parabutait  Itts. 
plus  neYessalre  de  puurvoir    d'abord    a   ce 


270  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

felt  herself  alone  in  her  extremity.  The  party  of  Granvelle  she  had  long 
since  abandoned.  The  party  of  Orange  seemed,  now  ready  to  abandon  her. 
"  I  am  pressed  by  enemies  within  and  without,"  she  wrote  to  Philip  ;  "  there 
is  no  one  on  whom  I  can  rely  for  counsel  or  for  aid."  n  Distrust  and  anxiety 
brought  on  a  fever,  and  for  several  days  and  nights  she  lay  tossing  about, 
suffering  equally  from  distress  of  body  and  anguish  of  spirit.*3 

Thus  sorely  perplexed,  Margaret  felt  also  the  most  serious  apprehensions 
for  her  personal  safety.  Witn  the  slight  means  of  defence  at  her  command, 
Brussels  seemed  no  longer  a  safe  residence,  and  she  finally  came  to  the  reso- 
lution to  extricate  herself  from  the  danger  and  difficulties  of  her  situation  by 
a  precipitate  flight.  After  a  brief  consultation  with  Barlaimont,  Aerschot, 
and  others  of  the  party  opposed  to  the  prince  of  Orange,  and  hitherto  little  in 
her  confidence,  she  determined  to  abandon  the  capital  and  seek  a  refuge  in 
Mons,— a  strong  town  in  Hainault,  belonging  to  the  duke  of  Aerschot,  which, 
from  its  sturdy  attachment  to  the  Romish  faith,  had  little  to  fear  from  the 
fanatics. 

Having  completed  her  preparations  with  the  greatest  secrecy,  on  the  day 
fixed  for  her  flight  Margaret  called  her  council  together  to  communicate  her 
design.  It  met  with  the  most  decided  opposition,  not  merely  from  the  lords 
with  whom  she  had  hitherto  acted,  but  from  the  President  Viglius.  They  all 
united  in  endeavouring  to  tuni  her  from  a  measure  which  would  plainly 
intimate  such  a  want  of  confidence  on  the  part  of  the  duchess  as  must  dis- 
honour them  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  The  preparations  for  Margaret's  flight 
had  not  been  conducted  so  secretly  but  that  some  rumour  of  them  had  taken 
wind ;  and  the  magistrates  of  the  city  now  waited  on  her  in  a  body  and 
besought  her  not  to  leave  them,  defenceless  as  they  were,  to  the  mercy  of 
their  enemies. 

The  prince  was  heard  to  say  that  if  the  regent  thus  abandoned  the  govern- 
ment it  would  be  necessary  to  call  the  states-general  together  at  once,  to  take 
measures  for  the  protection  of  the  country.1*  And  Egmont  declared  that  if 
she  fled  to  Mons  he  would  muster  forty  thousand  men  and  besiege  Mons  in 
person.24  The  threat  was  not  a  vain  one,  for  no  man  in  the  country  could 
nave  gathered  such  a  force  under  his  banner  more  easily  than  Egmont.  The 
question  seems  to  have  been  finally  settled  by  the  magistrates  causing  the 
gates  of  the  town  to  be  secured,  and  a  strong  guard  placed  over  them,  with 
orders  to  allow  no  passage  either  to  the  duchess  or  her  followers.  Thus  a 
prisoner  in  her  own  capital,  Margaret  conformed  to  necessity,  and,  with  the 
best  grace  she  could,  consented  to  relinquish  her  scheme  of  departure.28 

The  question  now  recurred  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued ;  .and  the  more 
she  pondered  on  the  embarrassments  of  her  position,  the  more  she  became 
satisfied  that  no  means  of  extricating  herself  remained  but  that  proposed  by 
the  nobles.  Yet  in  thus  yielding  to  necessity  she  did  so  protesting  that  she 
was  acting  under  compulsion.27  On  the  twenty-third  of  August,  Margaret 

"  "  La  dncheRse  Re  tronve  sang  conseil  ni  **  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

assistance,  pressee  par  1'ennemi  an  drdans  et  p.  454. 

»u  dehors."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  "  "Egmont  a  tenu  le  meme  lanpapp,  en 

torn.  I.  p.  455.  ajontant  qu'on  leverait  40,000  homines,  pour 

'"  "  Nonobstant  touttes  ces  raisons  et  re-  aller  assie'ger  Mons.    Ibid.,  ubi  supra, 

monstrances,  par  plusieurs  et  divers  jours,  je  **  Correspondance  de  Marguerite  d'Antriche, 

n'y  ay  voullu  entendre,  dormant  par  plusieurs  p.  196. — Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  1.  p. 

fols  soupirs  et  s'gne  de  douleur  et  angoisse  de  266.— Vita  Viglii,  p.  48.— Hopper,  Recueil  et 

coeur,  jusques  a  la  que,  par  aulcnns  jours,  la  Memorial,  p.  99. 

riebvre  tn'a  d^tenue,  et  ay  pa«se  plusieurs  '•"  At  Margaret's  command,  a  detailed  ao 

nuicts  sans  repos."    Correspondance  dc  Mar-  count  of  the  circumstances  under  which  these 

gucrite  d*  Autriche,  p.  194..  concessions  were  extorted  from  her  was  drawn 


CONCESSIONS  OF  THE  REGENT.  271 

executed  an  instrument  by  which  she  engaged  that  no  harm  should  come  to 
the  members  of  the  league  for  anything  hitherto  done  by  them.  She  further 
authorized  the  lords  to  announce  to  the  confederates  her  consent  to  the  re- 
ligious meetings  of  the  Reformed,  in  places  where  they  had  been  hitherto 
held,  until  his  majesty  and  the  states-general  should  otherwise  determine.  It 
was  on  the  condition,  however,  that  they  should  go  there  unarmed,  and 
nowhere  offer  disturbance  to  the  Catholics. 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  the  month  the  confederate  nobles  signed  an  agree- 
ment on  their  part,  and  solemnly  swore  that  they  would  aid  the  regent  to  the 
utmost  in  suppressing  the  disorders  of  the  country  and  in  bringing  their 
authors  to  justice ;  agreeing,  moreover,  that  so  long  as  the  regent  should  be 
true  to  the  compact  the  league  should  be  considered  as  null  and  void.1* 

The  feelings  of  Margaret,  in  making  the  concessions  required  of  her,  may 
be  gathered  from  the  perusal  of  her  private  correspondence  with  her  brother. 
No  act  in  her  public  life  ever  caused  her  so  deep  a  mortification ;  and  she 
never  forgave  the  authors  of  it.  "It  was  forced  upon  me,"  she  writes  to 
Philip ;  "  but,  happily,  you  will  not  be  bound  by  it."  And  she  beseeches  him 
to  come  at  once,  in  such  strength  as  would  enable  him  to  conquer  the  country 
for  himself,  or  to  give  her  the  means  of  doing  so.1*  Margaret,  in  early  life, 
had  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  Ignatius  Loyola.  More  than  one  passage  in 
her  history  proves  that  the  lessons  of  the  Jesuit  had  not  been  thrown  away. 

During  these  discussions  the  panic  had  been  such  that  it  was  thought 
advisable  to  strengthen  the  garrison  under  command  of  Count  Mansfeldt,  and 
keep  the  greater  part  of  the  citizens  under  arms  day  and  night  When  this 
arrangement  was  concluded,  the  great  lords  dispersed  on  their  mission  to 
restore  order  in  their  several  governments.  The  prince  went  first  to  Antwerp, 
where,  as  we  have  seen,  he  held  the  office  of  burgrave.  He  made  strict  in- 
vestigation into  the  causes  of  the  late  tumult,  hung  three  of  the  ringleaders, 
and  banished  three  others.  He  found  it,  however,  no  easy  matter  to  come  to 
terms  with  the  sectaries,  who  had  possession  of  all  the  churches,  from  which 
they  had  driven  the  Catholics.  After  long  negotiation,  it  was  arranged  that 
they  should  be  allowed  to  hold  six,  and  should  resign  the  rest  to  the  ancient 
possessors.  The  arrangement  gave  general  satisfaction,  and  the  principal 
citizens  and  merchants  congratulated  William  on  having  rescued  them  from 
the  evils  of  anarchy. 

Not  so  the  regent.  She  knew  well  that  the  example  of  Antwerp  would 
become  a  precedent  for  the  rest  of  the  country.  She  denounced  the  compact, 
as  compromising  the  interests  of  Catholicism,  and  openly  accused  the  prince 
of  having  transcended  his  powers  and  betrayed  the  trust  reposed  in  him. 
Finally,  she  wrote,  commanding  him  at  once  to  revoke  his  concessions. 

William,  in  answer,  explained  to  her  the  grounds  on  which  they  had  been 
made,  and  their  absolute  necessity  in  order  to  save  the  city  from  anarchy.  It 
is  a  strong  argument  in  his  favour  that  the  Protestants,  who  already  claimed 
the  prince  as  one  of  their  own  sect,  accused  him,  in  this  instance,  of  sacrificing 
their  cause  to  that  of  their  enemies  ;  and  caricatures  of  him  were  made,  repre- 
senting him  with  open  hands  and  a  double  face.'*  William,  while  thus  explain- 
up  by  the  secretary  Rerty.  This  document  to  459. — Correepondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 
given  by  Oacbard,  Correspondance  de  i'hilippe  p.  cxliv. 
II.,  torn,  it..  Appendix,  p.  588.  ••  "  Elle  le  eupplie  d'y  venir  proraptement, 

••  The  particulara  of  the  agreement  are  a  main  arme'e,  ann  de  le  conquerir  de  non- 
given  by  Meter.ii,  Hist,  des  Cays-Bait,  ful.  4i.  veau."  Correspondaoce  de  i'hilippe  II.,  torn. 
.See  also  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  i.  p.  463. 

Countries,  vol.  1.  p.  304.— Corresiiondance  de  *  Uaumer,  Sixteenth  and  Scventei  nth  Ccn- 

(iuiilaume  le  Taciturne,  torn.   ii.   pp.    465,        turles,  vol.  1.  p.  177. 


272  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

ing  his  conduct,  did  not  conceal  his  indignation  at  the  charges  brought  against 
him  by  the  regent,  and  renewed  his  request  for  leave  to  resign  iris  ottices, 
since  he  no  longer  enjoyed  her  confidence.  But,  whatever  disgust  she  may 
have  felt  at  his  present  conduct,  William's  services  were  too  important  to 
Margaret  in  this  crisis  to  allow  her  to  dispense  with  them ;  and  she  made 
haste  to  write  to  him  in  a  conciliatory  tone,  explaining  away  as  far  as  possible 
what  had  been  offensive  in  her  former  letters.  Yet  from  this  hour  the  con- 
sciousness of  mutual  distrust  raised  a  barrier  between  the  parties  never  to  be 
overcome.31 

William  next  proceeded  to  his  governments  of  Utrecht  and  Holland,  which, 
by  a  similar  course  of  measures  to  that  pursued  at  Antwerp,  he  soon  restored 
to  order.  While  in  Utrecht,  he  presented  to  the  states  of  the  province  a 
memorial,  in  which  he  briefly  reviewed  the  condition  of  the  country.  He 
urged  the  necessity  of  religious  toleration,  as  demanded  by  the  spirit  of  the 
age,  and  as  particularly  necessary  in  a  country  like  that,  the  resort  of  so  many 
foreigners  and  inhabited  by  sects  of  such  various  denominations.  He  con- 
cluded by  recommending  them  to  lay  a  petition  to  that  effect  before  the 
throne,— not,  probably,  from  any  belief  that  such  a  petition  would  be  heeded 
by  the  monarch,  but  from  the  effect  it  would  have  in  strengthening  the  prin- 
ciples of  religious  freedom  in  his  countrymen.  William's  memorial  is  alto- 
gether a  remarkable  paper  for  the  time,  and  in  the  wise  and  liberal  tenor 
of  its  arguments  strikingly  contrasts  witn  the  intolerant  spirit  of  the  court  of 
Madrid." 

The  regent  proved  correct  in  her  prediction  that  the  exaniple  of  Antwerp 
would  be  made  a  precedent  for  the  country.  William's  friends,  the  Counts 
Hoorne  and  Hoogstraten,  employed  the  same  means  for  conciliating  the 
sectaries  in  their  own  governments.  It  was  otherwise  with  Egmont.  He  was 
too  stanch  a  Catholic*  at  heart  to  approve  of  such  concessions.  He  carried 
matters,  therefore,  with  a  high  hand  in  his  provinces  of  Flanders  and  Artois, 
where  his  personal  authority  was  unbounded.  He  made  a  severe  scrutiny 
into  the  causes  of  the  late  tumult,  and  dealt  with  its  authors  so  sternly  as  to 
provoke  a  general  complaint  among  the  reformed  party,  some  of  whom,  indeed, 
became  so  far  alarmed  for  their  own  safety  that  they  left  the  provinces  ana 
went  beyond  sea. 

Order  now  seemed  to  be  re-established  in  the  land,  through  the  efforts  of 
the  nobles,  aided  by  the  confederates,  who  seem  to  have  faithfully  executed 
their  part  of  the  compact  with  the  regent.  The  Protestants  took  possession 
of  the  churches  assigned  to  them,  or  busied  themselves  with  raising  others  on 
the  ground  before  reserved  for  their  meetings.  All  joined  in  the  good  work, 
the  men  labouring  in  the  building,  the  women  giving  their  jewels  and  orna- 
ments to  defray  the  cost  of  the  materials.  A  calm  succeeded, — a  temporary 
lull  after  the  hurricane ;  and  Lutheran  and  Calvinist  again  indulged  in  the 
pleasing  illusion  that,  however  distasteful  it  might  be  to  tne  government,  they 
were  at  length  secure  of  the  blessings  of  religious  toleration. 

During  the  occurrence  of  these  events  a  great  change  had  taken  place  in 
the  relations  of  parties.  The  Catholic  members  of  the  league,  who  had  pro- 
posed nothing  beyond  the  reform  of  certain  glaring  abuses,  and  least  of  all 
anything  prejudicial  to  their  own  religion,  were  startled  as  they  saw  the 
inevitable  result  of  the  course  they  were  pursuing.  Several  of  them,  as  we 
have  seen,  had  left  the  league  before  the  outbreak  of  the  iconoclasts ;  and 

"  Correspondance  de  Guillaume  le  Taci-  "  The  document  is  given  entire  by  Groen, 

turnr,  torn.  ii.  pp.  220,  223,231,  233;  Preface,        Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn, 
pp.  Ixii.-lxiv.  i.  p.  429,  et  seq. 


MARGARET  REPEATS  HER  CONCESSIONS.  273 

after  that  event  but  very  few  remained  in  it.  The  confederates,  on  the  other 
hand,  lost  ground  with  the  people,  who  looked  with  distrust  on  their  late 
arrangement  with  the  regent,  in  which  they  had  so  well  provided  for  their  own 
security.  The  confidence  of  the  people  \vas  not  restored  by  the  ready  aid 
which  their  old  allies  seemed  willing  to  afford  the  great  nobles  in  bringing  to 
justice  the  authors  of  the  recent  disorders."  Thus  deserted  by  many  of  its 
own  members,  distrusted  by  the  Reformers,  and  detested  by  the  regent,  the 
league  ceased  from  that  period  to  exert  any  considerable  influence  on  the 
affairs  of  the  country. 

A  change  equally  important  had  taken  place  in  the  politics  of  the  court. 
The  main  object  with  Margaret,  from  the  first,  had  been  to  secure  the  public 
tranquillity.  To  effect  this  she  had  more  than  once  so  far  deferred  to  the 
judgment  of  William  and  his  friends  as  to  pursue  a  policy  not  the  most 
welcome  to  herself.  But  it  had  never  been  her  thought  to  extend  that  policy 
to  the  point  of  religions  toleration.  So  far  from  it,  she  declared  that,  even 
though  the  king  should  admit  two  religions  in  the  state,  she  would  rather  be 
torn  in  pieces  than  consent  to  it.34  It  was  not  till  the  coalition  of  the  nobles 
that  her  eyes  were  opened  to  the  path  she  was  treading,  The  subsequent 
outrages  of  the  iconoclasts  made  her  comprehend  she  was  on  the  verge  of  a 
precipice.  The  concessions  wrung  from  her  at  that  time  by  Orange  and  his 
friends  filled  up  the  measure  of  her  indignation.  A  great  gulf  now  opened 
between  her  and  the  party  by  whom  she  had  been  so  long  directed.  Yet 
where  could  she  turn  for  support  ?  One  course  only  remained ;  and  it  was 
with  a  bitter  feeling  that  she  felt  constrained  to  throw  herself  into  the  arms 
of  the  very  party  which  she  had  almost  estranged  from  her  counsels.  In  her 
extremity  she  sent  for  the  President  Viglius,  on  whose  head  she  had  poured 
so  many  anathemas  in  her  correspondence  with  Philip,— whom  she  had  not 
hesitated  to  charge  with  the  grossest  peculation. 

Margaret  sent  for  the  old  councillor,  and,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  demanded 
his  advice  in  the  present  exigency.  The  president  naturally  expressed  his 
surprise  at  this  mark  of  confidence  from  one  who  had  so  carefully  excluded 
him  from  her  counsels  for  the  last  two  years.  Margaret,  after  some  acknow- 
ledgment of  her  mistake,  intimated  a  hope  that  this  would  be  no  impediment 
to  nis  giving  her  the  counsel  she  now  so  much  needed.  Viglius  answered  by 
inquiring  whether  she  was  prepared  faithfully  to  carry  out  what  she  knew  to 
be  the  will  of  the  king.  On  Margaret's  replying  in  the  affirmative,  he  recom- 
mended that  she  should  put  the  same  question  to  each  member  of  her  cabinet 
"  Their  answers,"  said  the  old  statesman,  "  will  show  you  whom  you  are  to 
trust"  The  question — the  touchstone  of  loyalty — was  accordingly  put ;  and 
the  minister,  who  relates  the  anecdote  himself,  tells  us  that  three  only, 
Mansfeldt,  Barlaimont.  and  Aerschot,  were  prepared  to  stand  by  the  regent 
in  carrying  out  the  policy  of  the  crown.  From  tliat  hour  the  regent's  con- 

"  Tiepolo,  the  Venetian  minister  at  the  ...  Wco  che  queftto  fu  perche  ess!  non  beb- 

court  of  Castile  at  this  time.  In  hi*  report  bero  mal  intentione  di  ribellars!  dal  suo  sign 

made  on   tun   return,  expressly  acquits   the  ma  nolamente  con  quest!   mezzl  dl    timure 

Flemish  nobles  of  what  had  been  often  im-  Impedir  che  non  si  Introducesse  in  quel  stall 

puted  to  them,  having  n  band  in  these  troubles.  II  tribunal  dell'  InquUilionc."    Relatione  di 

Their  desire  for  reform    only    extended    to  M.  A.  Tiepolo.  1567.  MS. 

certain  crying  abuses ;  but.  in  the  words  of  "  "  En  nuppoaant  que  le  l!oi   voulut  ad- 

bis  metaphor,  the  stream  which  they  would  mettre  deux  religions  (ce  qu'elle  ne  pouvait 

have  turned  to  the  irrigation  of  the  ground  croirr),  elle  ne  voulait  pas,  ellc,  ftre  I'execu- 

•oon  swelled  to  a  terrible  inundation:  "Con-  trice  d'uw  semblable  determination;  qu'elle 

tra  1'  opinion  de'  principal!  della  lega,  che  ee  luisserait  pliilut  mettre  en  pieces."    Corre- 

volevauo  Indur  tiiuore  ct  non  tanto  danno.  epoudance  de  Philippe  11.,  torn.  i.  p.  453. 

T 


274  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

ndence  was  transferred  from  the  party  with  which  she  had  hitherto  acted,  to 
their  rivals.35 

It  is  amusing  to  trace  the  change  of  Margaret's  sentiments  in  her  corre- 
spondence of  this  period  with  her  brother.  "  Orange  and  Hoorne  prove  them- 
selves, by  word  and  by  deed,  enemies  of  God  and  the  king."  **  Of  Egmont 
she  speaks  no  better.  "  With  all  his  protestations  of  loyalty,"  she  fears  he  is 
only  plotting  mischief  to  the  state.  "  He  has  openly  joined  the  Gtieux,  and 
his  eldest  daughter  is  reported  to  be  a  Huguenot." 3J  Her  great  concern  is  for 
the  safety  of  Viglius,  "  almost  paralyzed  by  his  fears,  as  the  people  actually 
threaten  to  tear  him  in  pieces."  *8  The  factious  lords  conduct  affairs  according 
to  their  own  pleasure  in  the  council ;  and  it  is  understood  they  are  negotiating 
at  the  present  moment  to  bring  about  a  coalition  between  the  Protestants  of 
Germany,  France,  and  England,  hoping  in  the  end  to  drive  the  house  of 
Austria  from  the  throne,  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  Spain  from  the  Netherlands, 
and  divide  the  provinces  among  themselves  and  their  friends  •  **  Margaret's 
credulity  seems  to  have  been  in  proportion  to  her  hatred,  and  her  hatred  in 
proportion  to  her  former  friendship.  So  it  was  in  her  quarrel  with  Granvelle, 
and  she  now  dealt  the  same  measure  to  the  men  who  had  succeeded  that 
minister  in  her  confidence. 

The  prince  of  Orange  cared  little  for  the  regent's  estrangement.  He  bad 
long  felt  that  his  own  path  lay  wide  asunder  from  that  of  the  government, 
and,  as  we  have  seen,  had  more  than  once  asked  leave  to  resign  his  offices  and 
withdraw  into  private  life.  Hoorne  viewed  the  matter  with  equal  indiffe- 
rence. He  had  also  asked  leave  to  retire,  complaining  that  his  services  had 
been  poorly  requited  by  the  government.  He  was  a  man  of  a  bold,  impatient 
temper.  In  a  letter  to  Philip  he  told  him  that  it  was  not  the  regent,  but  his 
majesty,  of  whom  he  complained,  for  compelling  him  to  undergo  the  annoy- 
ance of  dancing  attendance  at  the  coxirt  of  Brussels  ! 40  He  further  added  that 
he  had  not  discussed  his  conduct  with  the  duchess,  as  it  was  not  his  way  to 
treat  of  affairs  of  honour  with  ladies ! 41  There  was  certainly  no  want  of 
plain-dealing  in  this  communication  with  majesty. 

Count  Egmont  took  the  coolness  of  the  regent  in  a  very  different  manner. 
It  touched  his  honour,  perhaps  his  vanity,  to  be  thus  excluded  from  her  confi- 
dence. He  felt  it  the  more  keenly  as  he  was  so  loyal  at  heart  and  strongly 
attached  to  the  Romish  faith.  On  the  other  hand,  his  generous  nature  was 
deeply  sensible  to  the  wrongs  of  his  countrymen.  Thus  drawn  in  opposite 
directions,  he  took  the  middle  course, — by  no  means  the  safest  in  politics. 
Under  these  opposite  influences  he  remained  in  a  state  of  dangerous  irresolu- 
tion. His  sympathy  with  the  cause  of  the  confederates  lost  him  the  confidence 
of  the  government.  His  loyalty  to  the  government  excluded  him  from  the 
councils  of  the  confederates.  And  thus,  though  perhaps  the  most  popular  man 

**  The  report    of  this   curious  dialogue,  than   the  duchess  seems  willing  to  allow, 

somewhat  more  extended  than  in  these  pages,  Vita  Viglil,  p  48. 

is  to  be  found  in  the  Vita  Viglii,  p.  47.  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

38  "  En  paroles  et  en    fails.  Us   BC   sent  pp.  255,  260. 

declares  centre  Dieu  et  contre  le  Roi."    Cor-  ""  "  Disant  n'avoir  aulcun  d'elle,  mais  bien 

respondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1.  p.  453.  de  Vostre  Majeste,  laquelle  n'avoit  este  con- 

*'  Ibid.,  nbi  supra.  tent  me  laisser  en  ma  maison,  mais  m'avoit 

"  "  Le  president,  qu'on  menace  de  tons  comir.ande  me  trouver  a  Bruxelles  vers  Ron 

cotes  d'assommer  et  de  mettre  en  pieces,  est  Altesse,  ou  avoie  receu   tant  de   facherles." 

devenn  d'une  timidite  incroyable."    Ibid.,  p.  Supplement  a  Strada,  torn,  ii  p.  60S. 

460. — VigliuR,  in  his  "Life,"  confirms  this  *'  "  Ne  me  samblant  dpbvoir  traicter  af- 

acconnt  of  the  dangers  with  which  he  was  faires  de  honneur  avecq  Dames."    Ibid.,  nbi 

threatened  by  the  people,  but  takes  much  supra, 
more  credit  to  himself  for  presence  of  mind 


THE  FEELING  AT  MADRID.  275 

in  the  Netherlands,  there  was  no  one  who  possessed  less  real  influence  in  public 
affairs." 

The  tidings  of  the  tumults  in  the  Netherlands,  which  travelled  with  the 
usual  expedition  of  evil  news,  caused  as  great  consternation  at  the  court  of 
Castile  as  it  had  done  at  that  of  Brussels.  Philip,  on  receiving  his  despatches, 
burst  forth,  it  is  said,  into  the  most  violent  fit  of  anger,  and,  tearing  his  beard, 
he  exclaimed,  "  It  shall  cost  them  dear ;  by  the  soul  of  my  father  I  swear  it, 
it  shall  cost  them  dear ! " "  The  anecdote,  often  repeated,  rests  on  the 
authority  of  Granvelle's  correspondent,  Morillon.  If  it  be  true,  it  affords  a 
solitary  exception  to  the  habitual  self-command—displayed  in  circumstances 
quite  as  trying — of  the  "  prudent "  monarch.  The  account  given  by  Hopper, 
who  was  with  the  court  at  the  time,  is  the  more  probable  of  the  two.  Accord- 
ing to  that  minister,  the  king,  when  he  received  the  tidings,  lay  ill  of  a  tertian 
fever  at  Segovia.  As  letter  after  letter  came  to  him  with  particulars  of  the 
tumult,  he  maintained  his  usual  serenity,  exhibiting  no  sign  of  passion  or 
vexation.  Though  enfeebled  by  his  malady,  he  allowed  himself  no  repose,  but 
gave  unremitting  attention  to  business."  He  read  all  the  despatches,  made 
careful  notes  of  their  contents,  sending  such  information  as  he  deemed  best  to 
his  council,  for  their  consideration,  and,  as  his  health  mended,  occasionally 
attended  in  person  to  the  discussions  of  that  body. 

One  can  feel  but  little  doubt  as  to  the  light  in  which  the  proceedings  in  the 
Netherlands  were  regarded  by  the  royal  council  of  Castile.  Yet  it  did  not 
throw  the  whole,  or  even  the  chief,  blame  on  the  iconoclasts.  They  were 
regarded  as  mere  tools  in  the  hands  of  the  sectaries.  The  sectaries,  on  their 
part,  were,  it  was  said,  moved  by  the  confederates,  on  whom  they  leaned  for 
protection.  The  confederates,  in  their  turn,  made  common  cause  with  the 
great  lords,  to  whom  many  of  them  were  bound  by  the  closest  ties  of  friend- 
ship and  of  blood.  By  this  ingenious  chain  of  reasoning,  all  were  made 
responsible  for  the  acts  of  violence ;  but  the  chief  responsibility  lay  on  the 
heads  of  the  great  nobles,  on  whom  all  in  the  last  resort  depended.  It  was 
against  them  that  the  public  indignation  should  be  directed,  not  against  the 
meaner  offenders,  over  whom  alone  the  sword  of  justice  had  been  hitherto 
suspended.  But  the  king  should  dissemble  his  sentiments  until  he  was  in 
condition  to  call  these  great  vassals  to  account  for  their  misdeeds.  All  joined 
in  beseeching  Philip  to  defer  no  longer  his  visit  to  Flanders  ;  and  most  of  them 
recommended  that  he  should  go  in  such  force  as  to  look  down  opposition  and 
crush  the  rebellion  in  its  birth. 

Such  was  the  counsel  of  Alva,  in  conformity  with  that  which  he  had  always 
given  on  the  subject.  But  although  all  concurred  in  urging  the  king  to 

••  ••  They  toll    me,"    write"    Morillon    to  J'en  Jure  par  l'£me  de  mon  pere."    Gacbard, 

Granvelle,  "it  it  quite  incredible   bow  old  Analectes  Iteltoqnes.  p.  254.* 
and  gray  Egmont  has  bocome.     HP  dues  not  "  "De  tout  cela(di«je)  nt-se  perdit  un  seal 

venture  to  Bleep  at  night  without  1>U  swi.nl  monu-nt  en  ce  temps,  non  otwlant  la  dicta 

and  pistols  by  bis  bedside!"    (Archives  de  maladie  de  Sa  Maj",  la  quelle  ae  monf>tra 

la  Matson  d 'Orange- Nassau,  Supplement,  p.  Bruihlableroent  solmi  sou  bon  naturel,  en  tons 

36.)     But  there  was  no  pr>-U*nce  that  at  this  cee  negoces  et  actions  Umojount  taut  modi  ste, 

time  Egmont's  life  waft  in  danger.     Morillon,  et  u-mporee  et  consume  en  iceulx  affaires, 

In  bin  eagerness  to  cater  for  the  cardinal's  quclques  extremes  qu'ilz  fussent,  que  janiaia 

appetite  fur  gossip,  did  not  always  stick  at  Von  n'a  veu  en  Icelle  signal,  ou  de  passion 

the  improbable.  contre   les  personrtes  d'une  j>  irt,  ou  de  re- 

•*  "II  leur  en  coiltera  cber  (s'ecria-t-ll  en  lasclie  en  se>  negooes  de  1'auitre."     Hopper, 

t»  tiraiit  la  barbe),  il  leur  en  coiitera  cber ;  Itecueil  et  MemurUl,  p.  104. 


•  ["Tlrant  la  barbe"  is  merely  pulling,  or  twitching,  the  beard,— an  habitual  gesture  of 
Philip'*,  according  to  some  writers. — ED.! 


276  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

expedite  his  departure,  some  of  the  councillors  followed  the  prince  of  Eboli  in 
advising  Philip  that,  instead  of  this  warlike  panoply,  he  should  go  in  peaceable 
guise,  accompanied  only  by  such  a  retinue  as  befitted  the  royal  dignity.  Each 
of  the  great  rivals  recommended  the  measures  most  congenial  with  his  own 
temper,  the  direction  of  which  would  no  doubt  be  intrusted  to  the  man  who 
recommended  them.  It  is  not  strange  that  the  more  violent  course  should 
have  found  favour  with  the  majority." 

Philip's  own  decision  he  kept,  as  usual,  locked  in  his  own  bosom.  He  wrote 
Indeed  to  his  sister,  warning  ner  not  to  allow  the  meeting  of  the  legislature, 
and  announcing  his  speedy  coming, — all  as  usual ;  and  he  added  that  in 
repressing  the  disorders  of  the  country  he  should  use  no  other  means  than 
those  of  gentleness  and  kindness,  under  the  sanction  of  the  states.48  These 
gentle  professions  weighed  little  with  those  who,  like  the  prince  of  Orange,  had 
surer  means  of  arriving  at  the  king's  intent  than  what  were  afforded  by  the 
royal  correspondence.  Montig^iy,  the  Flemish  envoy,  was  still  at  Madrid,  held 
there,  sorely  against  his  mil,  in  a  sort  of  honourable  captivity  by  Philip.  In 
a  letter  to  his  brother,  Count  Hoorne,  he  wrote,  "  Nothing  can  be  in  worse 
odour  than  our  afiairs  at  the  court  of  Castile.  The  great  lords,  in  particular, 
are  considered  as  the  source  of  all  the  mischief,  violent  counsels  are  alto- 
gether in  the  ascendant,  and  the  storm  may  burst  on  you  sooner  than  you 
think.  Nothing  remains  but  to  fly  from  it  like  a  prudent  man,  or  to  face  it 
like  a  brave  one  ! " 4T 

William  had  other  sources  of  intelligence,  the  secret  agents  whom  he  kept 
in  pay  at  Madrid.  From  them  he  learned  not  only  what  was  passing  at  the 
court,  but  in  the  very  cabinet  of  the  monarch  ;  and  extracts,  sometimes  full 
copies,  of  the  correspondence  of  Philip  and  Margaret  were  transmitted  to  the 

Erince.  Thus  the  secrets  which  the  most  jealous  prince  in  Europe  supposed  to 
e  locked  in  his  own  breast  were  often  in  possession  of  his  enemies ;  and 
William,  as  we  are  told,  declared  that  there  was  no  word  of  Philip's,  public  or 
private,  but  was  reported  to  his  ears  ! 48 

This  secret  intelligence,  on  which  the  prince  expended  large  sums  of  money, 
was  not  confined  to  Madrid.  He  maintained  a  similar  system  of  espionage  in 
Paris,  where  the  court  of  Castile  was  busy  with  its  intrigues  for  the  extermi- 
nation of  heresy.  Those  who  look  on  these  trickish  proceedings  as  unworthy 
of  the  character  of  the  prince  of  Orange  and  the  position  which  he  held  should 

**  At  this  period  stops  the  •'  Recueil  et  have  stopped  in  medlit,  for  Hopper  remained 

Memorial    des  Troubles  des    Pays-Has"  of  still  in  office,  and  died  at  Madrid  ten  years 

Joachim   Hopper,   which  covers  a  hundred  after  the  period  to  which  he  brings  bis  narra- 

quano  pages  of   the    second   volume  (part  live.     He  may  have  been  discouraged  by  the 

second)  of  Hoynck  van  1'apendrecht's  "  Ana-  remarks  of  Viglius,  who  intimates,  in  a  letter 

lecta  Belgica."    Hopper  was  a  jurist,  a  man  to  his  friend,  that  the  chronicler  should  wait 

of  learning  and  integrity.     In  1566  he  was  to  allow  Time  to  disclose  the  secret  springs 

called  to  Madrid,  raised  to  the  post  of  keeper  of  action.     See  the  Kpistola;  ad  Hoppernm, 

of  the  seals  for  the  affairs  of  the  Netherlands,  p.  419. 

and  made  a  member  of  the  council  of  state.  '•  Correspondance    de    Marguerite    d'Au- 

He  never  seems  to  have  enjoyed  the  confi-  triche,  p.  206. 

denre  of  Philip  in  anything  like  the  degree  *'  "Questo  e  il  nuvolo  che  minaccia  ora  i 

which  (Jranvelle  and  some  other  ministers  nostri  paesi ;   e  n'  uscira  la  tempesta  forse 

could  boast;  for  Hopper  was  a  Fleming.    Yet  prima  die  non  si  pensa.     Chi  la  prevede  lie 

his  situation   in  the  cabinet  made  him  ac-  da.  1'  avviso ;  e  chi  n'  e  avvisato,  o  con  iutre- 

quainted  with  the  tone  of  sentiment  as  well  pidezza  1'  incontri,  o  con    avvedimento    la 

as  the  general  policy  of  the  court ;  while,  as  sfugga."    Bentivoglio,  Guerra  di  Fiaiulra,  p. 

*  native  of  Flanders,  he  couM  comprehend,  118. 

better  than  a  Spaniard,  the  bearing  this  policy  *"  "  Nnllum  prodire  e  Regis  ore  verbum 

would  have  on  his  countrymen.     His  work,  sen  private  seu  publice,  quin  ad  ejus  aiires  in 

therefore,  is  of  great  importance  as  far  as  it  Belgium  fideliter  afferatur."    Strada,  De  Bello 

goes.    It  is  difficult  to  say  why  it  should  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  281. 


SAGACITY  OF  ORANGE.  277 

consider  that  it  was  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  age.  It  was  but 
turning  Philip's  own  arts  against  himself,  and  using  the  only  means  by  which 
William  could  hope  to  penetrate  the  dark  and  unscrupulous  policy  of  a 
cabinet  whose  chief  aim,  as  he  thought,  was  to  subvert  the  liberties  of  his 
country. 

It  was  at  this  tune  that  his  agents  in  France  intercepted  a  letter  from 
Alava,  the  Spanish  minister  at  the  French  court.  It  was  addressed  to  the 
duchess  of  Parma.  Among  other  things,  the  writer  says  it  is  well  understood 
at  Madrid  that  the  great  nobles  are  at  the  bottom  of  the  troubles  of  Flanders. 
The  king  is  levying  a  strong  force,  with  which  he  will  soon  visit  the  country 
and  call  the  three  lords  to  a  heavy  reckoning.  In  the  mean  time  the  duchess 
must  be  on  her  guard  not  by  any  change  hi  her  deportment  to  betray  her 
consciousness  of  this  intent.4' 

Thus  admonished  from  various  quarters,  the  prince  felt  that  it  was  no 
longer  safe  for  him  to  remain  in  his  present  position,  and  that,  in  the  words 
of  Montigny,  he  must  be  prepared  to  fight  or  to  fly.  He  resolved  to  take 
counsel  with  some  of  those  fnends  who  were  similarly  situated  with  himself. 
In  a  communication  made  to  Egmont  in  order  to  persuade  him  to  a  confer- 
ence, William  speaks  of  Philip's  military  preparations  as  equally  to  be  dreaded 
by  Catholic  ana  Protestant ;  for,  under  the  pretext  of  religion,  Philip  had  no 
other  object  in  view  than  to  enslave  the  nation.  "  This  has  oeen  always  feared 
by  us,"  he  adds ;  *•  "  and  I  cannot  stay  to  witness  the  ruin  ot  my  country." 

Th*  parties  met  at  Dendermonde  on  the  third  of  October.  Besides  the 
two  friends  and  Count  Hoorne,  there  were  William's  brother  Louis,  and  a  few 
other  persons  of  consideration.  Little  is  actually  known  of  the  proceedings 
at  this  conference,  notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  more  than  one  officious 
chronicler  to  enlighten  us.  Their  contradictory  accounts,  like  so  many  cross- 
lights  on  his  path,  serve  only  to  perplex  the  eye  of  the  student.  It  seems 
probable,  however,  that  the  nobles  generally,  including  the  prince,  considered 
the  time  had  arrived  for  active  measures,  and  that  any  armed  intrusion  on 
the  part  of  Philip  into  the  Netherlands  should  be  resisted  by  force.  But 
Egmont,  with  all  his  causes  of  discontent,  was  too  loyal  at  heart  not  to  shrink 
from  the  attitude  of  rebellion.  He  had  a  larger  stake  than  most  of  the  com- 
pany, in  a  numerous  family  of  children^  who  in  case  of  a  disastrous  revolution 
would  be  thrown  helpless  on  the  world.  The  benignity  with  which  he  had 
been  received  by  Philip  on  his  mission  to  Spain,  and  which  subsequent  slights 
had  not  effaced  from  his  memory,  made  him  confide,  most  unhappily,  in  the 
favourable  dispositions  of  the  monarch.  From  whatever  motives,  the  count 
refused  to  become  a  party  to  any  scheme  of  resistance  ;  and,  as  his  popularity 
with  the  troops  made  his  co-operation  of  the  last  importance,  the  conference 
broke  up  without  coming  to  a  determination.*1 

•*  An  abstract  of  the  letter  I*  given  by  ing,  were  rejected.  Hoorne,  in  his  "Justifl- 

Oachai  <1,  Correspondance  de  Philippe  11.,  torn.  cation,"  refers  the  failure  to  Egmont.  Neither 

i.  p.  4*5.  one  nor  the  other  throws  light  on  the  course 

"  "  Sa  Mau  et  o>ulx  ilu  Consell  aeront  Men  of  discussion.  Bentivoglio,  in  his  account  of 

alse  que  sur  le  pretext  de  la  religion  Us  pour-  the  Interview,  shows  no  such  reserve ;  and 

font  parvenlr  a  leur  pretendu,  tie  mestre  le  he  gives  two  long  and  elaborate  speeches 

pa's,  nous  aultrcs.  et  nous  enfans  en  la  plus  from  Orange  and  Egmont,  in  as  good  set 

miserable  servitude  qu'on  n'auroit  jamais  phra>»e  a*  if  they  had  been  expressly  reported 

veu,  et  come  on  aat  tousjours  craint  cela  plus  by  the  parties  themselves  fur  publication, 

que  chose  que  soil."  Archives  de  la  Maison  The  Italian  historian  affects  a  degree  of  t'i- 

d'Orange-Nitsaau.  torn.  II.  p.  324.  nilllarity  with  the  proceedings  of  this  wcn-t 

"  Egmont's deposition  at  his  trial  confirms  conclave  by  no  means  calculated  to  secure 

the  account  given  in  the  t-  \t.  tint  proposl-  our  confidence.  Guerra  di  r'iai.dra,  pp.  123- 

tlons  for  resistance,  though  made  at  the  meet-  128. 


278  THE  ICONOCLASTS. 

Eginont  at  once  repaired  to  Brussels,  whither  he  had  been  summoned  by 
the  regent  to  attend  the  council  of  state.  Orange  and  Hoorne  received,  each, 
a  similar  summons,  to  which  neither  of  them  paid  any  regard.  Before  taking 
his  seat  at  the  board,  Egmont  showed  the  duchess  Alava's  letter,  upbraiding 
her,  at  the  same  time,  with  her  perfidious  conduct  towards  the  nobles. 
Margaret,  who  seems  to  have  given  way  to  temper  or  to  tears  as  the  exigency 
demanded,  broke  forth  in  a  rage,  declaring  it  "an  impudent  forgery  and  the 
greatest  piece  of  villany  in  the  world ! "  *2  The  same  sentiment  she  repeats 
in  a  letter  addressed  soon  after  to  her  brother,  in  which  she  asserts  her  belief 
that  no  such  letter  as  that  imputed  to  Alava  had  ever  been  written  by  him. 
How  far  the  duchess  was  honest  in  her  declaration  it  is  impossible  at  this  day 
to  determine.  Egmont,  after  passing  to  other  matters,  concludes  with  a 
remark  which  shows,  plainly  enough,  his  own  opinion  of  her  sincerity.  "  In 
fine,  she  is  a  woman  educated  in  Borne.  There  is  no  faith  to  be  given  to 
her."  •» 

In  her  communication  above  noticed,  Margaret  took  occasion  to  complain 
to  Philip  of  his  carelessness  in  regard  to  her  letters.  The  contents  of  them, 
she  said,  were  known  in  Flanders  almost  as  soon  as  at  Madrid  ;  and  not  only 
copies,  but  the  original  autographs,  were  circulating  in  Brussels.  She  con- 
cludes by  begging  her  brother,  if  he  cannot  keep  her  letters  safe,  to  burn 
them.54 

The  king,  in  answer,  expresses  his  surprise  at  her  complaints,  assuring 
Margaret  that  it  is  impossible  any  one  can  have  seen  her  letters,  which  are 
safely  locked  up,  with  the  key  in  his  own  pocket.4*  It  is  amusing  to  see 
Philip's  incredulity  in  regard  to  the  practice  of  those  arts  on  himself  which  he 
had  so  often  practised  on  others.  Ilis  sister,  however,  seems  to  have  relied 
henceforth  more  on  her  own  precautions  than  on  his,  as  we  find  her  com- 
munications from  this  time  frequently  shrouded  in  cipher. 

Rumours  of  Philip's  warlike  preparations  were  now  rife  in  the  Netherlands ; 
and  the  Protestants  began  to  take  counsel  as  to  the  best  means  of  providing 
for  their  own  defence.  One  plan  suggested  was  to  send  thirty  thousand 
Calvinistic  tracts  to  Seville  for  distribution  among  the  Spaniards.58  This 
would  raise  a  good  crop  of  heresy,  and  give  the  king  work  to  do  in  his  own 
dominions.  It  would,  in  short,  be  carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's  country. 
The  plan,  it  must  be  owned,  had  the  merit  of  novelty. 

In  Holland  the  nobles  and  merchants  mutually  bound  themselves  to  stand 
by  one  another  in  asserting  the  right  of  freedom  of  conscience.57  Levies  went 
forward  briskly  in  Germany,  under  the  direction  of  Count  Louis  of  Nassau. 
It  was  attempted,  moreover,  to  interest  the  Protestant  princes  of  that  country 
so  far  in  the  fate  of  their  brethren  in  the  Netherlands  as  to  induce  them  to 
use  their  good  offices  with  Philip  to  dissuade  him  from  violent  measures.  The 

**  "Siesse  qn'elle  jure  que  e'et   la   pine  he  calls  to  mind  bis  curious  correspondence 

grande  vilagnerie  du  monde  .  .  .  et  que  s'et  with  the  elector  and  with  King  Philip  in  re- 

ung  vray  pasqull  fameulx  et  qui  doit  ettre  lation  to  Anne  of  Saxony,  before  his  marriage 

forge  pardecha,  et  beaucoup  de  chozes  sem-  with  that  princess.    Yet   Margaret,  as  Eg- 

blables."    Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-  mont  hints,  was  of  the  Italian  school ;  and 

Nassau,  torn.  ii.  p.  400.  Strada,  her  historian,  dismisses  the  question 

"  En  fin  s'et  une  femme  nourle  en  Rome,  with  a  doubt, — "  in  medio  ego  quidem  relin- 

il  n'y  at  que  ajonter  foy."    Ibid.,  p.  401.  quo."    A  doubt  from  Strada  is  a  decision 

— Yet  Egmont,  on  his  trial,  affirmed  that  he  against  Margaret. 

regarded  the  letter  as  spurious !     (Correspon-  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

dance  de  Marguerit"  d'Autriche,  p.  327.)    One  p.  474. 

who  finds  it  impossible  that  the  prince  of  "  Ibid.,  p.  491. 

Orange  could  lend  himself  to  such  a  piece  "  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  282. 

of  duplicity  may  porhaps  be  staggered  when  •'  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 


SAGACITY  OF  ORANGE.  279 

emperor  had  already  offered  privately  his  own  mediation  to  the  king,  to  bring 
about,  if  possible,  a  better  understanding  with  his  Flemish  subjects.48  The 
offer  made  in  so  friendly  a  spirit,  though  warmly  commended  by  some  of  the 
council,  seems  to  have  found  no  favour  in  the  eyes  of  their  master.4' 

The  princes  of  Germany  who  had  embraced  the  Reformation  were  Lu- 
therans. They  had  almost  as  little  sympathy  with  the  Calvinists  as  with  the 
Catholics.  Men  of  liberal  minds  in  the  Netherlands,  like  William  and  his 
brother,  would  gladly  have  seen  the  two  great  Protestant  parties  which 
divided  their  country  united  on  some  common  basis.  They  would  have  had 
them,  in  short,  in  a  true  Christian  spirit,  seek  out  the  points  on  which  they 
could  agree  rather  than  those  on  which  they  differed, — points  of  difference 
which,  in  William's  estimation,  were  after  all  of  minor  importance.  He  was 
desirous  that  the  Calvinists  should  adopt  a  confession  of  faith  accommodated 
in  some  degree  to  the  "  Confession  of  Augsburg," — a  step  which  would  greatly 
promote  their  interests  with  the  princes  of  Germany.*0 

But  the  Calvinists  were  altogether  the  dominant  party  in  the  Low  Coun- 
tries. They  were  thoroughly  organized,  and  held  their  consistories,  composed 
of  a  senate  and  a  sort  of  lower  house,  in  many  of  the  great  towns,  all  sub- 
ordinate to  the  great  consistory  at  Antwerp.  They  formed,  in  short,  what 
the  historian  well  calls  an  independent  Protestant  republic.61  Strong  in  their 
power,  sturdy  in  their  principles,  they  refused  to  bend  in  any  degree  to 
circumstance^,  or  to  make  any  concession  or  any  compromise  with  the  weaker 
party.  The  German  princes,  disgusted  with  this  conduct,  showed  no  disposi- 
tion to  take  any  active  measures  in  their  behalf,  and,  although  they  made 
some  efforts  in  favour  of  the  Lutherans,  left  their  Calvinistic  brethren  in  the 
Netherlands  to  their  fate. 

It  was  generally  understood  at  this  time  that  the  prince  of  Orange  had 
embraced  Lutheran  opinions.  His  wife's  uncle,  the  landgrave  of  Hesse, 

Eressed  him  publicly  to  avow  his  belief.  To  this  the  prince  objected  that 
e  should  thus  become  the  open  enemy  of  the  Catholics,  and  probably  lose 
his  influence  with  the  Calvinists,  already  too  well  disposed  to  acts  of  violence.'* 
Yet  not  long  after  we  find  William  inquiring  of  the  landgrave  if  it  would  not 
be  well  to  advise  the  king,  in  terms  as  little  offensive  as  possible,  of  his  change 
of  religion,  asking  the  royal  permission,  at  the  same  time,  to  conform  his 
worship  to  it'* 

William's  father  had  been  a  Lutheran,  and  in  that  faith  had  lived  and 
died.  In  that  faith  he  had  educated  his  son.  When  onlv  eleven  years  old, 
the  latter,  as  we  have  seen,  was  received  into  the  imperial  household.  The 
plastic  mind  of  boyhood  readily  took  its  impressions  from  those  around,  and 
without  much  difficulty,  or  indeed  examination,  William  conformed  to  the 
creed  fashionable  at  the  court  of  Castile.  In  this  faith — if  so  it  should  be 
called — the  prince  remained  during  the  lifetime  of  the  emperor.  Then  came 
the  troubles  of  the  Netherlands ;  and  William's  mind  yielded  to  other  in- 
fluences. He  saw  the  workings  of  Catholicism  under  a  terrible  aspect.  He 
beheld  his  countrymen  dragged  from  their  firesides,  driven  into  exile,  thrown 
into  dungeons,  burned  at  the  stake,  and  all  this  for  no  other  cause  than 

**  Hopper,  Recuell  et  Memorial,  p.  109.  Csed  an  lei  cum  Antvi  rpiana  ruriii,  qnam  ease 

*"  Ibid.,  p.  113.  princippm   voluerp,   comniunlcattn)  uni  versa 

*•  Archival  de  1*  Maison  d'Orange-Nuaau,  htertUcorum  Ke-Hpub.  temperaretur."    Strain, 

torn.  ti.  p.  391.  De  Bello  IH^i. ...  tom.  I.  p.  283. 

•'  "PrwtereA  congirtoria,  id  ert  sonatun  ac  **  Archive*  de  la  Maiwm  d'Onmge-Noscau, 

cu-tiiB,  uniltiH  in  urbibus,  sicuti  jam  Antver-  torn.  ii.  pp.  465.  4.'.t>. 

pie   cn-|ierant,   Inrtltuerunt :    cr>  alia    Magis-  •  '  Ibid.,  p.  4U6. 
p,    benatoribifeque,    quorum    <x>u»ili>a 


280         THE  REGENT'S  AUTHORITY  RE-ESTABLISHED. 

dissent  from  the  dogmas  of  the  Romish  Church.  His  soul  sickened  at  these 
enormities,  and  his  indignation  kindled  at  this  invasion  of  the  inalienable 
right  of  private  judgment.  Thus  deeply  interested  for  the  oppressed  Pro- 
testants, it  was  natural  that  William  should  feel  a  sympathy  for  their  cause. 
His  wife,  too,  was  a  Lutheran.  So  was  his  mother,  still  surviving.  So  were 
his  brothers  and  sisters,  and  indeed  all  those  nearest  akin  to  him.  Under 
these  influences,  public  and  domestic,  it  was  not  strange  that  he  should  have 
been  led  to  review  the  grounds  of  his  own  belief  ;  that  he  should  have  gradu- 
ally turned  to  the  faith  of  his  parents, — the  faith  in  which  he  had  been 
nurtured  in  childhood.64  At  what  precise  period  the  change  in  his  opinions 
took  place  we  are  not  informed.  But  his  letter  to  the  landgrave  of  Hesse,  in 
November,  1566,  affords,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  the  earliest  evidence  that 
exists,  under  his  own  hand,  that  he  had  embraced  the  doctrines  of  the  Re- 
formation. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 
THE  REGENT'S  AUTHORITY  RE-ESTABLISHED. 

Reaction — Appeal  to  Arms — Tumult  in  Antwerp — Siege  of  Valenciennes — The  Government 

triumphant. 

1566,  1567. 

THE  excesses  of  the  iconoclasts,  like  most  excesses,  recoiled  on  the  heads  of 
those  who  committed  them.  The  Roman  Catholic  members  of  the  league  with- 
drew, as  we  have  seen,  from  an  association  which  connected  them,  however 
remotely,  with  deeds  so  atrocious.  Other  Catholics,  who  had  looked  with  no 
unfriendly  eye  on  the  revolution,  now  that  they  saw  it  was  to  go  forward  over 
the  ruins  of  their  religion,  were  only  eager  to  show  their  detestation  of  it  and 
their  loyalty  to  the  government  The  Lutherans,  who,  as  already  noticed, 
had  never  moved  in  much  harmony  with  the  Calvinists,  were  anxious  to  throw 
the  whole  blame  of  the  excesses  on  the  rival  sect ;  and  thus  the  breach,  grow- 
ing wider  and  wider  between  the  two  great  divisions  of  the  Protestants,  worked 
infinite  prejudice  to  the  common  cause  of  reform.  Lastly,  men  like  Egmont, 
who  from  patriotic  motives  had  been  led  to  dally  with  the  revolution  in  its 
infancy,  seeming  indeed  almost  ready  to  embrace  it,  now  turned  coldly  away 
and  hastened  to  make  their  peace  with  the  regent. 

Margaret  felt  the  accession  of  strength  she  was  daily  deriving  from  these 
divisions  of  her  enemies,  and  she  was  not  slow  to  profit  by  it.  As  she  had  no 
longer  confidence  in  those  on  whom  she  had  hitherto  relied  for  support,  she 
was  now  obliged  to  rely  more  exclusively  on  herself.  She  was  indefatigable  in 
her  application  to  business.  "  I  know  not,"  writes  her  secretary,  Armenteros, 
"  how  the  regent  contrives  to  live,  amidst  the  disgusts  and  difficulties  which 
incessantly  beset  her.  For  some  months  she  has  risen  before  dawn.  Every 
morning  and  evening,  sometimes  oftener,  she  calls  her  council  together.  The 


EEACTION.  281 

rest  of  the  day  and  night  she  is  occupied  with  giving  audiences,  or  with  re- 
ceiving despatches  and  letters,  or  in  answering  them.  ' 

Margaret  now  bent  all  her  efforts  to-retrace  the  humiliating  path  into  which 
she  had  been  led,  and  to  re-establish  the  fallen  authority  of  the  crown.  If  she 
did  not  actually  revoke  the  concessions  wrung  from  her,  she  was  careful  to 
deiine  them  so  narrowly  that  they  should  be  of  little  service  to  any  one.  She 
wrote  to  the  governors  of  the  provinces  that  her  license  for  public  preaching 
was  to  be  taken  literally,  and  was  by  no  means  intended  to  cover  the  perform- 
ance of  other  religious  rites,  as  those  of  baptism,  marriage,  and  burial,  which 
she  understood  were  freely  practised  by  the  reformed  ministers.  She  published 
an  edict  reciting  the  terrible  penalties  of  the  law  against  all  offenders  in  this 
way,  and  she  enjoined  the  authorities  to  enforce  the  execution  of  it  to  the 
letter.2 

The  Protestants  loudly  complained  of  what  they  termed  a  most  perfidious 
policy  on  the  part  of  the  regent.  The  right  of  public  preaching,  they  said, 
naturally  included  that  of  performing  the  other  religious  ceremonies  of  the 
Reformed  Church.  It  was  a  cruel  mockery  to  allow  men  to  profess  a  religion 
and  yet  not  to  practise  the  rites  which  belong  to  it.  The  construction  given 
by  Margaret  to  her  edict  must  be  admitted  to  savour  somewhat  of  the  spirit 
of  that  given  by  Portia  to  Shylock's  contract.  The  pound  of  flesh  might 
indeed  be  taken  ;  but  if  so  much  as  a  drop  of  blood  followed,  woe  to  him  that 
took  it! 

This  measure  was  succeeded  by  others  on  the  part  of  the  government  of  a 
still  more  decisive  character.  Instead  of  the  civil  magistracy,  Margaret  now 
showed  her  purpose  to  call  in  the  aid  of  a  strong  military  force  to  execute  the 
laws.  She  ordered  into  the  country  the  levies  lately  raised  for  her  in  Germany. 
These  she  augmented  by  a  number  of  Walloon  regiments ;  and  she  placed  them 
under  the  command  of  Aremberg,  Megen,  and  other  leaders  in  whom  she  con- 
fided. She  did  not  even  omit  the  prince  of  Orange,  for,  though  Margaret  had 
but  little  confidence  in  William,  she  did  not  care  to  break  with  him.  To  the 
provincial  governors  she  wrote  to  strengthen  themselves  as  much  as  possible 
by  additional  recruits ;  and  she  ordered  them  to  introduce  garrisons  into  such 
places  as  had  shown  favour  to  the  new  doctrines. 

The  province  of  Hainault  was  that  which  gave  the  greatest  uneasiness  to 
the  regent.  The  spirit  of  independence  was  proverbially  high  among  the 
people,  and  the  neighbourhood  of  France  gave  easy  access  to  the  Huguenot 
ministers,  who  reaped  an  abundant  harvest  in  the  great  towns  of  that  district. 
The  flourishing  commercial  city  of  Valenciennes  was  particularly  tainted  with 
heresy.  Margaret  ordered  Philip  de  Noircarmes,  governor  of  Hainault,  to 
secure  the  obedience  of  the  place  by  throwing  into  it  a  garrison  of  three 
companies  of  horse  and  as  many  of  foot. 

When  the  regent's  will  was  announced  to  the  people  of  Valenciennes,  it  met 
at  first  with  no  opposition.  But  among  the  ministers  in  the  town  was  a 
Frenchman  named  La  Grange,  a  bold  enthusiast,  gifted  with  a  stirring  elo- 
quence, which  gave  him  immense  ascendency  over  the  masses.  This  man 
told  the  people  that  to  receive  a  garrison  would  be  the  death-blow  to  their 
liberties,  and  that  those  of  the  reformed  religion  would  be  the  first  victims. 

1  "  II  y  a  pins  de  trots  moid,  qn'  eltc  w  determiner  lea  reponaea  k  y  falre."     Gjrre- 

leve  avant  le  jour,  et  que  le  plus  oouvpnt  olio  npondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1.  p.  4'.<t>. — 

tlent  consetl  le  matin  et  le  aoir ;  et  tout  le  Sleep  teema  to  have  been  an  nuptrduoUH  to 

rttile  de  la  journee  ft  de  la  nuit,  elle  le  con-  Margaret  aa  to  a  hero  of  romance, 

•acre  a  donner  dea  audiences,  a  lira  lea  lettrea  *  Strada,  De  Hello  Belgico,  toin.  1.  pp.  289. 

et  lea  avis  qul  arrivent  de  toutes  parts,  et  a  290. 


282         THE  REGENT'S  AUTHORITY  RE-ESTABLISHED. 

Thus  warned,  the  citizens  were  now  even  more  unanimous  in  refusing  a 
garrison  than  they  had  before  been  in  their  consent  to  admit  one.  Noir- 
carmes,  though  much  surprised  by  this  sudden  change,  gave  the  inhabitants 
some  days  to  consider  the  matter  before  placing  themselves  in  open  resistance 
to  the  government.  The  magistrates  and  some  of  the  principal  persons  in  the 
town  were  willing  to  obey  his  requisition,  and  besought  La  Grange  to  prevail 
on  the  people  to  consent  to  it.  "  I  would  rather,"  replied  the  high-spirited 
preacher,  "  that  my  tongue  should  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  and  that  I 
should  become  dumb  as  a  fish,  than  open  my  lips  to  persuade  the  people  to 
consent  to  so  cruel  and  outrageous  an  act"  *  Finding  the  inhabitants  still 
obstinate,  the  general,  by  Margaret's  orders,  proclaimed  the  city  to  be  in  a 
state  of  rebellion, — proscribed  the  persons  of  the  citizens  as  traitors  to  their 
sovereign,  and  confiscated  their  property.  At  the  same  time,  active  prepara- 
tions were  begun  for  laying  siege  to  the  place,  and  proclamation  was  made  in 
the  regent's  name,  prohibiting  the  people  of  the  Netherlands  from  affording 
any  aid,  by  counsel,  arms,  or  money,  to  the  rebellious  city,  under  the  penalties 
incurred  by  treason. 

But  the  inhabitants  of  Valenciennes,  sustained  by  the  promises  of  their 
preacher,  were  nothing  daunted  by  these  measures,  nor  by  the  formidable  show 
of  troops  which  Noircarraes  was  assembling  under  their  walls.  Their  town 
was  strongly  situated,  tolerably  well  victualled  for  a  siege,  and  filled  with  a 
population  of  hardy  burghers  devoted  to  the  cause,  whose  spirits  were  raised 
by  the  exhortations  of  the  consistories  in  the  neighbouring  provinces  to  be  of 
good  courage,  as  their  brethren  would  speedily  come  to  their  relief. 

The  high-handed  measures  of  the  government  caused  great  consternation 
through  the  country,  especially  among  those  of  the  reformed  religion.  A 
brisk  correspondence  went  on  between  the  members  of  the  league  and  the 
consistories.  Large  sums  were  raised  by  the  merchants  well  affected  to  the 
cause,  in  order  to  levy  troops  in  Germany,  and  were  intrusted  to  Brederode 
for  the  purpose.  It  was  also  determined  that  a  last  effort  should  be  made  to 
soften  the  duchess  by  means  of  a  petition  which  that  chief,  at  the  head  of 
four  hundred  knights,  was  to  bear  to  Brussels.  But  Margaret  had  had  enough 
of  petitions,  and  she  bluntly  informed  Brederode  that  if  he  came  in  that  guise 
he  would  find  the  gates  of  Brussels  shut  against  him. 

Still  the  sturdy  cavalier  was  not  to  be  balked  in  his  purpose ;  and,  by  means 
of  an  agent,  he  caused  the  petition  to  be  laid  before  the  regent.  It  was  taken 
up  mainly  with  a  remonstrance  on  the  course  pursued  by  Margaret,  so  much 
at  variance  with  her  promises.  It  particularly  enlarged  on  the  limitation  of 
her  license  for  public  preaching.  In  conclusion,  it  besought  the  regent  to 
revoke  her  edict,  to  disband  her  forces,  to  raise  the  siege  of  .Valenciennes,  and 
to  respect  the  agreement  she  had  made  with  the  league  ;  in  which  case  they 
were  ready  to  assure  her  of  their  support  in  maintaining  order. 

Margaret  laid  the  document  before  her  council,  and  on  the  sixteenth  of 
February,  1567,  an  answer,  which  might  be  rather  said  to  be  addressed  to  the 
country  at  large  than  to  Brederode,  was  published.  The  duchess  intimated 
her  surprise  that  any  mention  should  be  made  of  the  league,  as  she  had  sup- 
posed that  body  had  ceased  to  exist,  since  so  many  of  its  members  had  been 
but  too  glad,  after  the  late  outrages,  to  niake  their  peace  with  the  government. 
As  to  her  concession  of  pubh'c  preaching,  it  coula  hardly  be  contended  that 

2  "J'aimerais  mienx  qne  ma  langue  fut  raisonnable."       Chroniqne     contemporaine, 

attach ee  au  palais,  et  devenir  muet.  comme  cited  by  Gacbard.  C'>rrespondance  de  Philippe 

on  poisson,  que  d'onvrir  la  bouche  pour  per-  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  561,  note. 
suader  au  peuple  chose  taut  cruelle  et  de- 


APPEAL  TO  ARMS.  283 

that  was  designed  to  authorize  the  sectaries  to  lay  taxes,  levy  troops,  create 
magistrates,  and  to  perform,  among  other  religious  rites,  that  of  marriage,  in- 
volving the  transfer  of  large  amounts  of  property.  She  could  hardly  be  thought 
mad  enough  to  invest  them  with  powers  like  these.  She  admonished  the 
petitioners  not  to  compel  their  sovereign  to  forego  his  native  benignity  of  dis- 
position. It  would  be  well  for  them,  she  hinted,  to  give  less  heed  to  public 
atiairs,  and  more  to  their  own  ;  and  she  concluded  with  the  assurance  that  she 
would  take  good  care  that  the  ruin  which  they  so  confidently  predicted  for  the 
country  should  not  be  brought  about  by  them.* 

The  haughty  tone  of  the  reply  showed  too  plainly  that  the  times  were 
changed, — that  Margaret  was  now  conscious  of  her  strength,  and  meant  to 
use  it  The  confederates  felt  that  the  hour  had  come  for  action.  To  retrace 
their  steps  was  impossible.  Yet  their  present  position  was  full  of  periL  The 
rumour  went  that  King  Philip  was  soon  to  come,  at  the  head  of  a  powerful 
force,  to  take  vengeance  on  his  enemies.  To  remain  as  they  were,  without 
resistance,  would  be  to  offer  their  necks  to  the  stroke  of  the  executioner.  An 
appeal  to  arms  was  all  that  was  left  to  them.  This  was  accordingly  resolved 
on.  The  standard  of  revolt  was  raised.  The  drum  beat  to  arms  in  the  towns 
and  villages,  and  recruits  were  everywhere  enlisted.  Count  Louis  was  busy 
in  enforcing  levies  in  Germany.  Brederode's  town  of  Viana  was  named  as 
the  place  of  rendezvous.  That  cliief  was  now  in  his  element  His  restless 
spirit  delighted  in  scenes  of  tumult.  He  had  busied  himself  in  strengthening 
the  works  of  Viana  and  in  furnishing  it  with  artillery  and  military  stores. 
Thence  he  had  secretly  passed  over  to  Amsterdam,  where  he  was  occupied  in 
organizing  resistance  among  the  people,  already,  by  their  fondness  for  the 
new  doctrines,  well  disposed  to  it 

Hostilities  first  broke  out  in  Brabant,  where  Count  Megen  was  foiled  in  an 
attempt  on  Bois-le-Duc,  which  had  refused  to  receive  a  garrison.  He  was 
more  fortunate  in  an  expedition  against  the  refractory  city  of  Utrecht,  which 
surrendered  without  a  struggle  to  the  royalist  cliief. 

In  other  quarters  the  insurgents  we.e  not  idle.  A  body  of  some  two 
thousand  men,  under  Marnix,  lord  of  Thoulouse.  brother  of  the  famous  St 
Aldegonde,  made  a  descent  on  the  island  of  Walcheren,  where  it  was  supposed 
Philip  would  land.  But  they  were  baffled  in  their  attempts  on  this  place  by 
the  loyalty  and  valour  of  the  inhabitants.  Failing  in  this  scheme,  Thoulouse 
was  compelled  to  sail  up  the  Scheldt,  until  he  reached  the  little  village  of 
Austruweel,  about  a  league  from  Antwerp.  There  he  disembarked  his  whole 
force,  and  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  dwellings  of  the  inhabitants.  From 
this  place  he  sallied  out,  making  depredations  on  the  adjoining  country, 
burning  the  churches,  sacking  the  convents,  and  causing  great  alarm  to  the 
magistrates  of  Antwerp  by  the  confidence  which  his  presence  gave  to  the 
reformed  party  in  that  city. 

Margaret  saw  the  necessity  of  dislodging  the  enemy  without  delay  from  this 
dangerous  position.  She  despatched  a  body  of  Walloons  on  the  service,  under 
command  of  an  experienced  officer,  Philippe  de  Lannoy,  lord  of  Beauvoir. 
Her  orders  show  the  mood  she  was  in.  "They  are  miscreants"  she  said, 
"who  have  placed  themselves  beyond  the  pale  of  mercy.  Show  them  no 
mercy,  then,  but  exterminate  with  fire  and  sword  !"'  Lannoy,  by  a  rapid 

*  "  Suadere  itaque  illU,  at  i  piiblicin  certi  IpnJ  ruiruim  comminrntur,  per  bice  rulgi  t ur- 

n«go(Us  abxtineant,   ac   re«  quique  sua*  nl  baioenu  Belgium  patiatur."    Strada,  De  Bello 

poMeram  curent :  neve  Kegem  bn-vi  affectd-  Belgico,  turn.  I.  p.  295. 

ram  Ingenitir  beoigniUtia  obllvtoci  cvgant.  '  ••  Nee  ullto  comiittonlbos  flecti  to  pat«re 

So  quidem  ooini  ope  curaturam,  DC,  quam  ad  cleiuuiiuam ;  sol  homine*  toelretu*,  atque 


284         THE  REGENT'S  AUTHORITY  RE-ESTABLISHED. 

march,  arrived  at  Austruweel.  Though  taken  unawares,  Thoulonse  and  his 
men  made  a  gallant  resistance  ;  and  a  fierce  action  took  place  almost  under 
the  walls  of  Antwerp. 

The  noise  of  the  musketry  soon  brought  the  citizens  to  the  ramparts  ;  and 
the  dismay  of  the  Calvinists  was  great  as  they  beheld  the  little  army  of 
Thoulouse  thus  closely  beset  by  their  enemies.  Furious  at  the  spectacle,  they 
now  called  on  one  another  to  rush  to  the  rescue  of  their  friends.  Pouring 
down  from  the  ramparts,  they  hurried  to  the  gates  of  the  city.  But  the  gates 
were  locked.  This  had  been  done  by  the  order  of  the  prince  of  Orange,  who 
had  moreover  caused  a  bridge  across  the  Scheldt  to  be  broken  down,  to  cut  off 
all  communication  between  the  city  and  the  camp  of  Thoulouse. 

The  people  now  loudly  called  on  the  authorities  to  deliver  up  the  keys, 
demanding  for  what  purpose  the  gates  were  closed.  Their  passions  were 
kindled  to  madness  by  the  sight  of  the  wife— now,  alas !  the  widow— of 
Thoulouse,  who,  with  streaming  eyes  and  dishevelled  hair,  rushing  wildly  into 
the  crowd,  besought  them  piteously  to  save  her  husband  and  their  own  brethren 
from  massacre. 

It  was  too  late.  After  a  short  though  stout  resistance,  the  insurgents  had 
been  driven  from  the  field,  and  taken  refuge  in  their  defences.  These  were 
soon  set  on  fire.  Thoulouse,  with  many  of  his  followers,  perished  in  the 
flames.  Others,  to  avoid  this  dreadful  fate,  cut  their  way  through  the  enemy, 
and  plunged  into  the  Scheldt,  which  washes  the  base  of  the  high  land  occupied 
by  the  village.  There  they  miserably  perished  in  its  waters,  or  were  pierced 
by  the  lances  of  the  enemy,  who  hovered  on  its  borders.  Fifteen  hundred 
were  slain.  Three  hundrea,  who  survived,  surrendered  themselves  prisoners 
But  Lannoy  feared  an  attempt  at  rescue  from  the  neighbouring  city ;  and, 
true  to  the  orders  of  the  regent,  he  massacred  nearly  all  of  them  on  the 
spot !' 

While  this  dismal  tragedy  was  passing,  the  mob  imprisoned  within  the 
walls  of  Antwerp  was  raging  and  bellowing  like  the  waves  of  the  ocean  chafing 
wildly  against  the  rocks  that  confine  them.  With  fierce  cries,  they  demanded 
that  the  gates  should  be  opened,  calling  on  the  magistrates  with  bitter  impre- 
cations to  deliver  up  the  keys.  The  magistrates  had  no  mind  to  face  the 
infuriated  populace.  But  the  prince  of  Orange  fortunately,  at  this  crisis,  did 
not  hesitate  to  throw  himself  into  the  midst  of  the  tumult  and  take  on  himself 
the  whole  responsibility  of  the  affair.  It  was  by  his  command  that  the  gates 
had  been  closed,  in  order  that  the  regent's  troops,  if  victorious,  might  not  enter 
the  city  and  massacre  those  of  the  reformed  religion.  This  plausible  explana- 
tion did  not  satisfy  the  people.  Some  called  out  that  the  true  motive  was.  not 
to  save  the  Calvinists  in  the  city,  but  to  prevent  their  assisting  their  brethren 
in  the  camp.  One  man,  more  audacious  than  the  rest,  raised  a  musket  to  the 
prince's  breast,  saluting  him,  at  the  same  time,  with  the  epithet  of  "  traitor  ! " 
But  the  fellow  received  no  support  from  his  companions,  who,  in  general, 
entertained  too  great  respect  for  William  to  offer  any  violence  to  his  person. 

Unable  to  appease  the  tumult,  the  prince  was  borne  along  by  the  tide, 
which  now  rolled  back  from  the  gates  to  the  Meir  Bridge,  where  it  soon 
received  such  accessions  that  the  number  amounted  to  more  than  ten  thousand. 
The  wildest  schemes  were  then  agitated  by  the  populace,  among  whom  no  one 

indeprecabile  supplicinm  commeritos,  ferro  ram  mille  «c  quingenti:  capti  circiter  tre- 

et  igni  quamprimmn  dele."    Strada,  De  Bello  centi,  jugulatique  paene  omnes  Beavorii  jussu, 

Belgico,  torn.  1.  p.  300.  quod  erupturi  Antverpienses,  opemque  reli- 

•  "  Periere  in  ea  pugna,  quae  prima  cum  quiis  victae  factionis    allaturi    crodcrentur  " 

rebellibus  commissa  est  in  Belgio,  Gheusio-  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  301. 


TUMULT  IN  ANTWERP.  285 

appeared  to  take  the  lead.  Some  were  for  seizing  the  Hotel  de  Ville  and 
turning  out  the  magistrates.  Others  were  for  sacking  the  convents,  and 
driving  their  inmates,  as  well  as  all  priests,  from  the  city.  Meanwhile,  they 
had  got  possession  of  some  pieces  of  artillery  from  the  arsenal,  with  which  they 
fortified  the  bridge.  Thus  passed  the  long  night, — the  armed  multitude 
gathered  together  like  a  dark  cloud,  ready  at  any  moment  to  burst  in  fury  on 
the  city,  whi  e  the  defenceless  burghers,  especially  those  who  had  any  property 
at  stake,  were  filled  with  the  most  dismal  apprehensions. 

Yet  the  Catholics  contrived  to  convey  some  casks  of  powder,  it  is  said,  under 
the  Meir  Bridge,  resolving  to  blow  it  into  the  air,  with  all  upon  it,  as  soon  as 
their  enemies  should  make  a  hostile  movement. 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  on  the  prince  of  Orange,  as  the  only  man  at  all 
capable  of  extricating  them  from  their  perilous  situation.  William  had 
stationed  a  guard  over  the  mint,  and  another  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  to  protect 
these  buildings  from  the  populace.  A  great  part  of  this  anxious  night  he 
spent  in  endeavouring  to  bring  about  such  an  understanding  between  the  two 
great  parties  of  the  Catholics  and  the  Lutherans  as  should  enable  them  to  act 
in  concert.  This  was  the  less  difficult  on  account  of  the  jealousy  which  the 
latter  sect  entertained  of  the  Calvinists.  The  force  thus  raised  was  swelled 
by  the  accession  of  the  principal  merchants  and  men  of  substance,  as  well  as 
most  of  the  foreigners  resident  in  the  city,  who  had  less  concern  for  spiritual 
matters  than  for  the  security  of  life  and  fortune.  The  following  morning 
beheld  the  mob  of  Calvinists  formed  into  something  like  a  military  array, 
their  green  and  white  banners  bravely  unfurled,  and  the  cannon  which  they 
had  taken  from  the  arsenal  posted  m  front.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
great  square  before  the  Hotel  de  Ville  were  gathered  the  forces  of  the  prince 
of  Orange,  which,  if  wanting  artillery,  were  considerably  superior  in  numbers 
to  their  adversaries.  The  two  hosts  now  stood  face  to  face,  as  if  waiting  only 
the  signal  to  join  in  mortal  conflict.  But  no  man  was  found  bold  enough  to 
give  the  signal  for  brother  to  lift  his  hand  against  brother.* 

At  this  juncture  William,  with  a  small  guard,  and  accompanied  by  the 
principal  magistrates,  crossed  over  to  the  enemy's  ranks  and  demanded  an 
interview  with  the  leaders.  He  represented  to  them  the  madness  of  their 
present  course,  which,  even  if  they  were  victorious,  must  work  infinite  mis- 
chief to  the  cause.  It  would  be  easy  for  them  to  obtain  by  fair  means  all  they 
could  propose  by  violence  ;  and  for  his  own  part,  he  concluded,  however  well 
disposed  to  them  he  now  might  be,  if  a  single  drop  of  blood  were  shed  in  this 
quarrel,  he  would  hold  them  from  that  hour  as  enemies. 

The  remonstrance  of  the  prince,  aided  by  the  conviction  of  their  own  in- 
feriority in  numbers,  prevai'ed  over  the  stubborn  temper  of  the  Calvinists. 
They  agreed  to  an  accommodation,  one  of  the  articles  of  which  was  that  no 
garrison  should  be  admitted  within  the  city.  The  prince  of  Orange  subscribed 
and  swore  to  the  treaty,  on  behalf  of  his  party ;  and  it  is  proof  of  the  con- 
fidence that  even  the  Calvinists  reposed  in  him,  that  they  laid  down  their 
arms  sooner  than  either  the  Lutherans  or  the  Catholics.  Both  these,  however, 
speedily  followed  their  example.  The  martial  array  which  had  assumed  so 
menacing  an  aspect  soon  melted  away.  The  soldier  of  an  hour,  subsiding  into 

•  [Some  of  the  particulars  In  the  foregoing  thr>  opposite  bank,  the  threatened  egretm  must 

account  wem  open  to  doubt.     According  to  have    been    in   the  direction    of  the    river, 

other  relation*, the  bridge  destroyed  by  Orange  linir  ianlini.    in    big  minute  description   of 

wa*  merely  one  of  the  drawbridges  of  the  Antwerp,   make*  no  mention  of   a  bridge, 

fortiflcatioM,  and  the  awmlily  of  the  pi-ople  though  one  la  figured  In  UU  plan  of  the  city. 

took  place  In  the  1'Iare  d>-  M  ir,  which  is  not  — KD.'I 
near  the  Scheldt.     Yet,  as  Ausiruwccl  lies  on 


286         THE  REGENT'S  AUTHORITY  RE-ESTABLISHED. 

the  quiet  burgher,  went  about  his  usual  business  ;  and  tranquillity  and  order 
once  more  reigned  within  the  walls  of  Antwerp.  Thus  by  the  -coolness  and 
discretion  of  a  single  man  the  finest  city  in  the  Netherlands  was  saved  from 
irretrievable  ruin.7 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  March,  1,567,  that  the  disturbances  occurred  at 
Antwerp.  During  this  time  Noircarmes  was  enforcing  the  blockade  of  Valen- 
ciennes, but  with  little  prospect  of  bringing  it  to  a  speedy  issue.  The  inhabi- 
tants, confident  in  their  strength,  had  made  more  than  one  successful  sally, 
burning  the  cloisters  in  which  the  general  had  lodged  part  of  his  troops,  and 
carrying  back  considerable  booty  into  the  city.  It  was  evident  that  to  reduce 
the  place  by  blockade  would  be  a  work  of  no  little  time. 

Margaret  wrote  to  her  brother  to  obtain  his  permission  to  resort  to  more 
vigorous  measures,  and,  without  further  delay,  to  bombard  the  place.  But 
Philip  peremptorily  refused.  It  was  much  to  his  regret,  he  said,  that  the 
siege  of  so  fair  a  city  had  been  undertaken.  Since  it  had  been,  nothing  re- 
mained but  to  trust  to  a  blockade  for  its  reduction.8 

At  this  time  an  army  of  the  confederates,  some  three  or  four  thousand  strong, 
appeared  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Tournay,  designed  partly  to  protect  that 
town,  which  had  refused  a  garrison,  and  partly  to  create  a  diversion  in  favour 
of  Valenciennes.  No  sooner  had  Noircarmes  got  tidings  of  this,  than,  leaving 
a  sufficient  detachment  to  carry  on  the  blockade,  he  made  a  rapid  march  with 
the  rest  of  his  forces,  came  suddenly  on  the  enemy,  engaged  him  in  a  pitched 
battle,  completely  routed  him,  and  drove  his  scattered  legions  up  to  the  walls 
of  Tournay.  That  city,  now  incapable  of  resistance,  opened  its  gates  at  once, 
and  submitted  to  the  terms  of  the  conqueror,  who  soon  returned,  with  his 
victorious  army,  to  resume  the  siege  of  Valenciennes. 

But  the  confidence  of  the  inhabitants  was  not  shaken.  On  the  contrary, 
under  the  delusive  promises  of  their  preacher,  it  seemed  to  rise  higher  than 
ever,  and  they  rejected  with  scorn  every  invitation  to  surrender.  Again  the 
regent  wrote  to  her  brother  that  unless  he  allowed  more  active  operations, 
there  was  great  danger  the  place  would  be  relieved  by  the  Huguenots  on  the 
frontier,  or  by  the  Gueux,  who^e  troops  were  scattered  through  the  country. 

Urged  by  the  last  consideration,  Philip  yielded  a  reluctant  assent  to  his 
sisters  wishes.  But  in  his  letter,  dated  on  the  thirteenth  of  March,  he  insisted 
that,  before  resorting  to  violence,  persuasion  and  menace  should  be  first  tried, 
and  that,  in  case  of  an  assault,  great  care  should  be  had  that  no  harm  came 
to  the  old  and  infirm,  to  women  or  children,  to  any,  in  short,  who  were  not 
found  actually  in  arms  against  the  government.9  The  clemency  shown  by 
Philip  on  this  occasion  reflects  infinite  credit  on  him  ;  and  if  it  be  disposed  of 
by  some  as  mere  policy,  it  must  be  allowed  to  be  a  policy  near  akin  to  huma- 
nity. It  forms  a  striking  contrast  with  the  ferocious  mood  in  which  Margaret 
indulged  at  this  time,  when  she  seems  to  have  felt  that  a  long  arrear  of  ven- 
geance was  due  for  the  humiliations  she  had  been  compelled  to  endure. 

The  regent  lost  no  time  in  profiting  by  the  royal  license.  She  first,  however, 

7  For  the  account  of  the  troubles  In  Ant-  •  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  1.  p.  310. 

werp,    see    Correspondance    de    Marguerite  *  Strada  gives  an  extract  from  the  letter : 

d'Autriche,  p.  2'26,   et  seq. — Archives  de  la  "  Deinde  si  deditio  non  sequeretur,  invadercnt 

Maison  d'Orange-Na«sau,  torn.  iii.  p.  69. —  quidem  urbem,  quodquemilitumest.  agerent; 

Strada.  De  Bello  Bclgico,  torn.  i.  pp.  300-303.  a  csedibus  tamen  non  puerorum  modo,  penum- 

—  Brandt.  Reformation  in  the  Low  Countries.  qne  ac  mulierum  abstinerent ;    sed  civium 

vol.  i.  p.  247. — Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  nullus,   nisi  dum   inter    propugnandum    se 

torn.  i.  pp.  526,  527.— Vander  Haer,  l)e  Initiis  hostem  gereret.  enecaretur."    Strada,  De  Bello 

Tumultuum,  pp.  314-317.— Renom  de  Francia,  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  311. 
Alborotos  de  Flandes,  MS. 


SIEGE  OF  VALENCIENNES.  287 

proposed,  in  obedience  to  her  instructions,  to  see  what  could  be  done  by  milder 
measures.  She  sent  two  envoys,  Count  Egmont  and  the  duke  of  Aerschot,  to 
Valenciennes,  in  order  to  expostulate  with  the  citizens  and  if  possible  bring 
them  to  reason.  The  two  nobles  represented  to  the  people  the  folly  of  attempt- 
ing to  cope,  thus  single-handed,  as  it  were,  with  the  government.  Their  allies 
had  been  discomfited  one  after  another.  With  the  defeat  before  Tournay  must 
have  faded  the  last  ray  of  hope.  They  besought  the  citizens  to  accept,  while 
there  was  time?  the  grace  proffered  them  by  the  duchess,  who  was  willing,  if 
the  town  submitted,  that  such  as  chose  to  leave  it  might  take  their  effects  and 
go  wherever  they  listed. 

But  the  people  of  Valenciennes,  fortified  by  the  promises  of  their  leaders,  and 
with  a  blind  confidence  in  their  own  resources,  which  had  hitherto  proved 
effectual,  held  lightly  both  the  arguments  and  offers  of  the  envoys,  who  returned 
to  the  camp  of  Noircarmes  greatly  disgusted  with  the  ill  success  of  their  mission. 
There  was  no  room  for  further  delay,  and  preparations  were  made  for  reducing 
the  place  by  more  active  operations. 

Valenciennes  stands  on  the  crest  of  an  eminence  that  sweeps  down  by  a 
gradual  slope  towards  the  river  Scheldt,  which,  washing  the  walls  of  the  city, 
forms  a  good  defence  on  that  quarter.  The  ramparts  encompassing  the  town, 
originally  strong  and  of  great  thickness,  were  now  somewhat  impaired  by  age. 
They  were  protected  by  a  wide  ditch,  which  hi  some  places  was  partially 
choked  up  with  rubbish.  The  walls  were  well  lined  with  artillery,  and  the 
magazines  provided  with  ammunition.  In  short,  the  place  was  one  which  in 
earlier  days,  from  the  strength  of  its  works  as  well  as  its  natural  position, 
might  have  embarrassed  an  army  more  formidable  than  that  which  now  lay 
before  it 

The  first  step  of  Noircarmes  was  to  contract  his  lines  and  closely  to  invest 
the  town.  He  next  availed  himself  of  a  dark  and  stormy  night  to  attack  one 
of  the  suburbs,  which  he  carried  after  a  sharp  engagement  and  left  in  the 
charge  of  some  companies  of  Walloons. 

The  following  day  these  troops  opened  a  brisk  fire  on  the  soldiers  who 
defended  the  ramparts,  which  was  returned  by  the  latter  with  equal  spirit. 
But,  while  amusing  the  enemy  in  this  quarter,  Noircarmes  ordered  a  battery 
to  be  constructed,  consisting  at  first  of  ten,  afterwards  of  twenty,  heavy  guns 
and  mortars,  besides  some  lighter  pieces.  From  this  battery  he  opened  a 
well-directed  and  most  disastrous  nre  on  the  city,  demolishing  some  of  the 
principal  edifices,  which,  from  their  size,  afforded  a  prominent  mark  The 
great  tower  of  St.  Nicholas,  on  which  some  heavy  ordnance  was  planted,  soon 
crumbled  under  this  fierce  cannonade,  and  its  defenders  were  buried  in  its 
ruins.  At  length,  at  the  end  of  four  hours,  the  inhabitants,  unable  longer  to 
endure  the  storm  of  shot  and  shells  which  penetrated  every  quarter  of  the 
town,  so  far  humbled  their  pride  as  to  request  a  parley.  To  this  Noircarmes 
assented,  but  without  intermitting  his  fire  for  a  moment. 

The  deputies  informed  the  general  that  the  city  was  willing  to  capitulate  on 
the  terms  before  proposed  by  the  Flemish  nobles.  But  Noircarmes  contemp- 
tuously told  them  that  "  things  were  not  now  as  they  then  were,  and  it  was 
not  his  wont  to  talk  of  terms  with  a  fallen  enemy."  l*  The  deputies,  greatly 
discomfited  by  the  reply,  returned  to  report  the  failure  of  their  mission  to  their 
townsmen. 

Meanwhile  the  iron  tempest  continued  with  pitiless  fury.    The  wretched 

'•  "QuaM    yeri,    inqult,    vestra    ronditlo        trandlRo   cadente    cum    horte."    Strtda,   De 
eaili-m  hodieMt,  »c  nudlurtertlu*.    Ser6s»pitis        Bello  Belglco,  torn.  I.  p.  314. 
Valenoenates:    ego  certe  conJitkinitms  non 


288         THE  REGENT'S  AUTHORITY  RE-ESTABLISHED. 

people  could  find  no  refuge  from  it  in  their  dwellings,  which  filled  the  streets 
with  their  ruins.  It  was  not,  however,  till  two-and-thirtv  hours  more  had 
passed  away  that  a  practicable  breach  was  made  in  the  walls ;  while  the  rub- 
Dish  which  had  tumbled  into  the  fosse  from  the  crumbling  ramparts  afforded  a 
tolerable  passage  for  the  besiegers,  on  a  level  nearly  with  the  breach  itself. 
By  this  passage  Noircarmes  now  prepared  to  march  into  the  city,  through  the 
open  breach,  at  the  head  of  his  battalions. 

The  people  of  Valenciennes  too  late  awoke  from  their  delusion,  They  were 
no  longer  cheered  by  the  voice  of  their  fanatical  leader,  for  he  had  provided 
for  his  own  safety  by  flight ;  and,  preferring  any  fate  to  that  of  being  delivered 
over  to  the  ruthless  soldiery  of  Noircarmes,  they  offered  at  once  to  surrender 
the  town  at  discretion,  throwing  themselves  on  the  mercy  of  their  victor.  Six- 
and-thirty  hours  only  had  elapsed  since  the  batteries  of  the  besiegers  had 
opened  their  fire,  and  during  that  time  three  thousand  bombs  had  been 
thrown  into  the  city;11  which  was  thought  scarcely  less  than  a  miracle  in 
that  day. 

On  tne  second  of  April,  1567,  just  four  months  after  the  commencement  of 
the  siege,  the  victorious  army  marched  into  Valenciennes.  As  it  defiled 
through  tne  long  and  narrow  streets,  which  showed  signs  of  the  dismal  fray  in 
their  shattered  edifices  and  in  the  dead  and  dying  still  stretched  on  the 
pavement,  it  was  met  by  troops  of  women  and  young  maidens  bearing  green 
branches  in  their  hands  and  deprecating  with  tears  and  piteous  lamentations 
the  wrath  of  the  conquerors.  Noircarmes  marched  at  once  to  the  town-house, 
where  he  speedily  relieved  the  municipal  functionaries  of  all  responsibility,  by 
turning  them  out  of  office.  His  next  care  was  to  seize  the  persons  of  the 
zealous  ministers  and  the  other  leaders.  Many  had  already  contrived  to  make 
their  escape.  Most  of  these  were  soon  after  taken,  the  preacher  La  Grange 
among  the  rest,  and  to  the  number  of  thirty-six  were  sentenced  either  to  the 
scaffold  or  the  gallows.12  The  general  then  caused  the  citizens  to  be  disarmed, 
and  the  fortifications,  on  which  were  mounted  eighty  pieces  of  artillery,  to  be 
dismantled.  The  town  was  deprived  of  its  privileges  and  immunities,  and  a 
heavy  fine  imposed  on  the  inhabitants  to  defray  the  charges  of  the  war.  The 
Protestant  worship  was  abolished^he  churches  were  restored  to  their  former 
occupants,  and  none  but  the  Roman  Catholic  service  was  allowed  henceforth 
to  be  performed  in  the  city. 

The  bishop  of  Arras  was  invited  to  watch  over  the  spiritual  concerns  of  the 
inhabitants,  and  a  strong  garrison  of  eight  battalions  was  quartered  in  the 
place,  to  secure  order  and.  maintain  the  authority  of  the  crown.11 

11  "Feruntque  ter  millies  explosas  murales  Flandps,  MS.)    Brandt,  the  historian  of  the 
tnacliina?,  moenium  quam  hominum  majorl  Reformation  (vol.  i.  p.  251),  tells  us  that  two 
strage."    Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  hundred  were  taid  to  have  perished  by  the 
314.*  hands  of  the  hangman  at  Valenciennes,  on 

12  So  states  Margaret's  historian,  who  would  account  of  the  religious  troubles,  in  the  course 
not  be  likely  to  exaggerate  the  number  of  of  this  year. 

those  who  suffered.     The  loyal  president  of  ll  For  information,  more  or  less  minute,  in 

Mechlin  dismisses  thetnattermore  summarily,  regard  to    the    siege   of   Valenciennes,   see 

without  specifying  any  number  of  victims:  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  pp.  303-315. 

"  El  sefior  de  Noilcarmes  se  aaeguro  de  mu-  — Vander  Haer,  De  Initiis  Tumultuum,  pp. 

chos  prisioneros  principalt-s  Borgeses   y  de  319-322. — Meteren,  Hist.  d>  s  Pays-Bas,   fol. 

otros  que  avian  sido  losautoresde  larebelion,  49. — Correspondance  de  Guillaume   le  Taci- 

u  los  quales  se  hizo  luego  en  diiigencia  su  turne,  torn.  ii.  p.  501. — Reuom  de  Francia, 

pleyto."    (Renom  de  Francia,  Alborotos  de  Alborotos  de  Flandes,  MS. 


*  [The  "  mnrales  machinas,"  "bombardse,"        of  the  different  kinds  then  in  use.    Bomb- 
etc.,  mentioned  by  Strada,  were  merely  cannon       shells  were  not  invented  till  later.— ED.] 


OATH  IMPOSED  BY  MARGARET.  289 

The  keys  of  Valenciennes,  it  was  commonly  said,  opened  to  the  regent  the 
gates  of  all  the  refractory  cities  of  the  Netherlands.  Maastricht,  Turnhout, 
Ghent,  Ypres,  Oudenarde,  and  other  places  which  had  refused  to  admit  a 
garrison  within  their  walls,  now  surrendered,  one  after  another,  to  Margaret, 
and  consented  to  receive  her  terms.  In  like  manner  Megen  established  the 
royal  authority  in  the  province  of  Gueldres,  and  Aremberg,  after  a  more  pro- 
longed resistance,  in  Groningen  and  Friesland.  In  a  few  weeks,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Antwerp  and  some  places  in  Holland,  the  victorious  arms  of  the  regent 
had  subdued  the  spirit  of  resistance  in  every  part  of  the  country.14  The  move- 
ment of  the  insurgents  had  been  premature. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TRANQUILLITY   RESTORED. 

Oath  Imposed  by  Margaret — Refused  by  Orange— He  leaves  the  Netherlands — Submission  of  the 
Country — New  hclict — Order  restored. 

1567. 

THE  perplexities  in  which  the  regent  had  been  involved  had  led  her  to  con- 
ceive a  plan,  early  in  January,  1567,  the  idea  of  which  may  have  been 
suggested  by  the  similar  plan  of  Viglius.  This  was  to  require  an  oath  from 
the  great  nobles,  the  knignts  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  and  those  in  high  stations, 
civil  or  military,  that  they  would  yield  implicit  and  unqualified  obedience  to 
the  commands  of  the  king,  of  whatever  nature  they  might  be.  Her  object  in 
this  measure  was  not  to  secure  a  test  of  loyalty.  She  knew  full  well  who  were 
the  friends  and  who  were  the  foes  of  the  government.  But  she  wished  a 
decent  apology  for  ridding  herself  of  the  latter ;  and  it  was  made  a  condition 
that  those  who  refused  to  take  the  oath  were  to  be  dismissed  from  office. 

The  measure  seems  to  have  met  with  no  opposition  when  first  started  in 
the  council ;  where  Mansfeldt,  Aerschot,  Megen,  Barlaimont,  all  signified 
their  readiness  to  sign  the  oath.  Egmont  indeed  raised  some  scruples.  After 
the  oath  of  allegiance  he  had  once  taken,  a  new  one  seemed  superfluous.  The 
bare  word  of  a  man  of  honour  and  a  chevalier  of  the  Toison  ought  to  suffice.1 
But,  after  a  short  correspondence  on  the  subject,  his  scruples  vanished  before 
the  arguments  or  persuasions  of  the  regent. 

Brederode,  who  held  a  military  command,  was  not  of  so  accommodating  a 
temper.  He  indignantly  exclaimed  that  it  was  a  base  trick  of  the  government, 
and  he  understood  the  drift  of  it.  He  refused  to  subscribe  the  oath,  and  at 
once  threw  up  his  commission.  The  Counts  Hoorne  and  Hoogstraten  declined 
also,  hut  in  more  temperate  terms,  and,  resigning  their  employments,  withdrew 
to  their  estates  in  the  country. 

The  person  of  most  importance  was  the  prince  of  Orange,  and  it  was 
necessary  to  approach  him  with  the  greatest  caution.  Margaret,  it  is  true,  had 

14  Strada,  De  Bello  Belglco,  torn.  I.  pp.  315,  d'honneur,  chevalier  de  1'Ordre,  naturel  vawal 

323,  ft  -  'i  du  Mai.  et  qui  toute  da  vie  avait  fait  le  devoir 

'  "II  ne  comprenalt  pan  pourquol  la  fon-  d'homme  de  blen,  comme  II  le  faiult  encore 

veniante  limixtait,  aptw  qu'll  lui  avait  ecrlt  Journelletnent."    Com-epondance  de  Philippe 

UIH-  lettre  de  aa  main,  contenant  tout  ce  que  II.,  todt.  I.  p.  321. 
S.    A.    pouvalt    dosirer   d'uu    gentUbomma 


290  TRANQUILLITY  RESTORED. 

'ong  since  withdrawn  from  him  her  confidence.  But  he  had  too  ranch  con- 
sideration and  authority  in  the  country  for  her  to  wish  to  break  with  him. 
Nor  would  she  willingly  give  him  cause  of  disgust.  She  accordingly  addressed 
him  a  note,  couched  in  the  most  insinuating  terms  she  had  at  her  command. 

She  could  not  doubt  he  would  be  ready  to  set  a  good  example,  when  his 
example  would  be  so  important  in  the  perplexed  condition  of  the  country. 
Rumours  had  been  circulated  to  the  prejudice  of  his  loyalty.  She  did  not 
give  them  credit.  She  could  not  for  a  moment  believe  that  he  would  so  far 
dishonour  his  great  name  and  his  illustrious  descent  as  to  deserve  such  a 
reproach  ;  and  she  had  no  doubt  he  would  gladly  avail  himself  of  the  present 
occasion  to  wipe  away  all  suspicion.2 

The  despatch  enclosed  a  form  of  the  oath,  by  which  the  party  was  to  bind 
himself  to  "  serve  the  king,  and  act  for  or  against  whomever  his  majesty 
might  command,  without  restriction  or  limitation," 3  on  pain  of  being  dismissed 
from  office. 

William  was  not  long  in  replying  to  a  requisition  to  obey  which  would  leave 
him  less  freedom  than  might  be  claimed  by  the  meanest  peasant  in  the 
country.  On  the  twenty-eighth  of  April,  the  same  day  on  which  he  received 
the  letter,  he  wrote  to  the  regent,  declining  in  the  most  positive  terms  to  take 
the  oath.  Such  an  act,  he  said,  would  of  itself  imply  that  he  had  already 
violated  the  oath  he  had  previously  taken.  Nor  could  ne  honourably  take  it, 
since  it  might  bind  him  to  do  what  would  be  contrary  to  the  dictates  of  his 
own  conscience,  as  well  as  to  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  true  interests  of  his 
majesty  and  the  country.4  He  was  aware  that  such  a  demand  on  the  regent's 
1  art  was  equivalent  to  a  dismissal  from  office.  He  begged  her,  therefore,  to 
send  some  one  fully  empowered  to  receive  his  commissions,  since  he  was  ready 
forthwith  to  surrender  them.  As  for  himself,  he  should  withdraw  from  the 
Netherlands  and  wait  until  his  sovereign  had  time  to  become  satisfied  of  his 
fidelity.  But,  wherever  he  might  be,  he  should  ever  be  ready  to  devote  both 
life  and  property  to  the  service  of  the  king  and  the  common  weal  of  the 
country.4 

Whatever  hesitation  the  prince  of  Orange  may  have  before  felt  as  to  the 
course  he  was  to  take,  it  was  clear  the  time  had  now  come  for  decisive  action. 
Though  the  steady  advocate  of  political  reform,  his  policy,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  been  to  attempt  this  by  constitutional  methods,  not  by  violence.  But  all 
his  more  moderate  plans  had  been  overthrown  bv  the  explosion  of  the  icono- 
clasts. The  outrages  then  perpetrated  had  both  alienated  the  Catholics  and 
disgusted  the  more  moderate  portion  of  the  Protestants  ;  while  the  divisions 
of  the  Protestants  among  themselves  had  so  far  paralyzed  their  action  that 
the  whole  strength  of  the  party  of  reform  had  never  been  fairly  exerted  in  the 
conflict.  That  conflict,  unprepared  as  the  nation  was  for  it,  had  been  most 
disastrous.  Everywhere  the  arms  of  the  regent  had  been  victorious.  It  was 
evident  the  hour  for  resistance  had  not  yet  come. 

Yet  for  William  to  remain  in  his  present  position  ivas  hazardous  in  the 

1  "  Ferez  cesser  les  calumnies  que  dictes  se  supra. 

semer  centre  vous,  ensamble  tous  ces  bruits  *  "  Je  seroys  anlcnnement  oblige  et  con- 

que  scavez  courrir  de  vous,  encoires  que  en  etrainct,  le  cas  advenant,  que  on  me  viendroict 

mon  endroict  je  les  tiens  faulx  et  que  a  tort  a  commander  chose  qui  pourrolt  venlr  centre 

its  se  dyent ;  ne  pouvant  croire  que  en  ung  ma  conscience  ou  au  deservice  de  Sa  Ma«  et 

cocur  noble  et  de  telle  extraction  que  vous  du  pays."     Ibid.,  p.  46. 

eetee,8ucce8seurdesSeigneurs,"etc.  Archives  '  "  Vous  asseurant  que,  ou  que  seray,  n'es- 

de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  Hi.  p.  44.  pargneray  jamais  mon  corps  ni  mon  bien  pour 

"Servir  et  m'einployer  envers  et  centre  le  service  de  Sa  Ma«  et  le  bien  commun  de 

tous,  ft  comme  me  sera  ordonne  de^a  part,  res  pays."    Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Oranee- 

san«  limitation  ou  restrlnctlon."    Jbid.,  nbi  Nassau,  torn.  iii.  p.  47. 


OATH  REFUSED  BY  ORANGE.          291 

extreme.  Rumours  had  pone  abroad  that  the  duke  of  Alva  would  soon  be  in 
the  Netherlands,  at  the  head  of  a  force  sufficient  to  put  down  all  opposition. 
"  Beware  of  Alva,"  said  his  wife's  kinsman,  the  landgrave  of  Hesse,  to 
William  ;  "  I  know  him  well."  *  The  prince  of  Orange  also  knew  him  wel, — 
too  well  to  trust  him.  He  knew  the  hard,  inexorable  nature  of  the  man  who 
was  now  coming  with  an  army  at  his  back  and  clothed  with  the  twofold 
authority  of  judge  and  executioner.  The  first  blow  would,  he  knew,  be  aimed 
at  the  highest  mark.  To  await  Alva's  coming  would  be  to  provoke  his  fate. 
Yet  the  prince  felt  all  the  dreariness  of  his  situation.  "I  am  alone,"  he 
wrote  to  the  Landgrave  William  of  Hesse,  "  with  dangers  menacing  me 
on  all  sides,  yet  without  one  trusty  friend  to  whom  I  can  open  my  heart.  7 

Margaret  seems  to  have  been  less  prepared  than  might  have  been  expected 
for  the  decision  of  Orange.  Yet  she  determined  not  to  let  him  depart  from  the 
country  without  an  effort  to  retain  him.  She  accordingly  sent  her  secretary, 
Berty,  to  the  prince  at  Antwerp,  to  enter  into  the  matter  more  freely,  and,  if 
possible,  prevail  on  him  to  review  the  grounds  of  his  decision.  William  freely, 
and  at  some  length,  stated  his  reasons  for  declining  the  oath.  "  If  I  thus 
blindly  surrender  myself  to  the  will  of  the  king,  I  may  be  driven  to  do  what 
is  most  repugnant  to  my  principles,  especially  in  the  stem  mode  of  dealing 
with  the  sectaries.  1  may  be  compelled  to  denounce  some  of  my  own  family, 
even  my  wife,  as  Lutherans,  and  to  deliver  them  into  the  hands  of  the 
executioner.  Finally,"  said  he,  "  the  king  may  send  some  one  in  his  royal 
name  to  rule  over  us,  to  whom  it  would  be  derogatory  for  me  to  submit."  The 
name  of  "  Alva  "  escaped,  as  if  involuntarily,  from  his  lips, — and  he  was  silent.8 

Berty  endeavoured  to  answer  the  objections  of  the  prince,  but  the  latter, 
interrupting  him  l>efore  he  had  touched  on  the  duke  of  Alva,  bluntly  declared 
that  the  king  would  never  be  content  while  one  of  his  great  vassals  was 
wedded  to  a  heretic.  It  was  his  purpose,  therefore,  to  leave  the  eountry  at 
once,  and  retire  to  Germany  ;  and  with  this  remark  he  abruptly  closed  the 
conference. 

The  secretary,  though  mortified  at  his  own  failure,  besought  William  to 
consent  to  an  interview,  before  his  departure,  with  Count  Egmont,  who,  Berty 
trusted,  might  be  more  successful.  To  this  William  readily  assented.  Tins 
celebrated  meeting  took  place  at  Willbroek,  a  village  between  Antwerp  and 
Brussels.  Besides  the  two  lords  there  were  only  present  Count  Mansfeldt 
and  the  secretary. 

After  some  discussion,  in  which  each  of  the  friends  endeavoured  to  win  over 
the  other  to  his  own  way  of  thinking,  William  expressed  the  hope  that 
Egmont  would  save  himself  in  time  from  the  bloody  tempest  that,  ne  pre- 
dicted, was  soon  to  fall  on  the  heads  of  the  Flemish  nobles.'  "  I  trust  in  tlie 
clemency  of  my  sovereign,"  answered  the  count :  "  he  cannot  deal  harshly 
with  men  who  have  restored  order  to  the  country."  "  This  clemency  you  so 
extol,"  replied  William,  "will  be  your  ruin.  Much  I  fear  that  the  Spaniards 
will  make  use  of  you  as  a  bridge  to  effect  their  entrance  into  the  country  ! "  '• 
With  this  ominous  prediction  on  his  lips,  he  tenderly  embraced  the  count, 

•  Archive*  de  U  Mal*on  d'Orange-N«8eau,  *  "Ora**«   ilium,   nubducorrt  ffte,    pravi- 
l"iii.  Hi   p.  42.                                                                 damquc  ouore  tcmpp-tntrm  an  Hlnpania  im- 

'  '•  In  am*  hung  dan  wir  In  dUnen  linden  jx-ndrniciii  Kelfrarum  Procprum  capitlbus  ne 

till' in   s.  inilt,   und   In    ht<hxt«n    tiuton    und  opprrirrtur."     Ibid.,  p.  3'21. 

grfehrd'  n    l«-lb«    und    lehpns    ateckrn,    nnd  "  "  Pi-rdot  if,  Inquit  Oranpiiis,  h«fc  quern 

k«  ini-ii  verlrauwen  freundt  umb  un»  haben,  jnctas  rlrmentla  l<«-|ri*,  Kfrmnnti ;  ac  vldoor 

<i>  in-    wir   nii-i-r  grmdlhe   und  licrtz   recbt  milil  provider?  anlmo. utinnin  falco.  tppontrm 

IT  ffi'i  ii  dr.rflen."     Ibid.,  p.  39.  wilirrt    futurum,  quo    Hlppani    calcatu.   In 

•  S.rada,  I*  Bellu  Ifclg-co.  turn.  I.  p.  310.  R  Igium    trmnnmittaut."     Ibid.,  p.  321. 


292  .  TRANQUILLITY  RESTORED. 

with  tears  m  his  eyes,  bidding  him  a  last  farewell.  And  thus  the  two  friends 
parted,  like  men  who  were  never  to  meet  again. 

The  different  courses  pursued  by  the  two  nobles  were  such  as  might  be 
expected  from  the  difference  of  both  their  characters  and  their  circumstances. 
Burnout,  ardent,  hopeful,  and  confiding,  easily  surrendered  himself  to  the 
illusions  of  his  own  fancy,  as  if  events  were  to  shape  themselves  according  to 
his  wishes.  He  had  not  the  far-seeing  eye  of  William,  which  seemed  to  pene- 
trate into  events  as  it  did  into  characters.  Nor  had  Egmont  learned,  like 
William,  not  to  put  his  trust  in  princes.  He  was,  doubtless,  as  sincerely 
attached  to  his  country  as  the  prince  of  Orange,  and  abhorred,  like  him,  the 
system  of  persecution  avowed  by  the  government.  But  this  persecution  fell 
upon  a  party  with  whom  he  had  little  sympathy.  William,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  a  member  of  that  party.  A  blow  aimed  at  them  was  aimed  also  at 
him.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  different  were  the  stakes  of  the  two  nobles  in  the 
coming  contest,  both  in  respect  to  their  sympathies  and  their  interests. 
Egmont  was  by  birth  a  Fleming.  His  estates  were  in  Flanders,  and  there, 
too,  were  his  hopes  of  worldly  fortune.  Exile  to  him  would  have  been  beggary 
and  ruin.  But  a  large,  if  not  the  larger,  part  of  William's  property  lay  with- 
out the  confines  of  the  Netherlands.  In  withdrawing  to  Germany,  he  went  to 
his  native  land.  His  kindred  were  still  there.  With  them  he  had  maintained 
a  constant  correspondence,  and  there  he  would  be  welcomed  by  tioops  of 
friends.  It  was  a  home,  and  no  place  of  exile,  that  William  was  to  find  in 
Germany. 

Shortly  after  this  interview,  the  prince  went  to  his  estates  at  Breda,  there 
to  remain  a  few  days  before  quitting  the  country.11  From  Breda  he  wrote  to 
Egmont,  expressing  the  hope  that,  when  he  had  weighed  them  in  his  mind,  he 
would  be  contented  with  the  reasons  assigned  for  his  departure.  The  re.  t 
he  would  leave  to  God,  who  would  order  all  for  his  own  glory.  "  Be  sure,"  he 
added,  "  you  have  no  friend  more  warmly  devoted  to  you  than  myself  ;  for  the 
love  of  you  is  too  deeply  rooted  in  my  heart  to  be  weakened  either  by  time  or 
distance." I2  It  is  pleasing  to  see  that  party  spirit  had  not,  as  in  the  case  of 
more  vulgar  souls,  the  power  to  rend  asunder  the  ties  which  had  so  long  bound 
these  great  men  to  each  other ;  to  see  them  still  turning  back,  with  looks  of 
accustomed  kindness,  when  they  were  entering  the  paths  that  were  to  lead  in 
such  opposite  directions. 

William  wrote  also  to  the  king,  acquainting  him  with  what  he  had  done, 
and  explaining  the  grounds  of  it ;  at  the  same  time  renewing  the  declaration 
that,  wherever  be  might  be,  he  trusted  never  to  be  found  wanting  to  the 
obligations  of  a  true  and  faithful  vassal.  Before  leaving  Breda,  the  prince 
received  a  letter  from  the  politic  regent,  more  amiable  in  its  import  than 
might  have  been  expected.  Perhaps  it  was  not  wholly  policy  that  made  her 
unwilling  to  part  with  him  in  anger.  She  expressed  her  readiness  to  do  him 
any  favour  in  her  power.  She  had  always  felt  for  him,  she  said,  the  same 
atiection  as  for  her  own  son,  and  should  ever  continue  to  do  so." 

11  The  secretary  Pratz,  in  a  letter  of  the  animo  meo  tit  minui  nullo  temporis  nut  loco- 
fourteenth  of  April,  thus  kindly  notices  rum  intervallo  posMt."  Archives  de  la 
William's  departure:  "The  prince  has  gone,  Maison  d'Orangr-Nassau,  torn.  iii.  p.  70.— It 
taking  along  with  him  half  a  dozen  heretical  is  not  easy  to  understand  why  William  should 
doctors  and  a  good  number  of  other  seditious  have  resorted  to  Latin  in  his  correspondence 
rogues."  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  with  Egmont. 
torn.  i.  p.  526.  13  "  Ayant  tousjonrs  porte  en  vostre  en- 

"  "Tibi  vero  hoc  persuade  amiciorem  me  droit  I'aff.ction  que  j<>  ppurrois  faire  pourung 

tf  habrre  neminem  cui  qnidvis  libere  imperare  mien  fils,  ou  parent  bien  proche.    Et  vous 

putes.     Amor  enim   tui  eas  egit  radices  in  vous  povez  de  ce  confier,  toutes  lea  fois  que 


WILLIAM  LEAVES  THE  NETHERLANDS.  293 

On  the  last  of  April,  William  departed  for  Germany.  He  took  with  him  all 
his  household  except  his  eldest  son,  the  count  of  Buren,  then  a  boy  thirteen 
years  old,  who  was  pursuing  his  studies  at  the  university  of  Louvain.14  Per- 
haps ^/Uliain  trusted  to  the  immunities  of  Brabant,  or  to  the  tender  age  of 
the  youth,  for  his  protection.  If  so,  he  grievously  miscalculated.  The  boy 
would  serve  as  too  important  a  hostage  for  his  father,  and  Philip  caused  him 
to  be  transferred  to  Madrid,  where,  under  the  monarch's  eye,  he  was  educated 
in  religious  as  well  as  in  political  sentiments  very  little  HI  harmony  with  those 
of  the  prince  of  Orange.  Fortunately,  the  younger  brother,  Maurice,  who 
inherited  the  genius  of  his  father,  and  was  to  carry  down  his  great  name  to 
another  generation,  was  allowed  to  receive  his  training  under  the  paternal 
roof.15 

Besides  his  family,  William  was  accompanied  by  a  host  of  friends  and 
followers,  some  of  the:n  persons  of  high  consideration,  who  preferred  banish- 
ment with  him  to  encountering  the  troubles  that  awaited  them  at  home. 
Thus  attended,  he  fixed  his  residence  at  Dilleniburg,  in  Nassau,  the  seat  of 
his  ancestors,  and  the  place  of  his  own  birth.  He  there  occupied  himself  with 
studying  the  Lutheran  doctrine  under  an  experienced  teacher  of  that  per- 
suasion ; "  and,  while  he  kept  a  watchful  eye  on  the  events  passing  in  his 
unhappy  country,  he  endeavoured  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  that  glorious  Reformation,  of  which,  in  connection  with  political 
freedom,  he  was  one  day  to  become  the  champion. 

The  departure  of  the  prince  of  Orange  caused  general  consternation  in  the 
Netherlands.  All  who  were  in  any  way  compromised  by  the  late  disturbances 
watched  more  anxiously  than  ever  the  signs  of  the  coming  tempest,  as  they 
felt  they  had  lost  the  pilot  who  alone  could  enable  them  to  weather  it.  Thou- 
sands prepared  to  imitate  his  example  by  quitting  the  country  before  it  was 
too  late.  Among  those  who  fled  were  the  Counts  Culemborg,  Berg,  Hoog- 
straten,  Louis  of  Nassau,  and  others  of  inferior  note,  who  passed  into  Germany, 
where  they  gathered  into  a  little  circle  round  the  prince,  waiting,  like  him,  for 
happier  days. 

Some  of  the  great  lords,  who  liad  held  out  against  the  regent,  now  left  alone, 
intimated  their  willingness  to  comply  with  her  demands.  "  Count  Hoorne," 
she  writes  to  Philip,  "has  offered  his  services  to  me,  and  declares  his  readiness 
to  take  the  oath.  If  he  has  spoken  too  freely,  he  says,  it  was  not  from  any 
disaffection  to  the  government,  but  from  a  momentary  feeling  of  pique  and 
irritation.  I  would  not  drive  him  to  desperation,  and  from  regard  to  his 
kindred  I  have  consented  that  he  should  take  his  seat  in  the  council  again."  " 
The  haughty  tone  of  the  duchess  shows  that  she  felt  herself  now  so  strongly 

les  occasions  Be  presenteront,  que  feray  le  is  rather  a  cool  way  of  proceeding  for  a  parent, 

in  -"tn.-."     Correspondance  de  uuillaunie  le  it  must  be  admitted.     Yet  it  is  not  very  dis- 

Taciturne,  torn.  ii.  p.  371.  similar  from  tbat  pursued  by  William's  own 

14  William's  only  daughter  was  maid  of  father,    who,  a    stanch     Lutheran    himself, 

honour  to  the  regent,  who  ma<le  no  objection  Allowed  his  son  to  furm  part  of  tli»  imperial 

to  her  accompanying  her  father,  saying  that  household  and  to  be  there  nurtur.-d   in   the 

on  the  young  lady's  return  she  would  And  no  Roman  Catholic  faith.     See  Strada,  De  Bello 

diminution  of  the  love  that  had  been  always  Belgico.  torn.  i.  p.  37:i. 

shown  to  her.     Ibid.,  ubl  supra.  '•  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau, 

"  According  to  Strada,  some  thought  that  torn.  lit.  p.  loo. 

William  knew  well  what  he  wait  about  when  "  "Pour  no  le  jecterd'advantaigeendeses- 

he  !•  ft  his  son  to-hind  him  at  Louvaln,  and  poir  et  perdition,  aimsy  en  ounteiu|ilation  do 

tbat  be  would  have  had  no  objection  that  the  scs  parens  et  alliez,  je  n'ai  peu  rxcuser  luy 

boy  should  berennved  to  Madrid,  —considering  dire  qu'il  serolt  doncques  ainsy   qu'il  avail 

that.  If  things  went  badly  with  himself,  it  faict,  el  qu'il   reviiiKt  au   conxeil."     Corre- 

would  be  well  for  the  h  ir  of  tin-  house  to  spondance  J  •  Al  argue  Itc  d'Autrich'-,  p.  iUd. 
have  a  hold  on  the  monarch's  favour.    This 


294  TRANQUILLITY  RESTORED. 

seated  as  to  be  nearly  indifferent  whether  the  person  she  dealt  with  were 
friend  or  foe.1* 

Egmont,  at  this  time,  was  endeavouring  to  make  amends  for  the  past  by 
such  extraordinary  demonstrations  of  loyalty  as  should  ettace  all  remembrance 
of  it.  He  rode  through  the  land  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  breaking  up  the 
consistories,  arresting  the  rioters,  and  everywhere  re-establishing  the  Catholic 
worship.  He  loudly  declared  that  those  who  would  remain  his  friends  must 
give  unequivocal  proofs  of  loyalty  to  the  crown  and  the  Roman  Catholic  faith. 
8ome  of  those  with  whom  he  had  been  most  intimate,  disgusted  with  this 
course,  and  distrusting,  perhaps,  such  a  deposit  for  their  correspondence,  sent 
back  the  letters  they  had  received  from  him,  and  demanded  their  own  in 
return." 

At  Brussels  Egmont  entered  into  all  the  gayeties  of  the  court,  displaying 
his  usual  magnificence  in  costly  fetes  and  banquets,  which  the  duchess  of 
Parma  sometimes  honoured  with  her  presence.  The  count's  name  appears 
among  those  which  she  mentions  to  Pnilip  as  of  persons  well  affected  to  the 
government.  "  It  is  impossible,"  she  says,  "  not  to  be  satisfied  with  his  con- 
duct." 2*  Thus  elated  by  the  favour  of  the  regent,— next  in  importance  to 
that  of  royalty  itself, — the  ill-fated  nobleman  cherished  the  fond  hope  that 
the  past  would  now  be  completely  effaced  from  the  memory  of  his  master,— a 
master  who  might  forget  a  benefit,  but  who  was  never  known  to  forgive  an 
injury. 

The  great  towns  throughout  the  land  had  now  generally  intimated  their 
willingness  to  submit  to  the  requisitions  of  Margaret,  and  many  of  them  had 
admitted  garrisons  within  their  walls.  Antwerp  only,  of  the  cities  of  Brabant, 
remained  intractable.  At  length  it  yielded  to  the  general  impulse,  and  a 
deputation  was  sent  to  the  regent  to  sue  for  her  forgiveness  and  to  promise 
that  the  leaders  in  the  late  disturbances  should  be  banished  from  the  city. 
This  was  a  real  triumph  to  the  royal  party,  considering  the  motley  character 
of  the  population,  in  which  there  was  so  large  an  infusion  of  Calvinism.  But 
Margaret,  far  from  showing  her  satisfaction,  coolly  answered  that  they  must 
first  receive  a  garrison  ;  then  she  would  intercede  for  them  with  the  king,  and 
would  herself  consent  to  take  up  her  residence  in  the  city.  In  this  the  in- 
habitants, now  well  humbled,  affected  willingly  to  acquiesce  ;  and  soon  after 
Count  Mansfeldt,  at  the  head  of  sixteen  companies  of  foot,  marched  into 
Antwerp  in  battle-array,  and  there  quartered  his  soldiers  as  in  a  conquered 
capital. 

A  day  was  fixed  for  the  regent's  entry,  which  was  to  be  made  with  all 
becoming  pomp.  Detachments  of  troops  were  stationed  in  the  principal 
avenues,  and  on  the  thirteenth  of  April  Margaret  rode  into  Antwerp,  escorted 
by  twelve  hundred  Walloons,  and  accompanied  by  the  knights  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  the  great  lords,  and  the  provincial  magistrates.  As  the  glittering 
procession  passed  through  the  files  of  the  soldiery,  along  the  principal  streets, 
it  was  greeted  with  the  huzzas  of  the  fickle  populace.  Thus  cheered  on  her 
way,  the  regent  proceeded  first  to  the  cathedral,  where  Te  Deum  was  chanted, 
and  on  her  knees  she  returned  thanks  to  the  Almighty  that  this  great  city 
had  been  restored  without  battle  or  bloodshed  to  the  king  and  the  true 

"  William  was  generous  enough  to  com-  Breda,  April  14th,  In  Archives  de  la  Maison 

mend  Hoorne  for  this  step,  expressing  the  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn  iii.  p.  71. 

hope  that  It  might  induce  such  a  spirit  of  "  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  1.  p.  322. 

harmony  In  the  royal  council  as  would  pro-  *°  Correspondancede  Marguerite d'Autriche, 

mote  the  interests  of  both  king  and  country.  p.  235. 
See  the  letter,  written  in  Latin,  dated  from 


NEW  EDICT.  295 

faith.*1  As  her  eyes  wandered  over  the  desecrated  altars  and  the  walls 
despoiled  of  their  ornaments,  their  rich  sculpture  and  paintings,  by  the  rude 
hand  of  violence,  Margaret  could  not  restrain  her  tears.  Her  first  care  was  to 
recover,  as  far  as  possible,  the  stolen  property,  and  repair  the  injuries  to  the 
building ;  the  next,  to  punish  the  authors  of  these  atrocities ;  and  the  execu- 
tion in  the  market-place  of  four  of  the  ringleaders  proclaimed  to  the  people  of 
Antwerp  that  the  reign  of  anarchy  was  over. 

Margaret  next  caused  the  churches  of  the  reformed  party  to  be  levelled  with 
the  ground.  Those  of  the  Romish  faith,  after  being  purified,  and  the  marks 
of  violence,  as  far  as  practicable,  effaced,  were  restored  to  their  ancient  occu- 
pants. The  Protestant  schools  were  everywhere  closed.  The  children  who 
had  been  baptized  with  Protestant  rites  were  now  rebaptized  after  the 
Catholic."  In  fine,  the  reformed  worship  was  interdicted  throughout  the  city, 
and  that  of  the  Romish  Church,  with  its  splendid  ritual,  was  established  in  its 
place. 

On  occupying  Antwerp,  Margaret  had  allowed  all  who  were  not  implicated 
in  the  late  riots  to  leave  the  city  with  their  effects.  Great  numbers  now 
availed  themselves  of  this  permission,  and  the  streets  presented  the  melancholy 
spectacle  of  husbands  parting  from  their  wives,  parents  from  their  children, 
or,  it  might  be,  taking  their  families  alon°;  with  them  to  some  kinder  land, 
where  they  would  be  allowed  to  worship  God  according  to  the  dictates  of  their 
own  consciences. 

But  even  this  glimmering  of  a  tolerant  spirit,— if  so  it  can  be  called, — which 
Margaret  exhibited  at  the  outset,  soon  faded  away  before  the  dark  spirit  of 
the  Inquisition.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  May,  she  published  an  edict  written 
in  the  characters  of  blood  whicn  distinguished  the  worst  times  of  Charles  and 
Philip.  By  this  edict,  all  who  had  publicly  preached,  or  who  had  performed 
the  religious  exercises  after  the  Protestant  manner,  all  who  had  furnished  the 
places  of  meeting,  or  had  harboured  or  aided  the  preachers,  all  printers  of 
heretical  tracts,  or  artists  who  with  their  pencil  had  brought  ridicule  on  the 
Church  of  Rome, — all,  in  short,  who  were  guilty  of  these  or  similar  iniquitie0, 
were  to  be  punished  with  death  and  confiscation  of  property.  Lighter  offences 
were  to  be  dealt  with  according  to  the  measure  of  tlieir  guilt.  The  edict  con- 
taining these  humane  provisions  is  of  considerable  length,  and  goes  into  a 
large  specification  of  offences,  from  which  few,  if  any,  of  the  reformed  could 
have  been  entirely  exempt.21  When  this  ordinance  of  the  regent  became 
known  at  Madrid,  it  caused  great  dissatisfaction.  The  king  pronounced  it 
"indecorous,  illegal,  and  altogether  repugnant  to  the  true  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity;"*4 and  he  ordered  Margaret,  forthwith  to  revoke  the  edict.  It  was 
accordingly  repealed  on  the  twenty-third  of  July  following.  The  reader  who 
may  be  disposed  to  join  heartily  in  the  malediction  may  not  be  prepared  to 
learn  that  the  cause  of  the  royal  indignation  was  not  that  the  edict  was  too 
severe,  but  that  it  was  too  lenient !  It  nowhere  denounced  the  right  of  private 
worship.  A  man  might  still  be  a  heretic  at  heart  and  at  his  own  fireside,  so 
long  as  he  did  not  obtrude  it  on  the  public.  This  did  not  suit  the  Inquisition, 
whose  jealous  eye  penetrated  into  the  houses  and  the  hearts  of  men,  dragging 

"  "Egit    Ipsa   privatim    magnae    Virgin!  whole    of  this    sanguinary  document.     Sre 

grates,  quod  ejus  ope  tantani    urbem  sine  Ojirespondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  pp. 

pra:lioac  aanguine.  Religion!  Regique  nddl-  650,  551. 

diwet."    Struda,  De  bello  Bclgico,  torn.  1.  p.  "  "  I*  peine  et  le  mecontentemdit  qti'll  a 

3'W.  Ipronve*.  de  ce  qne  Ton  a  fait  une  chore  Hi 

*-  Brandt,  Reformation  In  the  Low  Coun-  illicit*,  *i  indeccnto,  et  rl  contrnire  a  1*  re- 
tries t'un.  I.  p  254.  ligion  chretienne."  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

**  Gacbaid  lias  transferred  to  his  notes  the 


29G  TRANQUILLITY  RESTORED. 

forth  their  reoret  thoughts  into  open  day  and  punishing  these  like  overt 
acts.  Margaret  had  something  yet  to  learn  in  the  school  of  persecution.25 

While  at  Antwerp,  the  regent  received  an  embassy  from  the  elector  of 
Saxony,  the  landgrave  of  Hesse,  and  other  Protestant  princes  of  Germany, 
interceding  for  the  oppressed  Lutherans  and  praying  that  she  would  not  con- 
sent to  their  being  so  grievously  vexed  by  the  Catholic  government.  Mar- 
garet, who  was  as  little  pleased  at  the  plain  terms  in  which  this  remonstrance 
was  conveyed  as  with  the  object  of  it,  coldly  replied  that  the  late  conduct  of 
the  Flemish  Protestants  doubtless  entitled  them  to  all  this  sympathy  from 
the  German  princes,  but  she  advised  the  latter  to  busy  themselves  with 
their  own  affairs,  and  leave  the  king  of  Spain  to  manage  his  as  he  thought 
best.28 

Of  all  the  provinces,  Holland  was  the  only  one  which  still  made  resistance 
to  the  will  of  the  regent.  And  here,  as  we  nave  already  seen,  was  gathered  a 
military  array  of  some  strength.  The  head-quarters  were  at  Brederode's  town 
of  Viana.  But  that  chief  had  left  his  followers  for  the  present,  and  had  been 
secretly  introduced  into  Amsterdam,  where,  as  before  noticed,  he  was  busy  in 
rousing  a  spirit  of  resistance  in  the  citizens,  already  well  prepared  for  it  by 
their  Protestant  preachers.  The  magistrates,  sorely  annoyed,  would  gladly 
have  rid  themselves  of  Brederode's  presence,  but  he  had  too  strong  a  hold  on 
the  people.  Yet,  as  hour  after  hour  brought  fresh  tidings  of  the  disasters  of 
his  party,  the  chief  himself  became  aware  that  all  hopes  of  successful  resist- 
ance must  be  deferred  to  another  day.  Quitting  the  city  by  night,  he  con- 
trived, with  the  aid  of  his  friends,  to  make  his  escape  into  Germany.  Some 
months  he  passed  in  Westphalia,  occupied  with  raising  forces  for  a  meditate  I 
invasion  of  the  Netherlands,  when,  in  the  summer  of  1568,  he  was  carried 
off  by  a  fever,  brought  on,  it  is  said,  by  his  careless,  intemperate  way  of 
life.27 

Brederode  was  a  person  of  a  free  and  fearless  temper,  —with  the  defects, 
and  the  merits  too,  that  attach  to  that  sort  of  character.  The  friendship  with 
which  he  seems  to  have  been  regarded  by  some  of  the  mo^t  estimable  persons 
of  his  party — Louis  of  Nassau,  especially — speaks  well  for  his  heart.  The 
reckless  audacity  of  the  man  is  shown  in  his  correspondence ;  and  the  free 
manner  in  which  he  deals  with  persons  and  events  makes  his  letters  no  less 
interesting  than  important  for  the  light  they  throw  on  these  troubled  times. 
Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  after  all,  Brederode  is  indebted  much  more  to  the 
circumstances  of  his  situation  than  to  his  own  character  for  the  space  he 
occupies  in  the  pages  of  history.28 

Thus  left  without  a  leader,  the  little  army  which  Brederode  had  gathered 

"  Viglius  was  not  too  enlightened  to  enter  p.  428. 

his  protest  against  the  right  to  freedom  of  M  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau. 

conscience,  which,  in  a  letter  to  his  fdend  torn.  iii.  pp.  80-93. — Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico, 

Hopper,  he  says  may  lead  every  one  to  set  up  torn.  i.  p.  329. 

his  own  gods— "lares  aut  lemures" — accord-  "  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  332. 

ing  to  his  fancy.    Yet  the  president  was  wise  M  Groen's    inestimable  collection  contains 

enough  to  see  that  sufficient  had  been  done  several  of   Brederode's   letters,   which    may 

at  present  in   breaking  up  the  preachings.  remind  one  in  their  tone  of  the  dashing  cava- 

"Time  and  Philip's  presence   must  do  the  Her  of  the  time  of  Charles  the  First.     They 

rest."     (Epistolie    ad    Hopperum,    p.     433.)  come  from  the  heart,  mingling  the  spirit  of 

"Those,"  he  says  in  another  1-tter,   "who  daring  enterprise  with  the  careless  payety  of 

have  set  the  king  against    the    edict  have  the  fcon  vivant,  and  throw  far  mure  light  than 

greatly  deceived  him.    They  are  having  their  the  stiff,  statesmanlike  correspondence  of  the 

ovation  before  they  have  gained  the  victory.  period  on   the  characte-,  not  merely  of  the 

They  think  th»y  can  dispose  of  Flemish  affairs  writer,  but  of  the  disjointed  times  in  which 

as  they  like  at  Toledo,  when  hardly  a  Spaniard  he  lived, 
dares  to  show  bis  hea>i  in  Bru-s.-is."    Ibid., 


CRUEL  REPRISALS.  297 

under  his  banner  soon  fell  to  pieces.  Detachments,  scattering  over  the  country, 
committed  various  depredations,  plundering  the  religious  houses,  and  engaging 
in  encounters  with  the  royal  troops  under  Megen  and  Aremberg,  in  which  the 
insurgents  fared  the  worst.  Thus  broken  on  all  sides,  those  who  did  not.  fall 
into  the  enemy's  hands,  or  on  the  field,  were  too  glad  to  make  their  escape 
into  Germany.'  One  vessel,  containing  a  great  number  of  fugitives,  was 
wrecked,  and  all  on  board  were  made  prisoners.  Among  them  were  two 
brothers  of  the  name  of  Battenberg ;  they  were  of  a  noble  family,  and  promi- 
nent members  of  the  league.  They  were  at  once,  with  their  principal 
followers,  thrown  into  prison,  to  await  their  doom  from  the  bloody  tribunal  of 
Alva. 

Deprived  of  all  support  from  without,  the  city  of  Amsterdam  offered  no  fur- 
ther resistance,  but  threw  open  its  gates  to  the  regent  and  consented  to  accept 
her  terms.  These  were  the  same  that  had  been  imposed  on  all  the  other 
refractory  towns.  The  immunities  of  the  city  were  declared  to  be  forfeited,  a 
garrison  was  marched  into  the  place,  and  preparations  were  made  for  building 
a  fortress,  to  guard  against  future  commotions.  Those  who  chose — with  the 
customary  exceptions — were  allowed  to  leave  the  city.  Great  numbers  availed 
themselves  of  the  permission.  The  neighbouring  dikes  were  crowded  with 
fugitives  from  the  territory  round,  as  well  as  from  the  city,  anxiously  waiting 
for  vessels  to  transport  them  to  Embden,  the  chief  asylum  of  the  exiles.  There 
they  stood,  men,  women,  and  children,  a  melancholy  throng,  without  food, 
almost  without  raiment  or  any  of  the  common  necessaries  of  life,  exciting  the 
commiseration  of  even  their  Catholic  adversaries. *• 

The  example  of  Amsterdam  was  speedily  followed  by  Delft,  Haarlem. 
Rotterdam,  Leyden,  and  the  remaining  towns  of  Holland,  which  now  seemed 
to  vie  with  one  another  in  demonstrations  of  loyalty  to  the  government.  The 
triumph  of  the  regent  was  complete.  Her  arms  had  been  everywhere  success- 
ful, and  her  authority  was  fully  recognized  throughout  the  whole  extent  of 
the  Netherlands.  Doubtful  friends  and  open  foes,  Catholics  and  Reformers, 
were  alike  prostrate  at  her  feet.30  With  the  hour  of  triumph  came  also  the 
hour  of  vengeance.  And  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  the  remembrance  of  past 
humiliation  gave  a  sharper  edge  to  the  sword  of  justice.  Fortres.se*,  to  over- 
awe the  inhabitants,  were  raised  in  the  principal  towns  ;  "  and  the  expense  of 
their  construction,  as  well  as  of  maintaining  their  garrisons,  was  defrayed  by 
fines  laid  on  the  refractory  cities. "  The  regent's  troops  rode  over  the  country, 
and  wherever  the  reformed  were  gathered  to  hear  the  word  they  were  charged 
by  the  troopers,  who  trampled  them  under  their  horses'  hoofs,  shooting  them 
down  without  mercy,  or  dragging  them  off  by  scores  to  execution.  No  town 
was  so  small  that  fifty  at  least  did  not  perish  in  this  way,  while  the  number 
of  the  victims  sometimes  rose  to  two  or  even  three  hundred.1*  Everywhere 

**  Brandt,  Reformation  In  the  T,ow  Coun-  ministros  y  prrdicante-"  echados  fuera  6  pre- 

ti  i"s  vol.  t.  p.  25.'..— Meteren,  Hist.  <!es  Pays-  Bos ;  y  la  aul<>ri<lail  de  su  Magestad  establecida 

Bas,  fol.  60.— Vander  Hat-r,  1)  •  Iniiiia  Turnul-  otra  vez."     Kenum  de  Franc. a,  Alborotos  de 

tiium,  p.  327. — Correspoiidauce  de   Philippe  Flandes,  M.S. 

11.,  torn.  I.  p.  533.  J1  This  wan  fulfilling  the  prophecy  of  the 

"*  Margar  t's  success  draws  forth  an  ani-  prince  of  Orange,  who  in  his  letter  to  Honrne 

mated  tribute  from  the  president  of  Mechlin  :  tells  him,  "  In  a  short  time  we  shall  refuse 

"  I).'  manera  que  los  negocios  de  IOH  payaes  ncitln-r  bridle  nor  sadJl  •.     For  myself,"  he 

bajoa  por  la  gracia  de  Dlos  y  la  prud'-ncia  de  ad.ls,  "1   have  not  ibe   strength   to  endure 

eBta  virtuoaa  Dama  y  Princesa  con  la  a'is-  either."     Archives  de  la    .Maisoii  d'Orange- 

tencia  de  los  burnos  consej'-ros  y  servi.lo  e»  fiassau,  torn.  III.  p.  73. 

del  Key  en  hiienoa  trnnn.it  y  en  efecto  reme-  "  Stra.la.  Di-  Bello  B^lgico,  torn.  1.  p.  333. 

diailoa.  La*  villas  reveld<-n  y  alt-ratia*  auiaza-  "  .See  Meteren  (  H int.  de<  Pays-Ban.  f»l.40), 

das,  loe    gucusoa   reducidi*   6   buido*;    los  who  mutt  Uuvc  drawn  aomewbat  on  hi*  laocy 


298  TRANQUILLITY  RESTORED. 

along  the  road-side  the  traveller  beheld  the  ghastly  spectacle  of  bodies  swing- 
ing from  gibbets,  or  met  with  troops  of  miserable  exiles  flying  from  their 
native  land.34  Confiscation  followed,  as  usual,  in  the  train  of  persecution. 
At  Tournay,  the  property  of  a  hundred  of  the  richest  merchants  was  seized 
and  appropriated  by  the  government.  Even  the  populace,  like  those  animals 
who  fan  upon  and  devour  one  of  their  own  number  when  wounded,  now  joined 
in  the  cry  against  the  Reformers.  They  worked  with  the  same  alacrity  as  the 
soldiers  in  pulling  down  the  Protestant  churches,  and  from  the  beams,  in  some 
instances,  formed  the  very  gallows  from  which  their  unhappy  victims  were 
suspended.3*  Such  is  the  picture,  well  charged  with  horrors,  left  to  us  by 
Protestant  writers.  We  may  be  quite  sure  that  it  lost  nothing  of  its  darker 
colouring  under  their  hands. 

So  strong  was  now  the  tide  of  emigration  that  it  threatened  to  depopulate 
some  of  the  fairest  provinces  of  the  country.  The  regent,  who  at  first  rejoiced 
in  this  as  the  best  means  of  ridding  the  land  of  its  enemies,  became  alarmed, 
as  she  saw  it  was  drawing  off  so  large  a  portion  of  the  industrious  population. 
They  fled  to  France,  to  Germany,  and  very  many  to  England,  where  the  wise 
Elizabeth  provided  them  with  homes,  knowing  well  that,  though  poor,  they 
brought  with  them  a  skill  in  the  mechanic  arts  which  would  do  more  than 
gold  and  silver  for  the  prosperity  of  her  kingdom. 

Margaret  would  have  stayed  "this  tide  of  emigration  by  promises  of  grace, 
if  not  bv  a  general  amnesty  for  the  past.  But,  though  she  had  power  to  punish, 
Philip  had  not  given  her  the  power  to  pardon.  And  indeed  promises  of  grace 
would  have  availed  little  with  men  flying  from  the  dread  presence  of  Alva.38 
It  was  the  fear  of  him  which  gave  wings  to  their  flight,  as  Margaret  herself 
plainly  intimated  in  a  letter  to  the  duke,  in  which  she  deprecated  his  coming 
with  an  army,  when  nothing  more  was  needed  than  a  vigilant  police.37 

In  truth,  Margaret  was  greatly  disgusted  by  the  intended  mission  of  the 
duke  of  Alva,  of  which  she  had  been  advised  by  the  king  some  months  before. 
She  knew  well  the  imperious  temper  of  the  man,  and  that,  however  high- 
sounding  might  be  her  own  titles,  the  power  would  be  lodged  in  his  hands. 
She  felt  this  to  be  a  poor  requital  for  her  past  services, — a  personal  indignity, 
no  less  than  an  injury  to  the  state.  She  gave  free  vent  to  her  feelings  on  the 
subject  in  more  than  one  letter  to  her  brother. 

In  a  letter  of  the  fifth  of  April  she  says,  "  You  have  shown  no  regard  for 
my  wishes  or  my  reputation.  By  your  extraordinary  restrictions  on  my 
authority,  you  have  prevented  my  settling  the  affairs  of  the  country  entirely 
to  my  mind.  Yet,  seeing  things  in  so  good  a  state,  you  are  willing  to  give  all 
the  credit  to  another,  and  leave  me  only  the  fatigue  and  danger.38  But  I  am 
resolved,  instead  of  wasting  the  remainder  of  my  days,  as  I  have  already  done 
my  health,  in  this  way,  to  retire  and  dedicate  myself  to  a  tranquil  life  in  the 
service  of  God."  In  another  letter,  dated  four  weeks  later,  on  the  third  of 

for  these  wholesale  executions,  which,  if  taken  des  gens,  qui  se  retirent  en  France,  en  Angle- 
literally,  would  have  gone  nigh  to  depopulate  terre,  au  pays  de  Cleves,  en  Allemagne  et 
the  Netherlands.  ailleurs  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II., 

3-  "Thus  the  gallowses  were  filled  with  torn.  i.  p.  546. 

carcasses,  and  Germany  with  exiles."    Brandt,  "  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

Reformation  in  the  Low  Countries,  torn.  i.  p.  "  "  Par  les  restrictions  extraordinaires  que 

257.  V.  M.  a  mises  a  mon  antprite',  elle  m'a  cnleve 

"  "  Ex  traMbus  decidentium  templorum.  tout  pouvoir,  et  m'a  prive  des  rooyens  d'ache- 

infelicia  conformarent  patihula,  exquibusipM  VPT  1'entier  retablissement  des  affaires  de  ce 

templorum    fabri     cultoresque    penderent."  pays:  a  present  qu'ellevoit  ces  affaires  en  un 

Straiia,  De  Bello  Be'gico,  torn.  i.  p.  333.  bon  etat,  elle  en  veut  donner  1'honnenr  a 

f  "  Le  bruit  de  1'arrivee  prochainc  du  due,  d'autres,  tandis  que,  moi  seule,  j'ai   en,  les 

&  la  tfte  d'une  arnie'e,  fait  fuir  de  toutes  parts  fatigues  et  les  dangers."    Ibid.,  p.  523. 


TRANQUILLITY  RESTORED.  299 

May,  after  complaining  that  the  king  withdraws  his  confidence  more  and  more 
from  her,  she  asks  leave  to  withdraw,  as  the  country  is  restored  to  order,  and 
the  royal  authority  more  assured  than  in  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth.*9 

In  this  assurance  respecting  the  public  tranquillity,  Margaret  was  no  doubt 
sincere ;  as  are  also  the  historians  who  have  continued  to  take  the  same 
view  of  the  matter,  down  to  the  present  time,  and  who  consider  the  troubles 
of  the  country  to  have  been  so  far  composed  by  the  regent  that  but  for  the 
coining  of  Alva  there  would  have  been  no  revolution  in  the  Netherlands.  In- 
deed, there  might  have  seemed  to  be  good  ground  for  such  a  conclusion.  The 
revolt  had  been  crushed.  Resistance  had  every  whe:e  ceased.  The  authority 
of  the  regent  was  recognized  throughout  the  land.  The  league,  which  had 
raised  so  bold  a  front  against  the  government,  had  crumbled  away.  Its  mem- 
bers had  fallen  in  battle,  or  lay  waiting  their  sentence  in  dungeons,  or  were 
wandering  as  miserable  exiles  in  distant  lands.  The  name  of  Gueux,  and  the 
insignia  of  the  bowl  and  the  beggar's  scrip,  which  they  had  assumed  in  derision, 
were  now  theirs  by  right.  It  was  too  true  for  a  jest. 

The  party  of  reform  had  disappeared,  as  if  by  magic.  Its  worship  was 
everywhere  proscribed.  On  its  ruins  the  Catholic  religion  had  risen  in  greater 
splendour  than  ever.  Its  temples  were  restored,  its  services  celebrated  with 
more  than  customary  pomp.  The  more  austere  and  uncompromising  of  the 
Reformers  had  tied  the  country.  Those  who  remained  purchased  impunity 
by  a  compulsory  attendance  on  mass ;  or  the  wealthier  sort,  by  the  aid  of 
good  cheer  or  more  substantial  largesses,  bribed  the  priest  to  silence.40  At 
no  time  since  the  beginning  of  the  Reformation  had  the  clergy  been  treated 
with  greater  deference,  or  enjoyed  a  greater  share  of  authority  in  the  land. 
The  dark  hour  of  revolution  seemed,  indeed,  to  have  passed  away. 

Yet  a  Fleming  of  that  day  might  well  doubt  whether  the  prince  of  Orange 
were  a  man  likely  to  resign  his  fair  heritage  and  the  land  so  dear  to  his  heart 
without  striking  one  blow  in  their  defence.  One  who  knew  the  wide  spread 
of  the  principles  of  reform,  and  the  sturdy  character  of  the  reformer,  might 
distrust  the  permanence  of  a  quiet  which  had  been  brought  about  by  so  much 
violence.  He  might  rather  think  that,  beneath  the  soil  he  was  treading,  the 
elements  were  still  at  work  which,  at  no  distant  time  perhaps,  would  burst 
forth  with  redoubled  violence  and  spread  ruin  over  the  land. 

"  "  Oii  1'aiitoritf-  da  Rol  cst  plug  anHiirfo  "  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Cutin- 

qu'elle  ne  1'etait  au  temps  de  1  Empereur."       tries,  torn.  i.  p.  258. 
Corregpondance  de  Pki.ippe  II.,  tom.  i.  p.  532. 


BOOK  m. 

CHAPTER  I. 

ALVA  SENT  TO  THE   NETHERLANDS. 

Alva'g  Appointment — His  remarkable  March— He  arrives  at  Brussels — Margaret  disgusted — 
Policy  of  the  Duke— Arrest  of  Egniont  and  Hoorne. 

1567. 

WHILE  Margaret  was  thus  successful  in  bringing  the  country  to  a  state  of  at 
least  temporary  tranquillity,  measures  were  taken  at  the  court  of  Madrid  for 
shifting  the  government  of  the  Netherlands  into  other  hands,  and  for  mate- 
rially changing  its  policy. 

We  have  seen  how  actively  the  rumours  had  been  circulated,  throughout 
the  last  year,  of  Philip's  intended  visit  to  the  country.  These  rumours  had 
received  abundant  warrant  from  his  own  letters,  addressed  to  the  regent  and 
to  his  ministers  at  the  different  European  courts.  Nor  did  the  king  confine 
himself  to  professions.  He  applied  to  the  French  government  to  allow  a  free 
passage  for  his  army  through  its  territories.  He  caused  a  survey  to  be  made 
of  that  part  of  Savoy  through  which  his  troops  would  probably  march,  and  a 
map  of  the  proposed  route  to  be  prepared.  He  ordered  fresh  levies  from 
Germany  to  meet  him  on  the  Flemish  frontier.  And,  finally,  he  talked  of 
calling  the  cortes  together,  to  provide  for  the  regency  during  his  absence. 

Yet,  whoever  else  might  be  imposed  on,  there  was  one  potentate  in  Europe 
whose  clear  vision  was  not  to  be  blinded  by  the  professions  of  Philip,  nor  by 
all  this  bustle  of  preparation.  This  was  the  old  pontiff,  Pius  the  Fifth,  who 
had  always  distrusted  the  king's  sincerity.  Pius  had  beheld  with  keen 
anguish  the  spread  of  heresy  in  the  Low  Countries.  Like  a  true  son  of  the 
Inquisition  as  he  was,  he  would  gladly  have  seen  its  fires  kindled  in  every  city 
of  this  apostate  land.  He  had  observed  with  vexation  the  aj  athy  manifested 
by  Philip.  And  he  at  length  resolved  to  despatch  a  special  embassy  to  Spain, 
to  stimulate  the  monarch,  if  possible,  to  more  decided  action. 

The  person  employed  was  the  bishop  of  Ascoli,  and  the  good  father  delivered 
his  rebuke  in  sucn  blunt  terms  as  caused  a  sensation  at  the  court  of  Madrid. 
In  a  letter  to  his  ambassador  at  Rome,  Philip  complained  that  the  pope 
should  have  thus  held  him  up  to  Christendom  as  one  slack  in  the  performance 
of  his  duty.  The  envoy  had  delivered  himself  in  so  strange  a  manner,  Philip 
added,  that,  but  for  the  respect  and  love  he  bore  his  holiness,  he  might  have 
been  led  to  take  precisely  the  opposite  course  to  the  one  he  intended.1 

1  "  Ledit  Sveque,  dans  la  premiere  audience  s'il  eflt  eu  moins  d'amour  et  de  respect  pour 
qu'il  lui  a  donnee,  a  use  d'ailleures  de  termes  S.  S.,  cela  eut  pu  le  faire  revenir  sur  les  reso- 
ei  etraiiges,  qu'il  1'a  mis  en  colere,  et  que,  lutions  qu'il  a  prises."  Correspondance  de 


DON    FERNANDO    ALVAREZ    DC.    TOLEDO, 

DUKE    OF   ALVA. 


ALVA'S  APPOINTMENT.  301 

Yet,  notwithstanding  this  show  of  indignation,  had  it  not  been  for  the  out- 
break of  the  iconoclasts,  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  king  might  still  have 
continued  to  procrastinate,  relying  on  his  favourite  maxim,  that  "  Time  and 
himself  were  a  match  for  any  other  two."  *  But  the  event  which  caused  such 
a  sensation  throughout  Christendom  roused  every  feeling  of  indignation  in 
the  royal  bosom, — and  this  from  the  insult  offered  to  the  crown  as  well  as  to 
the  Church.  Contrary  to  his  wont,  the  king  expressed  himself  with  so  much 
warmth  on  the  subject,  and  so  openly,  that  the  most  skeptical  began  at  last 
to  believe  that  the  long-talked-of  visit  was  at  hand.  The  only  doubt  was  as 
to  the  manner  in  which  it  should  be  made, — whether  the  king  should  march 
at  the  head  of  an  army,  or  attended  only  by  so  much  of  a  retinue  as  wa-> 
demanded  by  his  royal  state. 

The  question  was  warmly  discussed  in  the  council.  Ruy  Gomez,  the  courtly 
favourite  of  Philip,  was  for  the  latter  alternative.  A  civil  war  he  deprecated, 
as  bringing  ruin  even  to  the  victor.1  Clemency  was  the  best  attribute  of  a 
sovereign,  and  the  people  of  Flanders  were  a  generous  race,  more  likely  to  be 
overcome  by  kindness  than  by  arms.4  In  these  liberal  and  humane  views  the 
prince  of  Eboli  was  supported  by  the  politic  secretary,  Antonio  Perez,  and  by 
the  duke  of  Feria,  formerly  ambassador  to  London,  a  man  who  to  polished 
manners  united  a  most  insinuating  eloquence. 

But  very  different  opinions,  as  might  be  expected,  were  advanced  by  the 
duke  of  Alva.  The  system  of  indulgence,  he  said,  had  been  that  followed  by 
the  regent,  and  its  fruits  were  visible.  The  weeds  of  heresy  were  not  to  be 
extirpated  by  a  gentle  hand ;  and  his  majesty  should  deal  with  his  rebellious 
vassals  as  Charles  the  Fifth  had  dealt  witn  their  rebel  fathers  at  Ghent.5 
These  stern  views  received  support  from  the  Cardinal  Espinosa,  who  held  the 
office  of  president  of  the  council  as  well  as  of  grand  inquisitor,  and  who  doubt- 
less thought  the  insult  offered  to  the  Inquisition  not  the  least  of  the  offences 
to  be  charged  on  the  Reformers. 

Each  of  the  great  leaders  recommended  the  measures  most  congenial  with 
his  own  character,  and  which  had  they  been  adopted  would  probably  have 
required  his  own  services  to  carry  them  into  execution.  Had  the  pacific 
course  been  taken,  Feria,  or  more  probably  Ruy  Gomez,  would  have  been 
intrusted  with  the  direction  of  affairs.  Indeed,  Montigny  and  Bergen,  still 
detained  in  reluctant  captivity  at  Madrid,  strongly  urged  trie  king  to  send  the 

Philippe  II.,  ton),  i.  p.  488. — The  tart  reroon-  as  well  as  the  weal  of  Christendom,  what  is  tt 

strance  of  Philip  had   its  effect.    Grsnvelle  but  t<>  declare  that  you  are  ready  to  accept 

Boon  after  wrote  t.>  the  king  that  his  holiness  the  regal  dignity  which  God  has  given  you, 

was  greatly  disturbed  by  the  manner  in  which  and  yet  leave  to  him  all  the  can-  and  trxmMe 

bis  majesty  had  taken  his  rebuke.    The  pope,  that  belong  to  that  dignity  ?    God  wouid  take 

Granvelle  mMe  I,  was  a  person  of  the  be>t  this  as  ill  <>f  your  majesty,  on  you  would  take 

intention*,  but  with  very  little  knowledge  of  It  of  those  of  your  vassals  whom  you   had 

the  world,  and  easily  kept  in  check  by  those  raised  to  offices  of  trust  ami  honour,  and  who 

who   show   their  teeth    to   him:  "reiirimi.it  took  the  offices,  but   left  you  to  do  the  work 

qunndn  $e  U  mutitran  lot  dienten."    Ibid.,  for  them  !     To  offend  God  is  n  rash  act,  that 

torn.  ii.  p.  iviii.  must  destroy  both  soul  and  body."    Gachard, 

*  "Que  lui  et  le  temps  en  valaient  deux  Cnrrexpondance    de    Philippe    II.,   torn,   ii., 

autres."     Vandervynckt.  TnmMes  des  Pays-  Rapport,  p.  xlviii. 

Has,  torn.  it.  p.   199.— The  hesitation  of  the  '  ••  Ne  extingui  qnidem  posse  sine   nil  ;i 

king  drew  on  him  a  sharp  rebuke  from  the  victoria."    Strada,  Ite  Bello  Delgicn.  t»m.  I. 

audacious   Fray   Ixirenzo  Vlllavicenrlo,  who  p.  ;*3H.  — Better  expressed  by  the  old  Castilian 

showed  as   little  ceremony  in  dealing  with  proverb,  "  Kl  vcni-ido  vuncido.  y  el  vancidor 

Philip    as    with    his    ministers.      ••  If    your  perdido." 

majesty,"   he  says,  "consulting   only   your  '  "At  illos  non  armis  sed   heneflciis  ex- 
own  ease,  refuses  to  make  this  visit  to  Flan-  pugnari."    Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  1. 
ders,  which  so  nearly  concerns  the  honour  of  p.  339. 
God,  his  blessed  Mother,  and  all  the  salute,            '  Ibid.,  p.  340. 


302       ALVA  SENT  TO  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

prince  of  Eboli,  as  a  man  who,  by  his  popular  manners  and  known  discretion, 
would  be  most  likely  to  reconcile  opposite  factions.6  Were  violent  measures, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  be  adopted,  to  whom  could  they  be  so  well  intrusted  as 
to  the  duke  himself,  the  most  experienced  captain  of  his  time? 

The  king,  it  is  said,  contrary  to  his  custom,  was  present  at  the  meeting  of 
the  council  and  listened  to  the  debate.  He  did  not  intimate  his  opinion.  But 
it  might  be  conjectured  to  which  side  he  was  most  likely  to  lean,  from  his 
habitual  preference  for  coercive  measures.7 

Philip  came  to  a  decision  sooner  than  usual.  In  a  few  days  he  summoned 
the  duke,  and  told  him  that  he  had  resolved  to  send  him  forthwith,  at  the 
head  of  an  army,  to  the  Netherlands.  It  was  only,  however,  to  prepare  the 
way  for  his  own  coming,  which  would  take  place  as  soon  as  the  country  was  in 
a  state  sufficiently  settled  to  receive  him. 

All  was  now  alive  with  the  business  of  preparation  in  Castile.  Levies  were 
raised  throughout  the  country.  Such  was  the  zeal  displayed  that  even  the 
Inquisition  and  the  clergy  advanced  a  considerable  sum  towards  defraying 
the  expenses  of  an  expedition  which  they  seemed  to  regard  in  the  light  of  a 
crusade.8  Magazines  of  provisions  were  ordered  to  be  established  at  regular 
stations  on  the  proposed  line  of  march.  Orders  were  sent  that  the  old  Spanish 
garrisons  in  Lombardy,  Naples,  Sicily,  and  Sardinia  should  be  transported  to 
the  place  of  rendezvous  in  Piedmont,  to  await  the  coming  of  the  duke,  who 
would  supply  their  places  with  the  fresh  recruits  brought  with  him  from 
Castile. 

Philip  meanwhile  constantly  proclaimed  that  Alva's  departure  was  only  the 
herald  of  his  own.  He  wrote  this  to  Margaret,  assuring  her  of  his  purpose  to 
go  by  water,  and  directing  her  to  have  a  squadron  of  eight  vessels  in  readiness 
to  convoy  him  to  Zealand,  where  he  proposed  to  land.  The  vessels  were 
accordingly  equipped.  Processions  were  made,  and  prayers  put  up  in  all  the 
churches,  for  the  prosperous  passage  of  the  king.  Yet  there  were  some  in  the 
Netherlands  who  remarked  that  prayers  to  avert  the  dangers  of  the  sea  were 
hardly  needed  by  the  monarch  in  his  palace  at  Madrid ! 9  Many  of  those 
about  the  royal  person  soon  indulged  in  the  same  skepticism  in  regard  to  the 
king's  sincerity,  as  week  after  week  passed  away  and  no  arrangements  were 
made  for  his  departure.  Among  the  contradictory  rumours  at  court  in  respect 
to  the  king's  intention,  the  pope's  nuncio  wrote,  it  was  impossible  to  get  at 
the  truth."  It  was  easy  to  comprehend  the  general  policy  of  Philip,  but 
impossible  to  divine  the  particular  plans  by  which  it  was  to  be  carried  out. 
If  such  was  the  veil  which  hid  the  monarch's  purposes  even  from  the  eyes  of 
those  who  had  nearest  access  to  his  person,  how  can  we  hope  at  this  distance 
of  time  to  penetrate  it?  Yet  the  historian  of  the  nineteenth  century  is 
admitted  to  the  perusal  of  many  an  authentic  document  revealing  the  royal 
purpose,  which  never  came  under  the  eye  of  the  courtier  of  Madrid. 

*  "Ony,  et  que  plus  eat,  osfrions  presqnes  disagreement  in  these  particulars  Is  by  no 

asseurer  Vostre  Majeste  plusieurs  des  mau-  means  so  surprising  as  their  agreement  in 

vais  et  des  principaulx,  voiant  ledit  prince  de  the  most  improbable  part  of  their  account,— 

Heboli,  se  viendtont  reconcilier  a  luy,  et  le  Philip's  presence  at  the  debate, 

supplier  avoir,  par  son  muien,  faveur  vers  "  "Comme  si  c'eusteste'  unesaincte  guerre." 

Vostre  Majeste  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  Meteren.  Hist,  des  Pays-Baa,  fol.  52. 

II.,  torn.  i.  p.  519.  •  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  350. 

7  The  debate  is   reported  with    sufficient  lo  "II  repete,"  says  Gachard,  "dans  une 

minuteness  both  by  Cabrera  (Filipe  Segundo,  depeche  du  1"  septembre,  qu'au  milieu  des 

lib.  vii.  cap.  vii.)  and  Strada  (De  Bello  Bel-  bruits  contradfctoires  qui  circulent  a  la  cour, 

gico,  torn.  i.  p.  3>8).    They  agree,  however,  11  est  impossible  de  demeler  la  verite."    Cor- 

neither  in  the  names  of  the  parties  present,  respondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn,  i..  Rapport, 

nor  in  the  speeches  they  made.     Yet  their  p.  clvi 


HIS  APPOINTMENT.  303 

With  all  the  light  thus  afforded,  it  is  still  difficult  to  say  whether  Philip 
ever  was  sincere  in  his  professions  of  visiting  the  Netherlands.  If  he  were  so 
at  any  time,  it  certainly  was  not  after  he  had  decided  on  the  mission  of  Alva. 
Philip  widely  differed  from  his  father  in  a  sluggishness  of  body  which  made 
any  undertaking  that  required  physical  effort  exceedingly  irksome.  He  shrank 
from  no  amount  of  sedentary  labour,  would  toil  from  morning  till  midnight  in 
his  closet,  like  the  humblest  of  his  secretaries.  But  a  journey  was  a  great 
undertaking.  After  his  visits,  during  his  father's  lifetime,  to  England  ana  the 
Low  Countries,  he  rarely  travelled  farther,  as  his  graceless  son  satirically 
hinted,  than  from  Madrid  to  Aranjuez,  or  Madrid  to  the  Escorial.  A  thing 
so  formidable  as  an  expedition  to  Flanders,  involving  a  tedious  journey 
through  an  unfriendly  land,  or  a  voyage  through  seas  not  less  unfriendly, 
was  what,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  the  king  would  have  never 
dreamed  of. 

The  present  aspect  of  affairs,  moreover,  had  nothing  in  it  particularly 
inviting, — especially  to  a  prince  of  Philip's  temper.  Never  was  there  a  prince 
more  jealous  of  his  authority ;  and  the  indignities  to  which  he  might  have 
been  exposed,  in  the  disorderly  condition  of  the  country,  might  well  have 
come  to  the  aid  of  his  constitutional  sluggishness  to  deter  him  from  the 
visit. 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  is  not  strange  that  Philip,  if  he  had  ever 
entertained  a  vague  project  of  a  journey  to  the  Netherlands,  should  have 
yiejded  to  his  natural  habit  of  procrastination.  The  difficulties  of  a  winter's 
voyage,  the  necessity  of  summoning  cortes  and  settling  the  affairs  of  the 
kingdom,  his  own  protracted  illness,  furnished  so  many  apologies  for  post- 
poning the  irksome  visit  until  the  time  had  passed  when  such  a  visit  could 
be  effectual. 

That  he  should  so  strenuously  have  asserted  his  purpose  of  going  to  the 
Netherlands  may  be  explained  by  a  desire  in  some  sort  to  save  his  credit  with 
those  who  seemea  to  think  that  the  present  exigency  demanded  he  should  go. 
He  may  have  also  thought  it  politic  to  keep  up  the  idea  of  a  visit  to  the  Low 
Countries,  in  order  to  curb— as  it  no  doubt  had  the  effect  in  some  degree  of 
curbing — the  license  of  the  people,  who  believed  they  were  soon  to  be  called  to 
a  reckoning  for  their  misdeeas  bv  the  prince  in  person.  After  all,  the  conduct 
of  Philip  on  this  occasion,  and  the  motives  assigned  for  his  delay  in  his  letters 
to  Margaret,  must  be  allowed  to  afford  a  curious  coincidence  with  those 
ascribed,  in  circumstances  not  dissimilar,  by  the  Roman  historian  to 
Tiberius." 

On  the  fifteenth  of  April,  1567,  Alva  had  his  last  audience  of  Philip  at 
Aranjuez.  He  immediately  after  departed  for  Carthagena,  where  a  fleet  of 
thirty-six  vessels  under  a  Genoese  Admiral  Doria,  lay  riding  at  anchor  to 
receive  him.  He  was  detained  some  time  for  the  arrival  of  the  troops,  and 
while  there  he  received  despatches  from  the  court  containing  his  commission 
of  captain-general  and  particular  instructions  as  to  the  course  he  was  to  pursue 
in  the  Netherlands.  They  were  so  particular  that,  notwithstanding  the  broad 
extent  of  his  powers,  the  duke  wrote  to  his  master  complaining  of  nis  want  of 
confidence  and  declaring  that  he  had  never  been  hampered  by  instructions  so 
minute,  even  under  the  emperor.11  One  who  has  studied  the  character  of 
Philip  will  find  no  difficulty  in  believing  it 

"  "  Ceteram,  nt  jam  Jamque  iturua,  legit  "  "  E*  la  prtmera  que  se  me  da  en  nit  vM» 

comltea,  conqutsivit  Impedimenta,  aclornavlt  de  COMA  denta  calidad  en  cuantaa  vecen  ho 

naves:  mox  blemem  ant  negotla  varie  causa-  servldo,  nl  d-  *u  Magettad  Cemlrea  que  Dloa 

tus  primo  prudentw,  deln  vulgum,  diutisMme  tenga,  nl  de  V.  M.       Documentor  In&Uiuv, 

prevlociM  fefelllt."    Taclti  Anuales,  L  xlvll.  torn.  tv.  p.  364. 


304       ALVA  SENT  TO  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

On  the  twenty-seventh  of  April  the  fleet  weighed  anchor ;  but,  in  conse- 
quence of  a  detention  of  some  days  at  several  places  on  the  Catalan  coast,  it 
did  not  reach  the  Genoese  port  of  Savona  till  the  seventeenth  of  the  next 
month.  The  duke  had  been  ill  when  he  went  on  board,  and  his  gouty  consti- 
tution received  no  benefit  from  the  voyage.  Yet  he  did  not  decline  the  hospi- 
talities offered  by  the  Genoese  nobles,  who  vied  with  the  senate  in  showing  the 
Spanish  commander  every  testimony  of  respect.  At  Asti  he  was  waited  on  by 
Albuquerque,  the  Milanese  viceroy,  and  by  ambassadors  from  different  Italian 
provinces,  eager  to  pay  homage  to  the  military  representative  of  the  Spanish 
monarch.  But  the  gout  under  which  Alva  laboured  was  now  aggravated 
by  an  attack  of  tertian  ague,  and  for  a  week  or  more  he  was  conn'ued  to 
his  bed. 

Meanwhile  the  troops  had  assembled  at  the  appointed  rendezvous,  and  the 
duke,  as  soon  he  had  got  the  better  of  his  disorder,  made  haste  to  review  them. 
They  amounted  in  all  to  about  ten  thousand  men,  of  whom  less  than  thirteen 
hundred  were  cavalry.  But,  though  small  in  amount,  it  was  a  picked  body  of 
troops,  such  as  was  hardly  to  be  matched  in  Europe.  The  infantry,  in  parti- 
cular, were  mostly  Spaniards, — veterans  who  had  been  accustomed  to  victory 
under  the  banner  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  many  of  them  trained  to  war 
under  the  eye  of  Alva  himself.  He  preferred  such  a  body,  compact  and  well 
disciplined  as  it  was,  to  one  which,  unwieldy  from  its  size,  would  have  been 
less  fitted  for  a  rapid  march  across  the  mountains.1* 

Besides  those  of  the  common  file,  there  were  many  gentlemen  and  cavaliers 
of  note,  who,  weary  of  repose,  came  as  volunteers  to  gather  fresh  laurels  under 
so  renowned  a  chief  as  the  duke  of  Alva.  Among  these  was  Vitelli,  marquis 
of  Cetona,  a  Florentine  soldier  of  high  repute  in  his  profession,  but  who,  though 
now  embarked  in  what  might  be  called  a  war  of  religion,  was  held  so  inditte- 
rent  to  religion  of  any  kind  that  a  whimsical  epitaph  on  the  skeptic  denies  him 
the  possession  of  a  soul.14  Another  of  these  volunteers  was  Mondragone,  a 
veteran  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  whose  character  for  chivalrous  exploit  was 
unstained  by  those  deeds  of  cruelty  and  rapine  which  were  so  often  the  reproach 
of  the  cavalier  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  duties  of  the  commissariat,  par- 
ticularly difficult  in  a  campaign  like  the  present,  were  intrusted  to  an  expe- 
rienced Spanish  officer  named  Ibarra.  To  the  duke  of  Savoy  Alva  was 
indebted  for  an  eminent  engineer  named  Paciotti,  whose  services  proved  of 
great  importance  in  the  construction  of  fortresses  in  the  Netherlands.  Alva 
had  also  brought  with  him  his  two  sons,  Frederick  and  Ferdinand  de  Toledo, 
—the  latter  an  illegitimate  child,  for  whom  the  father  showed  as  much  affec- 
tion as  it  was  in  his  rugged  nature  to  feel  for  any  one.  To  Ferdinand  was 
given  the  command  of  the  cavalry,  composed  chiefly  of  Italians.14 

Having  reviewed  his  forces,  the  duke  formed  them  into  three  divisions. 

11  A  magnanimous  Castilian  historian  pro-  "  "Corpus  in  Italia  est,  tenet  intestina  Bra- 
nounces  a  swelling  panegyric  on  this  little  bautus; 

army  in  a  couple  of  lines:  "Los  Soldados  Ast  animam  nemo.    Cur?  quia  non  ha- 

podian  ser  Capitanes,  los  C.ipitanes  Maestros  buit." 

de  Canipo,  y  los  Maestros  de  Cauipo  Gene-  Borgnet,  Philippe  II.  et  la  Belgique,  p.  60 


HIS  REMARKABLE  MARCH.  305 

This  he  did  in  order  to  provide  the  more  easily  for  their  subsistence  on  his  long 
and  toilsome  journey.  The  divisions  were  to  be  separated  from  one  another 
by  a  day's  march  ;  so  that  each  would  take  up  at  night  the  same  quarters 
which  had  been  occupied  by  the  preceding  division  on  the  night  before.  Alva 
himself  led  the  van.1* 

He  dispensed  with  artillery,  not  willing  to  embarrass  his  movements  in  his 
passage  across  the  mountains.  But  he  employed  what  was  then  a  novelty  in 
war.  Each  company  of  foot  was  flanked  by  a  body  of  soldiers  carrying  heavy 
muskets  with  rests  attached  to  them.  This  sort  of  fire-arms,  from  their  cum- 
brous nature,  had  hitherto  been  used  only  in  the  defence  of  fortresses.  But 
with  these  portable  rests  they  were  found  efficient  for  field-service,  and  as  such 
came  into  general  use  after  this  period."  Their  introduction  by  Alva  may  be 
regarded,  therefore,  as  an  event  of  some  importance  in  the  history  of  military 
art. 

The  route  that  Alva  proposed  to  take  was  that  over  Mount  Cenis,  the  same, 
according  to  tradition,  by  which  Hannibal  crossed  the  great  barrier  some  eigh- 
teen centuries  before.18  If  less  formidable  than  in  the  days  of  the  Carthaginian, 
it  was  far  from  being  the  practicable  route  so  easily  traversed,  whether  by 
trooper  or  tourist,  at  the  present  day.  Steep  rocky  heights,  shaggy  with 
forests,  where  the  snows  of  winter  still  lingered  in  the  midst  of  June  ;  fathom- 
less ravines,  choked  up  with  the  debris  washed  down  by  the  mountain-torrent ; 
paths  scarcely  worn  by  the  hunter  and  his  game,  affording  a  precarious  footing 
on  the  edge  of  giddy  precipices  ;  long  and  intricate  defiles,  where  a  handful  of 
men  might  hold  an  army  at  bay  and  from  the  surrounding  heights  roll  down 
ruin  on  their  heads  ; — these  were  the  obstacles  which  Alva  and  his  followers 
had  to  encounter,  as  they  threaded  their  toilsome  way  through  a  country 
where  the  natives  bore  no  friendly  disposition  to  the  Spaniards. 

Their  route  lay  at  no  great  distance  from  Geneva,  that  stronghold  of  the 
Reformers  ;  and  Pius  the  Fifth  would  have  persuaded  the  duke  to  turn  from 
his  course  and  exterminate  this  "  nest  of  devils  and  apostates,"  " — as  the 
Christian  father  was  pleased  to  term  them.  The  people  of  Geneva,  greatly 
alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  an  invasion,  applied  to  their  Huguenot  brethren  for 
aid.  The  prince  of  Cond4  and  the  Admiral  Coligni— the  leaders  of  that  party 
— offered  their  services  to  the  French  monarch  to  raise  fifty  thousand  men, 
fall  upon  his  old  enemies  the  Spaniards,  and  cut  them  off  in  the  passes  of  the 
mountains.  But  Charles  the  Ninth  readily  understood  the  drift  of  this  pro- 

"  A  poem  in  ottava  rtrao,  commemorating  "  So  >ays  Scliill<  r(  Abfall  der  Niederlande, 
Alva's  expedition,  appeared  at  Antwerp  the  S.   363),   Cabrera  (Filipe  Segundo,    lib.  vii. 
year  following,  from  the  pen  of  one  Balthazar  cap.   15),  et  auct    al.     But  every  schoolboy 
de  Vargas.    It  has  more  value  in  an  historical  knows  that  nothing  is  more  unsettled  than 
point  of  view  than  in  a  poetical  one.     A  the  route  taken  by  Hannihal  acrons  the  Alps, 
single  stanza,  which  the  bard  devotes  to  the  The  two  oldest  authorities,  I. ivy  and  Poly- 
victualling  of  the  army,  will  probably  satisfy  bins,  difler  on  the  point,  and  it  lias  remained 
the  appetite  of  the  reader :  a  vexed  question  ever  since, — the  criticism 
....  of  later  yar.t,  indeed,  leaning  to  still  another 
••  Y  porque  la  Savoya  «,  montaflo.*,  ^      ^  ^'utlto  St.  Bernard.    Th« 

Seria  frggg-g^-1"  legi°nef'  P«*»*  of  tf.nnib.1  forms  the  nil**  of  a 

curious  discussion   Introduced   int..  Gibbon's 

bl  a  la  gente  falu*en  provisioned  journal,  when  the  young  historian  was  in 

El  real  comlsaano  no  rep.*a,  training  for  the  mighty  JU  of  riper  years. 

?*^  '.'  «T  dC  U  '"V^""^0"*9.  „  His  reluctance,  event*  the  close  of  his  argu- 

SS^nX.V'iE  72.   I   £rnmn»     n)cnt- «° strikc  the  balance-  is  »»''8«»'<"»y 

Que  Jamas  falto  el  pan,  y  carne,  y  vino.  characteristic  of  hi*  skept  cal  mind. 
"  Ossorlo,  Alba;  Vita,  torn.  it.   p.   237. —  '*  "  A  suldar  da  <|ti<-l  nido  dl   Dotncmi.  le 

Trillo,  Kebellon  y  Querns  de  Flandes  (Ma-  Bcelcraggtnl  dl  tantl  Appo«tati."    Lett,  Vita 

drld,  1592),  fol.  IT.— Lett,  Viu  dl  Flllppo  II .  dl  Filippo  II.,  torn.  I.  p.  487. 
torn.  I.  p.  49u. 


306        ALVA  SENT  TO  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

posal.  Though  he  bore  little  love  to  the  Spaniards,  he  bore  still  less  to  the 
Reformers.  He  therefore  declined  this  offer  of  the  Huguenot  chiefs,  adding 
that  he  was  able  to  protect  France  without  their  assistance.20  The  Genevans 
were  accordingly  obliged  to  stand  to  their  own  defence,  though  they  gathered 
confidence  from  the  promised  support  of  their  countrymen  of  Berne ;  and  the 
whole  array  of  these  brave  mountaineers  was  in  arms,  ready  to  repel  any  assault 
of  the  Spaniards  on  their  own  territory  or  on  that  of  their  allies,  in  their 
passage  through  the  country.*  But  this  was  unnecessary.  Though  Alva 
passed  within  six  leagues  of  Geneva,  and  the  request  of  the  pontiff  was  warmly 
seconded  by  the  duke  of  Savoy,  the  Spanish  general  did  not  deem  it  prudent 
to  comply  with  it,  declaring  that  his  commission  extended  no  further  than  to 
the  Netherlands.  Without  turning  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  he  held  on, 
therefore,  straight  towards  the  mark,  anxious  only  to  extricate  himself  as 
speedily  as  possible  from  the  perilous  passes  where  he  might  be  taken  at  so 
oovious  disadvantage  by  an  enemy. 

Yet  such  were  the  difficulties  he  had  to  encounter  that  a  fortnight  elapsed 
before  he  was  able  to  set  foot  on  the  friendly  plains  of  Burgundy, — that  part 
of  the  ancient  duchy  which  acknowledged  the  authority  of  Spain.t  Here  he 
received  the  welcome  addition  to  his  ranks  of  four  hundred  horse,  the  flower  of 
the  Burgundian  chivalry.  On  his  way  across  the  country  he  was  accompanied 
by  a  French  army  of  observation,  some  six  thousand  strong,  which  moved  in  a 
parallel  direction,  at  the  distance  of  six  or  seven  leagues  only  from  the  line  of 
march  pursued  by  the  Spaniards, — though  without  offering  them  any  molesta- 
tion. 

Soon  after  entering  Lorraine,  Alva  was  met  by  the  duke  of  that  province, 
who  seemed  desirous  to  show  him  every  respect,  and  entertained  him  with 
princely  hospitality.  After  a  brief  detention,  the  Spanish  general  resumed  his 
lourney,  and  on  the  eighth  of  August  crossed  the  frontiers  of  the  Nether- 
lands.21 

His  long  and  toilsome  march  had  been  accomplished  without  an  untoward 
accident,  and  with  scarcely  a  disorderly  act  on  the  part  of  the  soldiers.  No 
man's  property  had  been  plundered.  No  peasant's  hut  had  been  violated. 
The  cattle  haa  been  allowed  to  graze  unmolested  in  the  fields,  and  the  flocks 

30  The  Huguenots  even  went  so  far  as  to  Trillo,  Febelion  y  Guerras  de  Flandes,  fol. 
attempt  to  engage  the  Reformed  in  the  Low  16,  17. — Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vii. 
Countries  to  join  them  in  assaulting  the  duke  cap.  15.— Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays- Has,  fol. 
in  his  march  through  Savoy.  Their  views  52. — Lanario,  Guerras  de  Flandes,  fol.  15. — 
were  expressed  in  a  work  which  circulated  Renom  de  Francia,  Alborotos  de  Flandes,  MS. 
widely  in  the  provinces,  though  it  failed  to  — Chronological  accuracy  was  a  thing  alto- 
rouse  the  people  to  throw  off  the  Spanish  gether  beneath  the  attention  of  a  chronicler 
yoke.  See  Vandervynckt,  Troubles  des  Pays-  of  the  sixteenth  century.  In  the  confusion 
Has,  torn.  ii.  p.  194.  of  dates  in  regard  to  Alva's  movements,  I 

'•"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  pp.  have  been  guided  as  far  as  possible  by  his 

350-354. — Ossorio,  Albaj  Vita,  torn.  ii.  p.  232,  own  despatches.  See  Documentos  ineditos, 

et  seq. — Hechos  de  Sancho  Davila,  p.  26. —  torn.  iv.  p.  349,  et  seq. 


*  [Geneva  was  not  then  a  member  of  the  while,  the  envoys  of  Spain  and  Savoy  gave 

Swiss  Confederacy,  as  the   language  in  the  assurances  to  the  Council  of  Berne  that  no 

text  would  imply,  and,  though  Berne  offered  hostilities  were  intended  by  Alva,  and  that 
to  send  a  thousand  men  for  its  protection,  a    •    the  strictest  discipline  would  be  maintained 

French  garrison  was  accepted  in  preference.  on  the  march,  the  Coruie  de  Angui«ola  offer- 

fhe  other  cantons  refused  to  raise  any  troops,  ing  to  remain  as  a  hostage  till  the  danger 

their  jealousy  of  Berne  being  such  at  this  was  past.    Tillier,  Geschichte  des  Freistaates 

period  that  they  would  have  been  very  will-  Bern,  B.  iii.  S.  423-425. — Er>.] 

ing,  according  to  the  native  historians,  to  see  f1  [The  county  of  Burgundy  is  meant:  no 

Its  power,  which  had  been  extended  by  con-  part  of  the  duchy  was  subject  to  Philip.— En.] 
quest   crippled  by  a  foreign  enemy.    Mean- 


HIS  REMARKABLE  MARCH.  307 

to  wander  in  safety  over  their  mountain-pastures.  One  instance  only  to  the 
contrary  is  mentioned, — that  of  three  troopers  who  carried  off  one  or  two 
straggling  sheep  as  the  army  was  passing  through  Lorraine.  But  they  were 
soon  called  to  a  heavy  reckoning  for  their  transgression.  Alva,  on  being 
informed  of  the  fact,  sentenced  them  all  to  the  gallows.  At  the  intercession 
of  the  duke  of  Lorraine,  the  sentence  was  so  far  mitigated  by  the  Spanish 
commander  that  one  only  of  the  three,  selected  by  lot,  was  finally  executed." 

The  admirable  discipline  maintained  among  Alva's  soldiers  was  the  more 
conspicuous  in  an  age  when  the  name  of  soldier  was  synonymous  with  that  of 
marauder.  It  mattered  little  whether  it  were  a  friendly  country  or  that  of  a 
foe  through  which  lay  the  line  of  march.  The  defenceless  peasant  was 
everywhere  the  prey  of  the  warrior  ;  and  the  general  winked  at  the  outrages 
of  his  followers  as  the  best  means  of  settling  their  arrears. 

What  made  the  subordination  of  the  troops  in  the  present  instance  still 
more  worthy  of  notice  was  the  great  number  of  camp-followers,  especially 
courtesans,  who  hung  on  the  skirts  of  the  army.  These  latter  mustered  in 
such  force  that  they  were  divided  into  battalions  and  companies,  marching 
each  under  its  own  banner,  and  subjected  to  a  sort  of  military  organization, 
like  the  men.23  The  duke  seems  to  nave  been  as  careless  of  the  morals  of  his 
soldiers  as  he  was  careful  of  their  discipline  ;  perhaps  willing  by  his  laxity  in 
the  one  to  compensate  for  his  severity  in  the  other. 

It  was  of  the  last  importance  to  Alva  that  his  soldiers  should  commit  no 
trespass,  nor  entangle  him  in  a  quarrel  with  the  dangerous  people  through  the 
midst  of  whom  he  was  to  pass,  and  who,  from  their  superior  knowledge  of  the 
country,  as  well  as  their  numbers,  could  so  easily  overpower  him.  Fortunately, 
he  had  received  such  intimations  before  his  departure  as  put  him  on  his  guard. 
The  result  was  that  he  obtained  such  a  mastery  over  his  followers,  and 
enforced  so  perfect  a  discipline,  as  excited  the  general  admiration  of  his  con- 
temporaries and  made  his  march  to  the  Low  Countries  one  of  the  most 
memorable  events  of  the  period.84 

At  Thionville  the  duke  was  waited  on  by  Barlaimont  and  Noircarmes,  who 
came  to  otter  the  salutations  of  the  regent  and  at  the  same  time  to  request  to 
see  his  powers.  At  the  same  place,  and  on  the  way  to  the  capital,  the  duke  was 
met  by  several  of  the  Flemish  nobility,  who  came  to  pay  their  respects  to  him, 
— among  the  rest,  Egmont,  attended  by  forty  of  his  retainers.  On  his  entering 
Alva's  presence,  the  duke  exclaimed  to  one  of  his  officers,  "  Here  comes  a 
great  heretic  ! " — The  words  were  overheard  by  Egmont,  who  hesitated  a 
moment,  naturally  disconcerted  by  what  would  have  served  as  an  effectual 
warning  to  any  other  man.  But  Alva  made  haste  to  efface  the  impression 
caused  by  his  heedless  exclamation,  receiving  Egmont  with  so  much  cordiality 
as  reassured  the  infatuated  nobleman,  who,  regarding  the  words  as  a  jest, 
before  his  departure  presented  the  duke  with  two  beautiful  horses.  Such  is 
the  rather  singular  story  which  comes  down  to  us  on  what  must  be  admitted 
to  be  respectable  authority.1* 

"  Rtrada,  De  Hollo  Relgico,  tom.  I.  p.  354.  marcb.au  tan  continues,  sin  cometer  excemo : 

— Onsorlo,  Alba*  Vita,  torn.  t.  p.  241.  La  del  Duque  es  la  uiiica  que  nos  la  bace  vcr. 

"  Meteren.  HiBt.  des  Pay*-Ba«,  fol.  52.—  Em-antd  &  todo  el  mumlo."     Rustai.t,  Hirtoria 

Old  Brantume  warm* as  he  contemplates  iliene  del  Duqun  d«  Alva,  torn.  11.  p.  124. — So  also 

Amazons,  as  beautiful  and  making  ax  brave  Hemra,   Historia  general,  turn.  I.  p.  650. — 

a  sliuw  •*  princesses  !     "Plusil  v  avoil(|uatre  Cabrera.  Kilipe  Segundo,  lib.   vli.  cap.   16. — 

centa  courtisanes  a  cheval,  belle*  et  braves  str.nl  i.  De  Bello  Belgico,  turn.  I.  p.  354. 
coiinne  princesses,  et  huict  centa  i  pled,  bien  "  "Comme  le  Due  le  vid  de  long,  il  dit 

en  |K>inl  uuiwt."    (Euvrea,  torn.  I.  p.  62.  tout  haut ;  Voicy  le  gr:ind  liereticquc,  dequoy 

*•  "  Nlnguna    Hiatoria    mm    ensena  haya  le  •  Viuu-  s'espouvaiita :   ncai'tmninx,  pource 

pastudu  un  Liercito  pur  Pal*  tan  dilatadu  y  qu'ou  le  pouvolt  entendre  eu  deux  ta;uns,  11 


308       ALVA  SENT  TO  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

Soon  after  lie  had  entered  the  country,  the  duke  detached  the  greater  part 
of  his  forces  to  garrison  some  of  the  principal  cities  and  relieve  the  Walloon 
troops  on  duty  there,  less  to  be  trusted  than  his  Spanish  veterans.  With  the 
Milanese  brigade  he  took  the  road  to  Brussels,  which  he  entered  on  the 
twenty-second  of  August.  His  cavalry  he  established  at  ten  leagues'  distance 
from  the  capital,  and  the  infantry  he  lodged  in  the  suburbs.  Far  from  being 
greeted  by  acclamations,  no  one  came  out  to  welcome  him  as  he  entered  the 
city,  which  seemed  like  a  place  deserted.  He  went  straight  to  the  palace,  to 
offer  his  homage  to  the  regent.  An  altercation  took  place  on  the  threshold 
between  his  halberdiers  and  Margaret's  body-guard  of  archers,  who  deputed 
the  entrance  of  the  Spanish  soldiers.  The  duke  himself  was  conducted  to  the 
bedchamber  of  the  duchess,  where  she  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  audience. 
She  was  standing,  with  a  few  Flemish  nobles  by  her  side ;  and  she  remained 
in  that  position,  without  stirring  a  single  step  to  receive  her  visitor.  Both 
parties  continued  standing  during  the  interview,  which  lasted  half  an  hour, 
the  duke  during  the  greater  part  of  the  time  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  although 
Margaret  requested  him  to  be  covered  The  curious  spectators  of  this  con- 
ference amused  themselves  by  contrasting  the  courteous  and  even  deferential 
manners  of  the  haughty  Spaniard  with  the  chilling  reserve  and  stately 
demeanour  of  the  duchess.28  At  the  close  of  the  interview  Alva  withdrew  to 
his  own  quarters  at  Culemborg  House,— the  place,  it  will  be  remembered, 
where  the  Gueux  held  their  memorable  banquet  on  their  visit  to  Brussels. 

The  following  morning,  at  the  request  of  the  council  of  state,  the  duke  of 
Alva  furnished  that  body  with  a  copy  of  his  commission.  By  this  he  was  in- 
vested with  the  title  of  captain-general,  and  in  that  capacity  was  to  exercise 
supreme  control  in  all  military  affairs.*7  By  another  commission,  dated  two 
months  later,  these  powers  were  greatly  enlarged.  The  country  was  declared 
in  a  state  of  rebellion  ;  and,  as  milder  means  had  failed  to  bring  it  to  obedience, 
it  was  necessary  to  resort  to  arms.  The  duke  was  therefore  commanded  to 
levy  war  on  the  refractory  people  and  reduce  them  to  submission.  He  was, 
moreover, to  inquire  into  the  causes  of  the  recent  troubles,  and  bring  the  sus- 
pected parties  to  trial,  with  full  authority  to  punish  or  to  pardon  as  he  might 
judge  best  for  the  public  weal.28  Finally,  a  third  commission,  of  more  startling 
import  than  the  two  preceding,  and  which  indeed  might  seem  to  supersede 
them  altogether,  was  dated  three  months  later,  on  the  first  of  March,  1567. 
In  the  former  instruments  the  duke  was  so  far  required  to  act  in  subor- 
dination to  the  regent  that  her  authority  was  declared  to  be  unimpaired. 
But  by  virtue  of  this  last  commission  he  was  invested  with  supreme  con- 
trol in  civil  as  well  as  military  affairs  ;  and  persons  of  every  degree,  including 

I'interpreta  de  bonne  part."    Meteren,  Hist.  succeeding  commission.    A  copy  of  it  is  in 

des  Pays-Ris,  fol.  53.  the  Belgian  archives,  and  has  been  incorpo- 

M  "Vimos  los  que  allf  estiibamos  qne  el  rated  in  Gachard'sCorrespondancede  Philippe 

Duque  de  Alha  uso  de  grandisimos  respetos  y  II.  (torn,  ii..  Appendix,  No.  88).    It  is  possible 

buenas  crianzas,  y  que  Madama  estuvo  muy  that  a  copy  of  this  commission  was  sent  to 

eevera  y  mas  que  cuand<>  suelen  negociar  con  Margaret,  as  it  agrees  so  well  with  what  the 

ella  fcgmont  y  estos  ottos  Senores  de  ac£,  cosa  king  had  written  to  her  on  the  subject, 
que  fue  muy  notada  de  los  que  lo  miraban."  -"  To  this  second  commission,  dated  January 

— A  minute  account  of  this  interview,   as  31st,  1567,  was  appended  a  document,  signed 

given  in   the   text,   was  sent  to  Philip  by  also  by  Philip,  the  purport  of  which  seems  t-> 

Mendivil,  an  officer  of  the  artillery,  and  is  have  been  to  explain  more  precisely  the  nature 

inserted  in  the  Documentos  ineditos,  torn.  iv.  of  the  powers  intrusted  to  the  duke,— which 

p.  397.  et  seq.  it  does  in  so  liberal  a  fashion  that  it  may  be 

"  This  document,  dated  December  1st,  1566,  said  to  double  those  powers.     B.'th  papers, 

is  not  to  be  iound  in  the  Archives  of  Simancas,  the  originals  of  which  are  preserved  in  Siman- 

as  we  I"  ay  infer  from  its  having  no  place  in  cas,  have  been  inserted  in  the  Documeutos 

the  Documentoa  ineditos,  which  contains  the  in&iitos,  torn.  iv.  pp.  388-396. 


MARGARET  DISGUSTED.  309 

the  regent  herself,  were  enjoined  to  render  obedience  to  his  commands,  as  to 
those  of  the  king.*'  Such  a  commission,  which  placed  the  government  of  the 
country  in  the  hands  of  Alva,  was  equivalent  to  a  dismissal  of  Margaret. 
The  title  of  "  regent,"  which  still  remained  to  her,  was  an  empty  mockery  ; 
nor  could  it  be  thought  that  she  would  be  content  to  retain  a  barren  sceptre 
in  the  country  over  which  she  had  so  long  ruled. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  the  successive  steps  by  which  Ehilip  had  raised  Alva 
from  the  rank  of  captain -general  of  the  army  to  supreme  authority  in  the 
country.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  king  were  too  tenacious  of  power  readily  to 
part  with  it,  and  that  it  was  only  by  successive  efforts,  as  the  conviction  of 
the  necessity  of  such  a  step  pressed  more  and  more  on  his  mind,  that  he 
determined  to  lodge  the  government  in  the  hands  of  Alva. 

Whether  the  duke  acquainted  the  council  with  the  full  extent  of  his  powers, 
or,  as  seems  more  probable,  communicated  to  that  body  only  his  first  two  com- 
missions, it  is  impossible  to  say.  At  all  events,  the  members  do  not  appear  to 
have  been  prepared  for  the  exhibition  of  powers  so  extensive,  and  which, 
even  in  the  second  of  the  commissions,  transcended  those  exercised  by  the 
regent  herself.  A  consciousness  that  they  did  so  had  led  Philip,  in  more  than 
one  instance,  to  qualify  the  language  of  the  instrument  in  such  a  manner  as 
not  to  rouse  the  jealousy  of  his  sister, — an  artifice  so  obvious  that  it  probably 
produced  a  contrary  effect.  At  any  rate,  Margaret  did  not  affect  to  conceal 
her  disgust,  but  talked  openly  of  the  affront  put  on  her  by  the  king,  and 
avowed  her  determination  to  throw  up  the  government.1* 

She  gave  little  attention  to  business,  passing  most  of  her  days  in  hunting, 
of  which  masculine  sport  she  was  excessively  fond.  She  even 'threatened  to 
amuse  herself  with  journeying  about  from  place  to  place,  leaving  public  affairs 
to  take  care  of  themselves,  till  she  should  receive  the  king's  permission  to 
retire.31  From  this  indulgence  of  her  spleen  she  was  dissuaded  by  her  secre- 
tary, Armenteros,  who,  shifting  his  sails  to  suit  the  breeze,  showed,  soon  after 
Alva's  coming,  his  intention  to  propitiate  the  new  governor.  There  were 
others  of  Margaret's  adherents  less  accommodating.  Some  high  in  ottice  inti- 
mated very  plainly  their  discontent  at  the  presence  of  the  Spaniards,  from 
which  they  boded  only  calamity  to  the  country."  Margaret's  confessor,  in  a 
sermon  preached  before  the  regent,  did  not  scruple  to  denounce  the  Spaniards 
as  so  many  "knaves,  traitors,  and  ravishers." "  And  although  the  remon- 
strance of  the  loyal  Armenteros  induced  the  duchess  to  send  back  the  honest 
man  to  his  convent,  it  was  plain,  from  the  warm  terms  in  which  she  com- 
mended the  preacher,  that  she  was  far  from  being  displeased  with  his  discourse. 

The  duke  of  Alva  cared  little  for  the  hatred  of  the  Flemish  lords.*4  But  he 
felt  otherwise  towards  the  regent  He  would  willingly  have  soothed  her  irri- 

**  "  Par  quoy  requerrons  a  Ixdicte  dame  "  Ibid.,  p.  400. 

dachesse,  nostre  wur,  et  commandons  1  tuns  "  "  En  tudo  el  sermon  no  trat<5  cu.-isi  de 

n. >z  v.m-aulx  ft  Milij'-i-tz.  de  obeyr  nudict  due  otra  cosa  si  no  de  que  log  rapafloles  eran  trai- 

d'Alve  en  ce  qu'il  leur  commander*. ct  do  par  dores  y  ladrones,  y  forzadores  de  mugeres.  y 

nous,  comme  aiant  telle  charge,  et  comme  a  quo  toialmente  el  pals  que  los  Mifri.i    era 

nostre  propre  pertonne."— This  Instrument,  deMruido,  con  tanto  esotndolo  y  maldad  que 

taken  from  the   Belgian   archives,  is   given  mereacia  ser  quemado."     Ibid.,  p.  401. 

i-ntir.-ly    by    Uachard,    Corrr*pondance    de  "  Yet  there  was  danger  In  It,  If.  as  A nnen- 

Pbilippe  II.,  tom.  ii..  Appendix,  No.  102.  teros  warned  the  duke,  to   leave  his  bouse 

10  "  Desput*  que  lo*  han  vlsto  h  m  quedado  would  be  at  the  rink  of  his  life :  "  Tuuhtvn 

todofl   nniy   lafttimado*,   y  &    todos    cuanto«  me  ha  dirho  Tomas  de  Annenteros  que  dip* 

Madam*  habla  le-  dire  que  Be  quiere  ir  d  TO  al  Duque  de  Alba  que  en  ninpuna  mnnera 

casa  (tor  lo«  agravios  que  V.  M.  IP  ha  berho."  como  f».  r«  de  MI  rasa  porque  rt  lo  hace  sent 

Carti  de  M'-ndivil,  ap.  Ducumeutos  ini  ditos,  con  notable  peligru  de  la  vlda."    Ibid.,  uL>i 

torn.  IT.  p.  399.  supra. 

"  Ibid.,  p.  403. 


310  ALVA  SENT  TO  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

tation,  and  he  bent  his  hanghty  spirit  to  show,  in  spite  of  her  coldness,  a 
deference  in  his  manner  that  must  have  done  some  violence  to  his  nature.  As 
a  mark  of  respect,  he  proposed  at  once  to  pay  her  another  visit,  and  in  great 
state,  as  suited  her  rank.  But  Margaret,  feigning  or  feeling  herself  too  ill  to 
receive  him,  declined  his  visit  for  some  days,  and  at  last,  perhaps  to  mortify 
him  the  more,  vouchsafed  him  only  a  private  audience  in  her  own  apartment. 

Yet  at  this  intervjgw  she  showed  more  condescension  than  before,  and  even 
went  so  far  as  to  assure  the  duke  that  there  was  no  one  whose  appointment 
would  have  been  more  acceptable  to  her.*5  She  followed  this  by  bluntly 
demanding  why  he  had  been  sent  at  all.  Alva  replied  that,  as  she  nad  often 
intimated  her  desire  fora  more  efficient  military  force,  he  had  come  to  aid  her 
in  the  execution  of  her  measures,  and  to  restore  peace  to  the  country  before 
the  arrival  of  his  majesty.38  The  answer  could  hardly  have  pleased  the 
duchess,  who  doubtless  considered  she  had  done  that,  without  his  aid,  already. 

The  discourse  fell  upon  the  mode  of  quartering  the  troops.  Alva  proposed 
to  introduce  a  Spanish  garrison  into  Brussels.  To  this  Margaret  objected  with 
great  energy.  But  the  duke  on  this  point  was  inflexible.  Brussels  was  the 
royal  residence,  and  the  quiet  of  the  city  could  only  be  secured  by  a  garrison. 
"  If  people  murmur,"  he  concluded, "  you  can  tell  them  I  am  a  headstrong 
man,  bent  on  having  my  own  way.  I  am  willing  to  take  all  the  odium  of  the 
measure  on  myself.  "  Thus  thwarted,  and  made  to  feel  her  inferiority  when 
any  question  of  real  power  was  involved,  Margaret  felt  the  humiliation  of  her 
position  even  more  keenly  than  before.  The  appointment  of  Alva  had  been 
from  the  first,  as  we  have  seen,  a  source  of  mortification  to  the  duchess.  In 
December,  1566,  soon  after  Philip  had  decided  on  sending  the  duke,  with  the 
authority  of  cap  tain -general,  to  the  Low  Countries,  he  announced  it  in  a 
letter  to  Margaret.  He  had  been  as  much  perplexed,  he  said,  in  the  choice  of 
a  commander  as  she  could  have  been  ;  and  it  was  only  at  her  suggestion  of  the 
necessity  of  some  one  to  take  the  military  command  that  he  had  made  such  a 
nomination.  Alva  was,  however,  only  to  prepare  the  way  for  him,  to  assemble 
a  force  on  the  frontier,  establish  the  garrisons,  and  enforce  discipline  among 
the  troops  till  he  came.*8  Philip  was  careful  not  to  alarm  his  sister  by  any 
hint  of  the  entraprdinary  powers  to  be  conferred  on  the  duke,  who  thus  seemed 
to  be  sent  only  in  obedience  to  her  suggestion  and  in  subordination  to  her 
authority.  Margaret  knew  too  well  that  Alva  was  not  a  man  to  act  in 
subordination  to  any  one.  But  whatever  misgivings  she  may  have  had,  she 
hardly  betrayed  them  in  her  reply  to  Philip,  in  the  following  February,  1567, 
when  she  told  the  king  she  "  was  sure  he  would  never  be  so  unjust,  and  do  a 
thing  so  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of  the  country,  as  to  transfer  to  another 
the  powers  he  had  vested  in  her."  *9 

The  appointment  of  Alva  may  have  stimulated  the  regent  to  the  extraordi- 
nary eilbrts  she  then  made  to  reduce  the  country  to  order.  When  she  had 

**  "Despues  de  haherse  eentado  le  dijo  el  que  yo  soy  cabezudo  y  qne  he  fstado  muy 

cont'-ntamiento  que  lenla  de  MI  venida  y  que  opinatre  en  saca-r  de  aquf  esta  gente,  que  yo 

ningun  otro  pudiera  vei.ir  con  quien  ella  mas  huelgo  de  que  it  mf  se  me  eche  la  culpa  y 

pe  holgnra."      Carta  de  Mendivil,  ap.  Docu-  de  llevar  el  odio  sobre  mi  a  trueque  de  que 

mentos  ine'ditos,  torn.  iv.  p.  404.  V.  E.  quede  descarpada."    Ibid.,  p.  408. 

^"Que   lo   que   jTincipalnunte  traia  era  M  Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  ii.  p.  524. 

estar  aquf  con  esta  gente  para  qne  la  jiisticia  2t  "  Tenendo  per  certo  che  V.  M.  non  vorra. 

fuese  obederida  y  resfetada,  y  log  mandami-  depautorizarmi,  per  autorizare  altri,  poi  die 

entos  de  S.  E.  ej  cut u das  y  que  S.  M.  u  su  questo  n<>n  e  giusto,  ne  manco  saria  servitio 

venida  hallase  esto  en  la  paz,  tranquilidad  y  suo,  se  non  gran  dantio  et  inconveniente  per 

•osiego  qne  era  razon."    Ibid.,  p.  406.  tutti  li  negotii  "    Correspondence  de  Philij.pe 

•T  "  Podrfise  escusar  con  estoa  diciendolcs  II.,  torn.  1.  p.  805. 


ANECDOTES  OF  THE  DUKE.  311 

achieved  this,  she  opened  her  mind  more  freely  to  her  brother,  in  a  letter 
dated  July  12th,  1567.  "The  name  of  Alva  was  so  odious  in  the  Netherlands 
that  it  was  enough  to  make  the  whole  Spanish  nation  detested.40  She  could 
never  have  imagined  that  the  king  would  make  such  an  appointment  without 
consulting  her.  She  then,  alluding  to  orders  lately  received  from  Madrid, 
shows  extreme  repugnance  to  carry  out  the  stern  policy  of  Philip,41— a  repug- 
nance, it  must  be  confessed,  that  seems  to  rest  less  on  the  character  of  the 
measures  than  on  the  difficulty  of  their  execution. 

When  the  duchess  learned  that  Alva  was  in  Italy,  she  wrote  also  to  him, 
hoping  at  this  late  hour  to  arrest  his  progress  by  the  assurance  that  the 
troubles  were  now  at  an  end  and  that  his  appearance  at  the  head  of  an  army 
would  only  serve  to  renew  them.  But  the  duke  was  preparing  for  his  march 
across  the  Alps,  and  it  would  have  been  as  easy  to  stop  the  avalanche  in  its 
descent  as  to  stay  the  onward  course  of  this  "  man  of  destiny." 

The  state  of  Margaret's  feelings  was  shown  by  the  chilling  reception  she 
gave  the  duke  on  his  arrival  in  Brussels.  The  extent  of  his  powers,  so  much 
beyond  what  she  had  imagined,  did  not  tend  to  soothe  the  irritation  of  the 
regent's  temper ;  and  the  result  of  the  subsequent  interview  filled  up  the 
measure  of  her  indignation.  However  forms  might  be  respected,  it  was  clear 
the  power  had  jiassetl  into  other  hands.  She  wrote  at  once  to  Philip,  request- 
ing, or  rather  requiring,  his  leave  to  withdraw  without  delay  from  the  country. 
"  If  he  had  really  felt  the  concern  he  professed  for  her  welfare  and  reputation, 
he  would  have  allowed  her  to  quit  the  government  before  being  brought  into 
rivalry  with  a  man  like  the  duke  of  Alva,  who  took  his  own  course  in  every- 
thing, without  the  least  regard  to  her.  It  afflicted  her  to  the  bottom  of  her 
soul  to  have  been  thus  treated  by  the  king."  *2 

It  may  have  given  some  satisfaction  to  Margaret  that  in  her  feelings  to- 
wards the  duke  she  had  the  entire  sympathy  of  the  nation.  In  earlier  days, 
in  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  Alva  had  passed  some  time  both  in  Germany 
and  in  the  Netherlands,  and  had  left  there  no  favourable  impression  of  his 
character.  In  the  former  country,  indeed,  his  haughty  deportment  on  a 
question  of  etiquette  had  caused  some  embarrassment  to  his  master.  Alva 
insisted  on  the  strange  privilege  of  the  Castilian  grandee  to  wear  his  hat  in 
the  presence  of  his  sovereign.  The  German  nobles,  scandalized  by  this  pre- 
tension in  a  subject,  asserted  that  their  order  had  as  good  a  right  to  it  as  the 
Spaniards.  It  was  not  without  difficulty  that  the  proud  duke  was  content  to 
waive  the  contested  privilege  till  his  return  to  Spain.4* 

Another  anecdote  of  Alva  had  left  a'still  more  unfavourable  impression  of 
his  character.  He  had  acconipanied  Charles  on  his  memorable  visit  to  Ghent, 
on  occasion  of  its  rebellion.  The  emperor  asked  the  duke's  counsel  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  he  should  deal  with  his  refractory  capital.  Alva  instantly 
answered,  "  Raze  it  to  the  ground  ! "  Charles,  w'ithout  replying,  took  the 
duke  with  him  to  the  battlements  of  the  castle ;  and,  as  their  eyes  wandered 
over  the  beautiful  city  spread  out  far  and  wide  below,  the  emperor  asked  him, 
with  a  pun  on  the  French  name  of  Ghent  (Gand),  how  many  Spanish  hides  it 
would  take  to  make  such  a  ylove  (>jant).  Alva,  who  saw  his  master's  dis- 
pleasure, received  the  rebuke  in  silence.  The  story,  whether  true  or  not,  was 
current  among  the  people  of  Flanders,  on  whom  it  produced  its  effect.44 

•"  II  v  cut  si  i«H<>ux  qu'll  snfflralt  Ay  de  It  conduite  du  Kol  a  Bon  egard."    Ibid., 

falre  hair  tout*  In  nation  espaguole."    Corre-  p.  667. 

apondance  de  Philipi*  II.,  tutu.  i.  p.  55ti.  "  Vaiulervynckt,  Trouble  s  dee  Fays-lias, 

41  Ibid.,  ubi  »upra.  torn.  II.  p.  207. 

••  "  Kile  e*t  aflectee,  Jtuq'au  food  de  I'&me,  "  ••  Seu  vera  ten  Beta,  faclli  Gandavcnsibus 


312  ALVA  SENT  TO  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

Alva  was  now  sixty  years  old.  It  was  not  likely  that  age  had  softened  the 
asperity  of  his  nature.  He  had,  as  might  be  expected,  ever  shown  himself  the 
uncompromising  enemy  of  the  party  of  reform  in  the  Low  Countries.  He  had 
opposed  the  concession  made  to  the  nation  by  the  recall  of  Granvelle.  The 
only  concessions  he  recommended  to  Philip  were  in  order  to  lull  the  suspicions 
of  the  great  lords  till  he  could  bring  them  to  a  bloody  reckoning  for  their 
misdeeds."  The  general  drift  of  his  policy  was  perfectly  understood  in  the 
Netherlands,  and  the  duchess  had  not  exaggerated  when  she  dwelt  on  the 
detestation  in  which  he  was  held  by  the  people. 

His  course  on  his  arrival  was  not  such  as  to  diminish  the  fears  of  the  nation. 
His  first  act  was  to  substitute  in  the  great  towns  his  own  troops,  men  who 
knew  no  law  but  the  will  of  their  chief,  for  the  Walloon  garrisons,  who  might 
naturally  have  some  sympathy  with  their  countrymen.  His  next  was  to  con- 
struct fortresses,  under  the  direction  of  one  of  the  ablest  engineers  in  Europe. 
The  hour  had  come  when,  in  the  language  of  the  prince  of  Orange,  his  country- 
men were  to  be  bridled  by  the  Spaniard. 

The  conduct  of  Alva's  soldiers  underwent  an  ominous  change.  Instead  of 
the  discipline  observed  on  the  march,  they  now  indulged  in  the  most  reckless 
license.  "  One  hears  everywhere,"  writes  a  Fleming  of  the  time,  "  of  the 
oppressions  of  the  Spaniards.  Confiscation  is  going  on  to  the  right  and  left. 
If  a  man  has  anything  to  lose,  they  set  him  down  at  once  as  a  heretic." 4B 
If  the  writer  may  be  thought  to  have  borrowed  something  from  his  fears," 
it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  panic  was  general  in  the  country.  Men  emi- 
grated by  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands,  carrying  with  them  to  other  lauds 
the  arts  and  manufactures  which  had  so  long  been  the  boast  and  the  source 
of  prosperity  of  the  Netherlands.48  Those  who  remained  were  filled  with  a 
dismal  apprehension, — a.  boding  of  coming  evil,  as  they  beheld  the  heavens 
darkening  around  them  and  the  signs  of  the  tempest  at  hand. 

A  still  deeper  gloom  lay  upon  Brussels,  once  the  gayest  city  in  the  Nether- 
lands,—now  the  residence  of  Alva.  All  business  was  suspended.  Places  of 
public  resort  were  unfrequented.  The  streets  were  silent  and  deserted. 
Several  of  the  nobles  and  wealthier  citizens  had  gone  to  their  estates  in  the 
country,  to  watch  there  the  aspect  of  events.49  Most  of  the  courtiers  who 

credits,  ab  iisque  in  reliquum  Belgium  cum  ing  some  of  the  principal  offenders  to  the 

Albani  odio  propagata."     Strada,  De  Bello  gibbet.    Burgon,  Life  of  Gresham,  vol.  ii.  pp. 

Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  368.  229,  230.      . 

*-  See  his  remarkable  letter  to  the  king,  of,  *'  The  duchess,  in  a  letter  to  Philip,  Sep- 

October  21st,  1563:  "A  log  que  d<  stos  mere-  tember  8th,  1567,  says  that  a  hundred  thou- 

cen,  qu  denies  les  cave$as,  hasta  poderlo  hace  sand  people  fled  the  country  on  the  coming  of 

dissimular  con  ellos."      Pupiers   d'fitat  de  Alva!    (Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p. 

Granvelle,  tom.  vli.  p.  233.  357.)    If  this  be  thought  a  round  exaggera- 

•"  "  \jt  s  Espaignols  font  les  plus  grandes  tion,  dictated  by  policy  or  by  fear,  still  there 

foulles  qu'on  ne  scauroit  escryre ;  ils  confis-  are  positive  proofs  that  the  emigration  at  this 

quent  tout,  a  tort,  a  droit.  dieant  que  touts  period  was  excessive.    Thus,  by  a  return  made 

font  heretiques,  qui  out  du  bien,  et  ont  a  per-  of  the  population  of  London  and  its  suburbs, 

dre." — The  indignant  writer  does  not  omit  to  this  very  year  of  1567,  it  appears  that  the 

mention  the  "  two  thousand"  strumpets  who  number  of  Flemings  was  as  large  as  that  of 

came   in   the  duke's  train;   "so,"  ne  adds,  all  other  for- igners  put  together.     See  Hulle- 

"  with  what  we  have  already,  there  will  be  no  tins  de  1' Academic  Royale  de  Bruxelles,  tom. 

lack  of  this  sort  of  wares  in  the  country."  xiv.  p.  127. 

l,ettre  de  Jean  de  Homes,  August  25th,  1567,  •"  Thus  Jean  de  Homes,  Baron  de  Boxtel, 

Coi  re^pondance  de  Philippe  II.,  tom.  i.  p.  565.  writes  to  the  prince  of  Orange  :  "  J'ay  prins 

47  C lough,  Sir  Thomas  Gresham's  agent,  une  rerolution  pour  mon  faict  et  est  que  je  lay 
who  was  in  the  Low  Countries  at  this  time,  tour  effort  de  scavoir  si  Ton  poulrast  estre 
mentions  the  license  of  the  Spaniards.  It  is  seuremeut  en  sa  tnaiaon :  si  ainsy  est,  me  re- 
but just  to  add  tli.it  he  says  the  government  tireray  en  une  des  miennes  le  plus  abstracte- 
took  prompt  measures  to  repress  it,  by  order-  ntent  que  po  sible  sera;  sinon,  regatderay  de 


POLICY  OF  THE  DUKE.  313 

remained — the  gilded  insects  that  loved  the  sunshine — had  left  the  regent's 
palace  and  gone  to  pay  their  homage  to  her  rival  at  Culemborg  House.  There 
everything  went  merrily  as  in  the  gayest  time  of  Brussels.  For  the  duke 
strove,  by  brilliant  entertainments  and  festivities,  to  amuse  the  nobles  and 
dissipate  the  gloom  of  the  capital.59 

In  all  this  Alva  had  a  deeper  motive  than  met  the  public  eye.  He  was 
carrying  out  the  policy  which  he  had  recommended  to  Philip.  By  courteous 
and  conciliatory  manners  he  hoped  to  draw  around  him  the  great  nobles, 
especially  such  as  had  been  at  all  mixed  up  with  the  late  revolutionary  move- 
ments. Of  these,  Egrnont  was  still  at  Brussels,  but  Hoorne  had  withdrawn 
to  his  estates  at  Weert.51  Hoogstraten  was  in  Germany  with  the  prince  of 
Orange.  As  to  the  latter,  Alva,  as  he  wrote  to  the  king,  could  not  flatter 
himself  with  the  hope  of  his  return.5* 

The  duke  and  his  son  Ferdinand  both  wrote  to  Count  Hoorne  in  the  most 
friendly  terms,  inviting  him  to  come  to  Brussels.*3  But  this  distrustful  nob  e- 
man  still  kept  aloof.  Alva,  in  a  conversation  with  the  count's  secretary, 
expressed  the  warmest  solicitude  for  the  health  of  his  master.  He  had  always 
been  his  friend,  he  said,  and  had  seen  with  infinite  regret  that  the  count's 
services  were  no  better  appreciated  by  the  king.54  But  Philip  was  a  good 
prince,  and,  if  slow  to  recompense,  the  count  would  find  him  not  ungrateful. 
Could  the  duke  but  see  the  count,  he  had  that  to  say  which  would  content 
him.  He  would  find  he  was  not  forgotten  by  his  friends."  This  last  as- 
surance had  a  terrible  significance.  Hoorne  yielded  at  length  to  an  invitation 
couched  in  terms  so  flattering.  With  Hoogstraten,  Alva  was  not  so  fortunate. 
His  good  genius,  or  the  counsel  of  Orange,  saved  him  from  the  snare,  and 
kept  nim  in  Germany.** 

Having  nothing  further  to  gain  by  delay,  Alva  determined  to  proceed 
at  once  to  the  execution  of  his  scheme.  On  the  ninth  of  September  the 
council  of  state  was  summoned  to  meet  at  Culemborg  House.  Egmont  and 
Hoorne  were  present ;  and  two  or  three  of  the  officers,  among  them  Paciotti, 
the  engineer,  were  invited  to  discuss  a  plan  of  fortification  for  some  of  the 
Flemish  cities.  In  the  mean  time,  strong  guards  had  been  posted  at  all  the 
avenues  of  the  house,  and  cavalry  drawn  together  from  the  country  and 
established  in  the  suburbs. 

The  duke  prolonged  the  meeting  until  information  was  privately  communi- 
cated to  him  of  the  arrest  of  Backerzele,  Egmont's  secretary,  and  Van  Stralen, 
the  burgomaster  of  Antwerp.  The  former  was  a  person  of  great  political 
sagacity,  and  deep  in  the  confidence  of  Egmont ;  the  latter,  the  friend  of 
Orange,  with  whom  he  was  still  in  constant  correspondence.  The  arrest  of 
Backerzele,  who  resided  in  Brussels,  was  made  without  difficulty,  and  po-sse-i- 
sion  was  taken  of  his  papers.  Van  Stralen  was  surrounded  by  a  body  of  horse 

chercher  qaelqne  residence  en  desoubs  ung  "  "  (^u'll  lui  avait  peine  infiniment  que  le 

aullre    Prince."      Archives   de    la    Malaon  Roi  n'eut  trim  romj>t-  de  monaeignour  et  de 

d 'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  iil.  p.  125.  st-s  services,  cumme  il  le  meritait."      Ibid., 

*"  Goethe,   in   bis  noble  tragedy  of  "  Eg-  ubi  supra. 

mont,"  seems  to  have  borrowed  a  hint  from  "  ••  VJue  s'll  voyait  M.  de  Homes,  II  lui 

Shakespeare's  "  blanket  of  the  dark,"  to  de-  dirait  des  choses  qui  le  satisferaient,  et  par 

pict  the  gloom  of  Brussels,— where  he  speaks  lesquelles  cclui-ci  con natt rait  quil  n 'avail  pas 

of  the  heavens  as  wrapt  in  a  dark  pall  from  etc  oublie  de  set  amis."     Ibid.,  p.  564. 

the  fatal  hour  when  the  duke  entered  the  city.  *•  According  to  Sirada,  Hoogstr  uen  actu- 

Act  iv.  Scene  1.  ally  set  out  to  return  to  Brussels,  but, detained 

'    Vera  y  Kigaeroa,  Vida  dc  Alva,  p.  HA.  by  Illness  or  some  other  cause  on  the  road, 

"*  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  he  fortunately  received  tidings  of  the  fate  of 

P-  678.  his  friend-,  in  season  to  profit  by  it  and  make 

"  Ibid.,  p.  M3.  hU  escape.     L)e  Bello  Bclgico,  tom.  i.  p.  j58. 


314  ALVA  SENT  TO  THE  NETHERLANDS. 

as  he  was  driving  out  of  Antwerp  in  his  carriage  ;  and  both  of  the  unfortunate 
gentlemen  were  brought  prisoners  to  Culemborg  House. 

As  soon  as  these  tidings  were  conveyed  to  Alva,  he  broke  up  the  meeting  of 
the  council.  Then,  entering  into  conversation  with  Egmont,  he  strolled  with 
him  through  the  adjoining  rooms,  in  one  of  which  was  a  small  body  of  soldiers. 
As  the  two  nobles  entered  the  apartment,  Sancho  Davila,  the  captain  of  the 
duke's  guard,  went  up  to  Egmont,  and  in  the  king's  name  demanded  his 
sword,  telling  him  at  the  same  time  he  was  his  prisoner.57  The  count, 
astounded  by  the  proceeding,  and  seeing  himself  surrounded  by  soldiers,  made 
no  attempt  at  resistance,  but  calmly,  and  with  much  dignity  in  his  manner, 
gave  up  his  sword,  saying,  at  the  same  time,  "  It  has  done  the  king  service 
more  tnan  once." i8  And  well  might  he  say  so ;  for  with  that  sword  he  had 
won  the  fields  of  Gravelines  and  St.  Quentin.59 

Hoorne  fell  into  a  similar  ambuscade,  in  another  part  of  the  palace,  whither 
he  was  drawn  while  conversing  with  the  duke's  son,  Ferdinand  de  Toledo, 
who,  according  to  his  father's  account,  had  the  whole  merit  of  arranging  this 
little  drama.60  Neither  did  the  admiral  make  any  resistance,  but,  on  learning 
Egmont's  fate,  yielded  himself  up,  saying  "  he  had  no  right  to  expect  to  fare 
better  than  his  friend." 8I 

It  now  became  a  question  as  to  the  disposal  of  the  prisoners.  Culemborg 
House  was  clearly  no  fitting  place  for  their  confinement.  Alva  caused  several 
castles  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Brussels  to  be  examined,  but  they  were  judged 
insecure.  He  finally  decided  on  Ghent.  The  strong  fortress  of  that  city  was 
held  by  one  of  Egmont's  own  partisans  ;  but  an  order  was  obtained  from  the 
count  requiring  him  to  deliver  up  the  keys  into  the  hands  of  Ulloa,  one  of 
Alva's  most  trusted  captains,  who,  at  the  head  of  a  corps  of  Spanish  veterans, 
marched  to  Ghent  and  relieved  the  Walloon  garrison  of  their  charge.  Ulloa 
gave  proof  of  his  vigilance,  immediately  on  his  arrival,  by  seizing  a  heavy 
wagon  loaded  with  valuables  belonging  to  Egmont,  as  it  was  leaving  the  castle 
gate.6* 

Having  completed  these  arrangements,  the  duke  lost  no  time  in  sending  the 
two  lords,  under  a  strong  military  escort,  to  Ghent.  Two  companies  of 
mounted  arquebusiers  rode  in  the  front.  A  regiment  of  Spanish  infantry, 
which  formed  the  centre,  guarded  the  prisoners  ;  one  of  whom,  Egmont,  was 
borne  in  a  litter  carried  by  mules,  while  Hoorne  was  in  his  own  carriage.  The 
rear  was  brought  up  by  three  companies  of  light  horse. 

Under  this  strong  guard  the  unfortunate  nobles  were  conducted  through 

"  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgian,  torn.  i.  p.  359. —  of  any  strange  event  of  recent  occurrence  are 

Ossorio,  Alba;  Vita,  torn.  ii.  p.  248. — Also  the  apt  todiffer:  "And  astouching  the  County  of 

memoirs  of  that  "Thunderbolt  of  War,"  as  Egmond,  he  was  (as  the  saying  ys)  appre- 

his  biographer  styles  him,  Sancho  Davila  him-  hendyd  by  the  Duke,  and  comyttyd  to  the 

self.     Hechos  de  Sanchu   Davila,  p.   29.— A  offysers:    whereuppon,  when    the    capytane 

report,  sufficiently  meagre,  of  the  affair,  was  that  had  charge  [of  him]  demandyd  hys  wea- 

sent  by  Alva  to  the  king.    In  this  no  mention  pon,  he  was  in  a  grett  rage ;  and  took  his  sword 

is  made  of  his  having  accompanied  Egmont  from  hys  syde,  and  cast  it  to  the  grounde." 

when  he  left  the  room  where  they  had  been  Burgon.  Life  of  Gresham,  vol.  ii.  p.  234. 

conferring    together.      See  Documentos    in-  "°  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i. 

editos.  torn.  ii.  p.  418.  p.  574. 

*"  "  Et  tamen   hoc   ferro  saepe  ego  Regis  "  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  35X 

causatn  non  infeliciter  defendi."    Strada,  De  — Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Bas,  fol.  54. — He- 

Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  359.  chos  de  Sancho  Davila.  p.  29.— Ossorio,  Albae 

"  Clough,    Sir   Thomas  Gresham's    corre-  Vita,  torn.  ii.  p.  248. — Vandervynckt,Troubles 

spondent,  in   a  letter  from  Brussels,  of  the  des  Pays-Bas,  torn.  ii.  p.  223. — Cocumentos 

same  date  with  the  arrest  of  Egmont,  givt  s  ineditos,  torn.  iv.  p.  418. 

an  account  of  his  bearing  on  the  occas-on,  "  Vundervynckt,  Troubles   des  Pays-Baa, 

which  differs  somewhat  from  that  in  the  text ;  torn.  ii.  p.  226. 
not  more,  however,  than  the  popular  rumours 


ARREST  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE.  315 

the  province  where  Egmont  had  lately  ruled  "  with  an  authority,"  writes  Alva's 
secretary,  "  greater  even  than  that  of  the  king.'1 83  But  no  attempt  was  made 
at  a  rescue ;  and  as  the  procession  entered  the  gates  of  Ghent,  where  Egmont  s 
popularity  was  equal  to  his  power,  the  people  gazed  in  stupefied  silence  on  the 
stern  array  that  was  conducting  their  lord  to  the  place  of  his  confinement.*4 

The  arrest  of  Egmont  and  Hoorne  was  known,  in  a  few  hours  after  it  took 
place,  to  every  innabitant  of  Brussels ;  and  the  tidings  soon  spread  to  the 
farthest  parts  of  the  country.  "  The  imprisonment  of  the  lords,  writes  Alva 
to  the  king,  "  has  caused  no  disturbance.  The  tranquillity  is  such  that  your 
majesty  would  hardly  credit  it."  "  True  ;  but  the  tranquillity  was  that  of  a 
man  stunned  by  a  heavy  blow.  If  murmurs  were  not  loud,  however,  they  were 
deep.  Men  mourned  over  the  credulity  of  the  two  counts,  who  had  so  blindly 
fallen  into  the  snare,  and  congratulated  one  another  on  the  forecast  of  the 
prince  of  Orange,  who  might  one  day  have  the  power  to  avenge  them."  The 
event  gave  a  new  spur  to  emigration.  In  the  space  of  a  few  weeks  no  less 
than  twenty  thousand  persons  are  said  to  have  tied  the  country.67  And  the 
exiles  were  not  altogether  drawn  from  the  humbler  ranks ;  for  no  one,  however 
high,  could  feel  secure  when  he  saw  the  blow  aimed  at  men  like  Egmont  and 
Hoorne,  the  former  of  whom,  if  he  had  given  some  cau*>e  of  distrust,  had  long 
since  made  his  peace  with  the  government. 

Count  Mansfeldt  made  haste  to  send  his  son  out  of  the  country,  lest  the 
sympathy  he  had  once  shown  for  the  confederates,  notwithstanding  his  recent 
change  of  opinion,  might  draw  on  him  the  vengeance  of  Alva.  The  old  count, 
whose  own  loyalty  cpuJd  not  be  impeached,  boldly  complained  of  the  arrest  of 
the  lords  as  an  infringement  on  the  rights  of  the  Toisan  d'  Or,  which  body 
alone  had  cognizance  of  the  causes  that  concerned  their  order,  intimating,  at 
the  same  time,  his  intention  to  summon  a  meeting  of  the  members.  But  he 
was  silenced  by  Alva,  who  plainly  told  him  that  if  the  chevaliers  of  the  order 
did  meet,  and  said  so  much  as  the  credo,  he  would  bring  them  to  a  heavy 
reckoning  for  it.  "  As  to  the  rights  of  the  Toison,  his  majesty  has  pronounced 
on  them,  said  the  duke,  "and  nothing  remains  for  you  but  to  submit."  *' 

The  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  the  two  highest  nobles  in  the  land,  members 
of  the  council  of  state,  and  that  without  any  communication  with  her,  was  an 
aHront  to  the  regent  which  she  could  not  brook.  It  was  in  vain  that  Alva 
excused  it  by  saying  it  had  been  done  by  the  order  of  the  king,  who  wished  to 
spajre  his  sister  the  unpopularity  which  must  attach  to  such  a  proceeding. 
Margaret  made  no  reply.  She  did  not  complain.  She  was  too  deeply  wounded 
to  complain.  But  she  wrote  to  Philip,  asking  him  to  consider  "  whether  it 
could  be  advantageous  to  him,  or  decorous  for  her,  whom  he  did  not  disdain  to 
call  his  sister,  that  she  should  remain  longer  in  a  place  of  which  the  authority 
was  so  much  abridged,  or  rather  anniliilated."  ••  She  sent  her  secretary, 

"  "Toutes  c«s  mesures  etalont  new-anal  res.  vol.  1.  p.  260. 

TO  la  grande  autorite  du  comte  d'Egmont  en  "  "yue,  s'il  apprenalt  quo  quelques-nns  en 

ces  pays,  qul  ne  connaissaient  d'autre  rui  que  flscent,  encore  nu'me  que  ce  fill  |>our  dire  le 

lui."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  11.,  turn.  i.  credo,  11  leg  cliatu-rait ;  que.  quant  aux  privi 

p.  582.  leges  de  1'Ordre,  le  Uoi,  apres  un  mi'ir  exaiurn 

"  Ibid.,   nbl  supra.  —  Meteren,   Hist,  des  de  cenx-cl,  avail  prononcl,  et  qu'un  devait  *.- 

Paj-R-llis,  fol.  54.  Boumettre."    Correspondaiice  de  Philippe  11., 

•'  "  L'emprisonnement  des  deux  comtes  ne  torn.  i.  p.  573. 

donne  lieu  a  aucune  rumeur ;  au  contraire,  la  "  "  Ado6  contracto  ac  pene  null"  cum  iin- 

tranqullllte  est  si  grande.  que  le   Kol  ne  le  perlo  moderari,  an  utlle  Regf,  an  decorum  el 

pourrait  cruire."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  quam  Ilex  sororetn  appellare  lion  Indignatur, 

II.,  torn.  I.  p.  575.  illu-    mwlit  itiotil    rellnqiure."      Strada,  De 

~  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgicn,  torn.  i.  p.  358.  Bcllo  Belgico,  torn  I.  p.  300. 

"  Brandt,IU'form»tiun  in  the  Low-Countries, 


316  CRUEL  POLICY  OF  ALVA. 

Machiavelli,  with  her  despatches,  requesting  an  immediate  reply  from  Philip, 
and  adding  that  if  it  were  delayed  she  should  take  silence  for  assent,  and 
forthwith  leave  the  country. 

The  duke  of  Alva  was  entirely  resigned  to  the  proposed  departure  of 
Margaret.  However  slight  the  restraint  her  presence  might  impose  on  his 
conduct,  it  exacted  more  deference  than  was  convenient,  and  compelled  him 
to  consult  appearances.  Now  that  he  had  shown  his  hand,  he  was  willing  to 
play  it  out  boldly  to  the  end.  His  first  step  after  the  arrest  of  the  lords  was  to 
organize  that  memorable  tribunal  for  inquiring  into  the  troubles  of  the  country, 
which  has  no  parallel  in  history  save  in  the  revolutionary  tribunal  of  the 
French  republic.  The  duke  did  not  shrink  from  assuming  the  sole  responsi- 
bility of  his  measures.  He  said,  "  it  was  better  for  the  king  to  postpone  his 
visit  to  the  Netherlands,  so  that  his  ministers  might  bear  alone  the  odium  of 
these  rigorous  acts.  When  these  had  been  performed,  he  might  come  like  a 
gracious  prince,  dispensing  promises  and  pardon."  T0 

This  admirable  coolness  must  be  referred  in  part  to  Alva's  consciousness 
that  his  policy  would  receive  the  unqualified  sanction  of  his  master.  Indeed, 
his  correspondence  shows  that  all  he  had  done  in  the  Low  Countries  was  in 
accordance  with  a  plan  preconcerted  with  Philip.  The  arrest  of  the  Flemish 
lords,  accordingly,  gave  entire  satisfaction  at  the  court  of  Madrid,  where  it 
was  looked  on  as  the  first  great  step  in  the  measures  of  redress.  It  gave  equal 
contentment  to  the  court  of  Rome,  where  it  was  believed  that  the  root  of 
heresy  was  to  be  reached  only  by  the  axe  of  the  executioner.  Yet  there  was 
one  person  at  that  court  of  more  penetration  than  those  around  him,  the  old 
statesman  Granvelle,  who,  when  informed  of  the  arrest  of  Egmont  and  Hoorne, 
inquired  if  the  duke  had  " also  drawn  into  his  net  the  Silent  one" — as  the 
prince  of  Orange  was  popularly  called.  On  being  answered  in  the  negative, 
"  Then,"  said  the  cardinal, "  if  he  has  not  caught  him,  he  has  caught  nothing." ;1 


CHAPTER  II. 

CRUEL  POLICY  OF  ALVA. 

The  Council  of  Blood— Its  Organization— General  Prosecutions— Civil  War  in  France— 
Departure  of  Margaret — Her  Administration  reviewed. 

1566. 

"  THANK  God,"  writes  the  duke  of  Alva  to  his  sovereign,  on  the  twenty-fourth 
of  October,  "  all  is  tranquil  in  the  Low  Countries." '  It  was  the  same  senti- 
ment he  had  uttered  a  few  weeks  before.  All  was  indeed  tranquil.  Silence 
reigned  throughout  the  land.  Yet  it  might  have  spoken  more  eloquently  to 
the  heart  than  the  murmurs  of  discontent  or  the  loudest  tumult  of  insurrection. 
'They  say  many  are  leaving  the  country,"  he  writes  in  another  despatch. 
"  It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  arrest  them.  The  repose  of  the  nation  is  not  to 

»  «  ji  vaut  mienx  que  le  Roi  attende,  pour  (sic  Orangium  nominabat).  atque  eo  negante 

vetiir,  que  tous  les  actes  de  rigueur  aient  <ste  dixisse  fertur,  Uno  illo  retihus  non  incluoo, 

faits;  il  entrera  alors  dans  le  pays  conime  niliil  ab  Duce  Albano  captum."    Strada,  De 

prince  benin  et  clement,  parUonnant,  et  ac-  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  360. 
cordantdes fa veursaceuxqut  1'aurunt merits."  '  "Grace  a  Dieu,  tout    est    parfaitement 

Correspon  iance  de  Philippe  II. .torn  i.  p.  577.  tranqnille  aux  Pays-Has."     Correspondance 

71  "  AD  captus  quoque  fuirset  Taciturnus  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  589. 


THE  COUNCIL  OF  BLOOD.  317 

be  brought  about  by  cutting  off  the  heads  of  those  who  are  led  astray  by 
others."* 

Yet  in  less  than  a  week  after  this  we  find  a  royal  ordinance  declaring  that, 
"  whereas  his  majesty  is  averse  to  use  rigour  towards  those  who  have  taken 
part  in  the  late  rebellion,  and  would  rather  deal  with  them  in  all  gentleness 
and  mercy,*  it  is  forbidden  to  any  one  to  leave  the  land,  or  to  send  off  his 
effects,  without  obtaining  a  license  from  the  authorities,  under  pain  of  being 
regarded  as  having  taken  part  in  the  late  troubles,  and  of  being  dealt  with 
accordingly.  All  masters  and  owners  of  vessels  who  shall  aid  such  persons  in 
their  flight  shall  incur  the  same  penalties." 4  The  penalties  denounced  in  this 
spirit  of  "  gentleness  and  mercy  were  death  and  confiscation  of  property. 

That  the  law  was  not  a  dead  letter  was  soon  shown  by  the  arrest  of  ten  of 
the  principal  merchants  of  Tournay  as  they  were  preparing  to  fly  to  foreign 
parts,  and  by  the  immediate  confiscation  of  their  estates.*  Yet  Alva  would 
have  persuaded  the  world  that  he,  as  well  as  his  master,  was  influenced  only 
by  sentiments  of  humanity.  To  the  Spanish  ambassador  at  Rome  he  wrote, 
soon  after  the  seizure  of  the  Flemish  lords,  "  I  might  have  arrested  more ; 
but  the  king  is  averse  to  shedding  the  blood  of  his  people.  I  have  the  same 
disposition  myself.*  I  am  pained  to  the  bottom  of  my  soul  by  the  necessity  of 
the  measure." 

But  now  that  the  great  nobles  had  come  into  the  snare,  it  was  hardly  neces- 
sary to  keep  up  the  atil-ctation  of  lenity ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  he 
threw  away  the  mask  altogether.  The  arm  of  justice— <>f  vengeance— was 
openly  raised  to  strike  down  all  who  had  offended  by  taking  part  in  the  late 
disturbances. 

The  existing  tribunals  were  not  considered  as  competent  to  this  work.  The 
regular  forms  of  procedure  were  too  dilatory,  and  the  judges  themselves  would 
hardly  be  found  subservient  enough  to  the  will  of  Alva.  He  created,  there- 
fore, a  new  tribunal,  with  extraordinary  powers,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  investi- 
gating the  causes  of  the  late  disorders  and  for  bringing  the  authors  to 
punishment.  It  was  called  originally  the  "  Council  of  his  Excellency."  The 
name  was  soon  changed  for  that  of  the  "  Council  of  Tumults."  But  the  tribunal 
is  better  known  in  history  by  the  terrible  name  it  received  from  the  people,  of 
the  "  Council  of  Blood.  * 

It  was  composed  of  twelve  judges,  "  the  most  learned,  upright  men,  and  of 
the  purest  lives," — if  we  may  take  the  duke's  word  for  it,— that  were  to  be 
found  in  the  country.*  Among  them  were  Noircarmes  and  Barlaimont,  both 
members  of  the  council  of  state.  The  latter  was  a  proud  noble,  of  one  of  the 
nio.-t  ancient  families  in  the  land,  inflexible  in  his  character,  and  stanch  in  his 
devotion  to  the  crown.  Besides  these  there  were  the  presidents  of  the  councils 

*  "Le  repos  au*  Pays-Has  ne  conflate  pas  Tornac/>nses  e  portu  Fllosingftno  fugam  in 
ii  falre  eouper  la  t<~tc  i  deft  homines  qtil  >e  Britanniam  adomanti-s  c»pi.  »c  bonis  exutos 
«ont  laisBe  persuader  par  d'autres."    Coire-  custodiri  Jubet."     Strada,  DC  Hello  Delgico, 
spomlance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  1.  p.  576.  turn.  I.  p.  361. 

'  "Os  babem  o*  hecho  pntcnder  que  nuentra  •  "Mats  1'intcntlon  de  S.  M.  n'est  pas  de 

Intencion  . m  de  no  n-.ir  de  riftor  contra  nue*-  venter  le  sang  de  sea  Kiijetx,  et  moi,  de  mon 

tros  stibfcetoe  que  duraute  la*  revueltdx  pa-  nature),  je  ne  I'aitne  pan  davuntage."    Cur- 

Mulus   pndieocn  haber  ofendido   contra   Nos,  renpondanco  de  1'hillppe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  576. 
t mo  df  Uxla  dulcura  y  i-ltatmiia.  ityun  nu-  '  "  Novum  igitur  conscssum  judicum  Itmti- 

ettra    inclinacitm    natural."      Ducumentos  tull,  «-xt  ri-  In  eum  plerisque  adscitis  ;  quom 

In i-il  .  t'>m.  Iv.  p.  440.  Turbarutu  tile;  plebeft,  Sanguinl*  appellaliat 

4  The    ordinance,  data!   Soptembcr    IHtb,  S»'ii»tutn."       IM.Iani    Annalcs    (Lngduniiiu 

1667,  copied  from  the  Archive*  of  Slmancait,  Batavurum,  1633),  p.  5. 

in  to  be  found  In  the  Documentos  Inedltos,  '  "  I/e«  plus  savants  et  leu  plus  integron  du 

torn.  Iv.  p.  439.  H  «q.  pay8*  et('e  '*  mellleurr  vie."   CorresiH>mlanc« 

•  "SUtimque  mcrcatore*  decem  primarioa  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  p.  676. 


318  CRUEL  POLICY  OF  ALVA. 

of  Artois  and  Flanders,  the  chancellor  of  Gueldres,  and  several  jurists  of 
repute  in  the  country.  But  the  persons  of  most  consideration  in  the  body 
were  two  lawyers  who  had  come  in  the  duke's  train  from  Castile.  One  of 
these,  the  doctor  Del  Rio,  though  born  in  Bruges,  was  of  Spanish  extraction. 
His  most  prominent  trait  seems  to  have  been  unlimited  subserviency  to  the 
will  of  his  employer.9  The  other,  Juan  de  Vargas,  was  to  play  the  most  con- 
spicuous part  in  the  bloody  drama  that  followed.  He  was  a  Spaniard,  and 
had  held  a  place  in  the  Council  of  the  Indies.  His  character  was  infamous ; 
and  he  was  said  to  have  defrauded  an  orphan  ward  of  her  patrimony.10  When 
he  left  Spain,  two  criminal  prosecutions  are  reported  to  have  been  hanging 
over  him.  This  only  made  him  the  more  dependent  on  Alva's  protection.  He 
was  a  man  of  great  energy  of  character,  unwearied  in  application  to  business, 
unscrupulous  in  the  service  of  his  employer,  ready  at  any  price  to  sacrifice  to 
his  own  interest  not  only  every  generous  impulse,  but  the  common  feelings  of 
humanity.  Such,  at  least,  are  the  dark  colours  in  which  he  is  portrayed  by 
the  writers  of  a  nation  which  held  him  in  detestation.  Yet  his  very  vices  made 
him  so  convenient  to  the  duke  that  the  latter  soon  bestowed  on  him  more  of 
his  confidence  than  on  any  other  of  his  followers  ;  "  and  in  his  correspondence 
with  Philip  we  perpetually  find  him  commending  Vargas  to  the  monarch's 
favour,  and  contrasting  his  "  activity,  altogether  juvenile,"  with  the  apathy  of 
others  of  the  council.1*  As  Vargas  was  unacquainted  with  Flemish,  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  court  were  conducted,  for  his  benefit,  in  Latin.13  Yet  he  was 
such  a  bungler  even  in  this  language  that  his  blunders  furnished  infinite 
merriment  to  the  people  of  Flanders,  who  took  some  revenge  for  their  wrongs 
in  the  ridicule  of  their  oppressor. 

As  the  new  court  had  cognizance  of  all  cases,  civil  as  well  as  criminal,  that 
grew  out  of  the  late  disorders,  the  amount  of  business  soon  pressed  on  them  so 
heavily  that  it  was  found  expedient  to  distribute  it  into  several  departments 
among  the  different  members.  Two  of  the  body  had  esj  ecial  charge  of  the 
processes  of  the  prince  of  Orange,  his  brother  Louis,  Hoogstraten,  Culemborg, 
and  the  rest  of  William's  noble  companions  in  exile.  To  Vargas  and  Del  Rio 
was  intrusted  the  trial  of  Counts  Egmont  and  Hoorne.  And  two  others, 
Blasere  and  Hessels,  had  the  most  burdensome  and  important  charge  of  all 
such  causes  as  came  from  the  provinces.14 

The  latter  of  these  two  worthies  was  destined  to  occupy  a  place  second  only 
to  that  of  Vargas  on  the  bloody  roll  of  persecution.  He  was  a  native  of  Ghent, 
of  sufficient  eminence  in  his  profession  to  fill  the  office  of  attorney-general  of 
his  province  under  Charles  the  Fifth.  In  that  capacity  he  enforced  the  edicts 
with  so  much  rigour  as  to  make  himself  odious  to  his  countrymen.  In  the 
new  career  now  opened  to  him  he  found  a  still  wider  field  for  his  mischievous 
talents,  and  he  entered  on  the  duties  of  his  office  with  such  hearty  zeal  as  soon 
roused  general  indignation  in  the  people,  who  at  a  later  day  took  terrible  ven- 
geance on  their  oppressor.15 

•  Correspondance  de  Marguerite  d'Autriche,  "  Bulletins  de  1'Academie  Royale  de  Bel- 

p.  300.  glque,  torn.  xvi.  par.  ii.  p.  58. 

10  Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Baa,  fol.  64.  ''  Vandervynckt.  Troubles   des  Pays-Bos, 

11  Viglius,  who  bad  not  yet  seen  the  man,  torn.  ii.  p.  242. — Hessels  was  married  to  a 
thus  mentions  him  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  niece  of  Viglius.    According  to  the  old  conn- 
Hopper  :    "  Impcrium    ac  rigorem   met  mint  cillor,  she  was  on  bad  terms  with  her  husband, 
cujusdam   Vergasi,  qui  apud   cum  multum  because  he  had  not  kept  his  promise  of  re- 
posse,  et  nescio  quid  aliud,  dicitur."     Epist.  signing  the  office  of  attorney-general,  in  which 
ad  Hopperum,  p.  451.  he  made  himself  so  unpopular  in  Flanders. 

•"  "  Une  activite  tout*  juvenile."  Corre-  (Epist.  ad  Hopperum,  p.  495.)  In  the  last 
spondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  583.  chapter  of  this  Book  the  reader  will  find  some 

"  Ibid.,  ubi  supra.  mention  of  the  tragic  fate  of  Hessels. 


THE  COUNCIL  OF  BLOOD.  319 

As  soon  as  the  Council  of  Troubles  was  organized,  commissioners  were 
despatched  into  the  provinces  to  hunt  out  the  suspected  parties.  All  who 
had  officiated  as  preachers,  or  had  harboured  or  aided  them,  who  had  joined 
the  consistories,  who  had  assisted  in  defacing  or  destroying  the  Catholic 
churches  or  in  building  the  Protestant,  who  had  subscribed  the  Compromise, 
or  who,  in  short,  had  taken  an  active  part  in  the  late  disorders,  were  to  be 
arrested  as  guilty  of  treason.  In  the  hunt  after  victims,  informations  were 
invited  from  every  source.  Wives  were  encouraged  to  depose  against  hus- 
bands, children  against  parents.  The  prisons  were  soon  full  to  overflowing, 
and  the  provincial  and  the  local  magistrates  were  busy  in  filing  informations 
of  the  different  cases,  which  were  forwarded  to  the  court  at  Brussels.  When 
deemed  of  sufficient  importance,  the  further  examination  of  a  case  was 
reserved  for  the  council  itself.  But  for  the  most  part  the  local  authorities, 
or  a  commission  sent  expressly  for  the  purpose,  were  authorized  to  try  the 
cause,  proceeding  even  to  a  definitive  sentence,  which,  with  the  grounds  of  it, 
they  were  to  lay  before  the  Council  of  Troubles.  The  process  was  then 
revised  by  the  committee  for  the  provinces,  who  submitted  the  result  of  their 
examination  to  Vargas  and  Del  Rio.  The  latter  were  alone  empowered  to 
vote  in  the  matter,  and  their  sentence,  prepared  in  writing,  was  laid  before 
the  duke,  who  reserved  to  himself  the  right  of  a  final  decision.  This  he  did, 
as  he  wrote  to  Philip,  that  he  might  not  come  too  much  under  the  direction 
of  the  council  "  Your  majesty  well  knows,"  he  concludes,  "  that  gentlemen 
of  the  law  are  unwilling  to  decide  anything  except  upon  evidence,  while  mea- 
sures of  state  policy  are  not  to  be  regulated  by  the  laws."  u 

It  might  be  supposed  that  the  different  judges  to  whom  the  prisoner's  case 
was  thus  separately  submitted  for  examination  would  have  afforded  an  addi- 
tional guarantee  for  his  security.  But  quite  the  contrary :  it  only  multiplied 
the  chances  of  his  conviction.  When  the  provincial  committee  presented 
their  report  to  Vargas  and  Del  Rio, — to  whom  a  Spanish  jurist,  auditor  of  the 
chancery  of  Valladolid,  named  Roda,  was  afterwards  added, — if  it  proposed 
sentence  of  death,  these  judges  declared  it  "  was  right,  and  that  there  was  no 
necessity  of  reviewing  the  process."  If,  on  the  contrary,  a  lower  penalty  was 
recommended,  the  worthy  ministers  of  the  law  were  in  the  habit  of  returning 
the  process,  ordering  th'e  committee,  with  bitter  imprecations,  to  revise  it 
more  carefully ! " 

As  confiscation  was  one  of  the  most  frequent  as  well  as  momentous  penal- 
ties adjudged  by  the  Council  of  Blood,  it  necessarily  involved  a  large  number 
of  civil  actions  ;  for  the  estate  thus  forfeited  was  often  burdened  with  heavy 
claims  on  it  by  other  parties.  These  were  all  to  be  established  before  the 
council.  One  may  readily  comprehend  how  small  was  the  chance  of  justice 
before  such  a  tribunal,  where  the  creditor  was  one  of  the  parties  and  the 
crown  the  other.  Even  if  the  suit  was  decided  in  favour  of  the  creditor,  it 
was  usually  so  long  protracted,  and  attended  with  such  ruinous  expense,  that 
it  would  have  been  better  for  him  never  to  have  urged  it." 

The  jurisdiction  of  the  court,  within  the  limits  assigned  to  it,  wholly  super- 
seded that  of  the  great  court  of  Mechlin,  as  well  as  of  every  other  tribunal, 

'•  "  Letradoa  no  nentencian  slno  en  caaos  habia  ma*  que  ver ;  empero,  »l  el  aviso  era 

probadoa;  y  como  V.  M.  sabe.  Ion  negocioa  de  dc  nienor  pena,  no  se  entaba  a  lo  (|iie  olios 

Entado  son  muy  (liferenteu  de  la*  leyps  que  declan,  Kino  tornabaM  fi  ver  el  proceno,  y  <!<•- 

elloB    tienen."      Bulletins     de     I'Academie  cianles  Bobre  ello  tualax  palabras,  y  liacUnles 

Itoyale  de  Belgique,  torn.  xvi.  par.  II.  p.  62,  ruin  tratamlento."    (larlmrd  ciu-s  tbe  words  of 

note.  the  official  document.  Ibid.,  p.  67. 

17  "En  Klendo  el   aviso  de  condcmnar   a  "  Ibid.,  p.  68,  ei  seq. 

muerte,  M  decla  que  estab*  muy  blen  y  no 


320  CRUEL  POLICY  OP  ALVA. 

provincial  or  municipal,  in  the  country.  Its  decisions  were  final.  By  the  law 
of  the  land,  established  by  repeated  royal  charters  in  the  provinces,  no  man 
in  the  Netherlands  could  be  tried  by  any  but  a  native  judge.  But  of  the 
present  court,  one  member  was  a  native  of  Burgundy  and  two  were  Spaniards. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  a  tribunal  with  such  enormous  powers,  •which 
involved  so  gross  an  outrage  on  the  constitutional  rights  and  long-established 
usages  of  the  nation,  would  at  least  have  been  sanctioned  by  some  warrant 
from  the  crown.  It  could  pretend  to  nothing  of  the  kind, — not  even  a  written 
commission  from  the  duke  of  Alva,  the  man  who  created  it.  By  his  voice 
alone  he  gave  it  an  existence.  The  ceremony  of  induction  into  office  was 
performed  by  the  new  member  placing  his  hands  between  those  of  the  duke 
and  swearing  to  remain  true  to  the  faith,  to  decide  in  all  cases  according  to 
his  sincere  conviction,  finally,  to  keep  secret  all  the  doings  of  the  council  and 
to  denounce  any  one  who  disclosed  them.19  A  tribunal  clothed  with  such 
unbounded  power,  and  conducted  on  a  plan  so  repugnant  to  all  principles  of 
justice,  fell  nothing  short,  in  its  atrocity,  of  that  Inquisition  so  much  dreaded 
in  the  Netherlands. 

Alva,  in  order  to  be  the  better  able  to  attend  the  council,  appointed  his  own 
palace  for  the  place  of  meeting.  At  first  the  sittings  were  held  morning  and 
afternoon,  lasting  sometimes  seven  hours  in  a  day.20  There  was  a  general 
attendance  of  the  members,  the  duke  presiding  in  person.  After  a  few 
months,  as  he  was  drawn  to  a  distance  by  more  pressing  affairs,  he  resigned 
his  place  to  Vargas.  Barlaimont  and  Noircarmes,  disgusted  with  the  atro- 
cious character  of  the  proceedings,  soon  absented  themselves  from  the  meet- 
ings. The  more  respectable  of  the  members  imitated  their  exajnple.  One  of 
the  body,  a  Burgundian,  a  follower  of  Granvelle,  having  criticised  the  pro- 
ceedings somewhat  too  freely,  had  leave  to  withdraw  to  his  own  province ; 2l 
till  at  length  only  three  or  four  councillors  remained,— Vargas,  Del  Rio, 
Hessels  and  his  colleague,— on  whom  the  despatch  of  the  momentous  business 
wholly  devolved.  To  some  of  the  processes  we  find  not  more  than  three  names 
subscribed  The  duke  was  as  indifferent  to  forms  as  he  was  to  the  rights  of 
the  nation.2* 

'•  "Qii'ilsseraientetdemeureraientajamais  not  taste  the  bitterness  of  them;"— a  noble 

bons    catholicities,    selon    que    commandait  maxim,  if  the  motive  had  been  noble.    See 

I'figlise  catliolique  romaine;  que,  par  haine,  Levesque,  Memoires  de  Granvelle,  torn.  ii. 

amour,  pitie  ou  crainte  de  personne,  ils  ne  pp.  91-94. 

laisseraient  de  dire  franchement  et  sincere-  *"  The  historians  of  the  time  are  all  more 

ment  leur  avis,  scion  qu'en  bonne  justice  ils  or  less  diffuse  on  the  doings  of  the  Council  of 

trouvaientconvenir  et  appartenir;  qu'ilstien-  Troubles,  written  as  they  are  in  characters  of 

draient  secret  tout  ce  qui  se  traiterait  au  con-  blood.     But  we  look  in  vain  for  any  account 

seil,  et  qu'ils  accuseraient  ceux  qui  feraient  of  the  interior  organization  of  that  tribunal, 

le rontraire."    Bulletinsde  I'  Academic  Royale  or  of  its  mode  of  judicial  procedure.     This 

de  Beluique,  t»m.  xvi.  par.  ii.  p.  56.  may  be  owing  to  the  natural  reluctance  which 

•"  Ibid.,  p.  57.  the  actors  themselves  felt,  in  later  times,  to 

"  Belin,  in  a  letter  to  his  patron,  Cardinal  being  mixed  up  with  the  proceedings  of  a 

Granvelle,  gives  full  vent  to  bis  discontent  court  so  universally  detested.     For  the  same 

with  "three  or  four  Spaniards  in  the  duke's  reason,  as  Gachard  intimates,  they  may  not 

train,  who  would  govern  all   in   his  name.  improbably  have  even  destroyed  some  of  the 

They  make  but  one  head  under  the  same  hat."  records  of  its  proceedings.     Fortunately,  that 

He  mentions  Vargas  and  I>el  Rio  in  par  icular.  zealous  and  patriotic  scholar  has  discov.  red 

Granvelle's  reply  is  very  characteristic.     Far  in  the  archives  of  Simancus  sundry  letters  of 

from   sympathizing  with   his  querulous  fol-  Alva  and  his  successor,  as  well  as  i-ome  of  the 

lower,  he  predicts  the  ruin  of  his  fortunes  by  official  records  of  the  tribunal,  which  in   a 

this  mode  of  proceeding.     •' A  man  who  would  great  degree  supply  the  defect.     The  result 

rise  in  courts  must  do  as  he  is  bidden,  without  he  has  emb-  died  in  a  luminous  paper  prepared 

question.    Far  from  taking  umbrage,  he  must  for  the  Royal  Academy  of  Belgium,  which 

bear  in  mind  ti  at  injuries,  like  pills,  should  has  supplied  me  with  the  materials  for  the 

be  swallowed  without  chewing,  that  one  may  preceding  pages.    See  Bulle'iusde  1' Academic 


GENERAL  PROSECUTIONS.  321 

It  soon  became  apparent  that,  as  in  most  proscriptions,  wealth  was  the 
mark  at  which  persecution  was  mainly  directed.  At  least,  if  it  did  not 
actually  form  a  ground  of  accusation,  it  greatly  enhanced  the  chances  of  a 
conviction.  The  commissioners  sent  to  the  provinces  received  written  instruc- 
tions to  ascertain  the  exact  amount  of  property  belonging  to  the  suspected 
parties.  The  expense  incident  on  the  maintenance  of  so  many  officials,  as 
well  as  of  a  large  military  force,  pressed  heavily  on  the  government ;  and  Alva 
soon  found  it  necessary  to  ask  for  support  from  Madrid.  .It  was  in  vain  he 
attempted  to  obtain  a  loan  from  the  merchants.  "  They  refuse,"  he  writes, 
"  to  advance  a  real  on  the  security  of  the  confiscations,  till  they  see  how  the 
game  we  have  begun  is  likely  to  prosper  ! "  M 

In  another  letter  to  Philip,  dated  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  October,  Alva, 
expressing  his  regret  at  the  necessity  of  demanding  supplies,  says  that  the 
Low  Countries  ought  to  maintain  themselves  and  be  no  tax  upon  Spain,  lie 
is  constantly  thwarted  by  the  duchess,  and  by  the  council  of  finance,  in  his 
appropriation  of  the  confiscated^roperty.  Could  he  only  manage  things  in 
his  own  way,  he  would  answer  for  it  that  the  Flemish  cities,  uncertain  and 
anxious  as  to  their  fate,  would  readily  acquiesce  in  the  fair  means  of  raising  a 
revenue  proposed  by  the  king.**  The  ambitious  general,  eager  to  secure  the 
sole  authority  to  himself,  artfully  touched  on  the  topic  which  would  be  most 
likely  to  operate  with  his  master.  In  a  note  on  this  passage,  in  his  own  hand- 
writing, Pnilip  remarked  that  this  was  but  just,  but,  as  he  feared  that  sup- 
plies would  never  be  raised  with  the  consent  of  the  states,  Alva  must  devise 
some  expedient  by  which  their  consent  in  the  matter  might  be  dispensed  with, 
and  communicate  it  privately  to  him."  This  pregnant  thought  he  soon  after 
develops  more  fully  in  a  letter  to  the  duke.28  It  is  edifying  to  observe  the 
cool  manner  in  which  the  king  and  his  general  discuss  the  best  means  for 
niching  a  revenue  from  the  pockets  of  the  good  people  of  the  Netherlands. 

Margaret, — whose  name  now  rarely  appears,— scandalized  by  the  plan 
avowea  of  wholesale  persecution,  and  satisfied  that  blood  enough  had  been 
shed  already,  would  fain  have  urged  her  brother  to  grant  a  general  pardon. 
But  to  this  the  duke  strongly  objected.  "  He  would  have  every  man,"  he 
wrote  to  Philip,  "  feel  that  any  day  his  house  might  fall  about  his  ears.17 
Thus  private  individuals  would  be  induced  to  pay  larger  sums  by  way  of  com- 
position for  their  offences." 

As  the  result  of  the  confiscations,  owing  to  the  drams  upon  them  above 
alluded  to,  proved  less  than  he  expected,  the  duke,  somewhat  later,  proposed 
a  tax  of  one  per  cent,  on  all  property,  personal  and  real.  But  to  this  some  of 
the  council  had  the  courage  to  object,  as  a  thing  not  likely  to  be  relished  by 
the  states.  "That  depends,"  said  Alva,  "on  the  way  in  which  they  are 
approached."  He  had  as  little  love  for  the  states-general  as  his  master,  and 
looked  on  applications  to  them  for  money  as  something  derogatory  to  the 
crown.  u  I  would  take  care  to  ask  for  it,  he  said,  "  as  1  did  wnen  I  wanted 

Royalede*  Sciences,  de*  Lettres.  rt  dea  Beaux-  los   Entados,  no  se  ballaran  estas,  que  es 

An*  de  Relgique,  torn.  xvi.  par.  il.  pp.  50-78.  jnenester  ponerlos  do  manors  quo  no  sea  nic- 

"  "  Hasta  quc  vean  en  quo  para  este  Juogo  nestcr  MI  voluntad  y  conaentlniicnto  para  olio. 

que  tte  comit-ncj."     Correspondance  de  Phi-  .  .  .  Krto  Ird  en  clfra,  y  aun  creo  que  «oria 

llppe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  598.  bien  que  fueae  en  una  cartllla  a  pane  que 

"  "Car  1'lncertltude  on  celles-cl  se  trouvont  deacUrane  el    mas   confldente."     Ibid.,  ubl 

du  sort  qn'on  leur  reserve,  le*  fera  plu§  alite-  supra, 

ment  conientlr  aux  moyensde  finances  Jurtea  *•  Ibid.,  p.  610. 

rt  bonnet™  qul  ncront  etablls  par  le  Kol."  "  "  Para  quc  c*da  uno  plense  que  &  la 

Ibid.,  p.  590.  n<K  IIP,  6  i  la  mafiana,  se  le  puede  cucr  U  caaa 

"  "  Purquc  cero  yo  quc,  con  la  voluntad  de  cncima."    Ibid  ,  p.  4. 

V 


322  CRUEL  POLICY  OF  ALVA. 

money  to  build  the  citadel  of  Antwerp, — in  such  a  way  that  they  should  not 
care  to  refuse  it." 28 

The  most  perfect  harmony  seems  to  have  subsisted  between  the  king  and 
Alva  in  their  operations  for  destroying  the  liberties  of  the  nation, — so  perfect, 
indeed,  that  it  could  have  been  the  result  only  of  some  previous  plan,  concerted 
probably  while  the  duke  was  in  Castile.  The  details  of  the  execution  were 
doubtless  left,  as  they  arose,  to  Alva's  discretion.  But  they  so  entirely  re- 
ceived the  royal  sanction — as  is  abundantly  shown  by  the  correspondence — 
that  Philip  may  be  said  to  have  made  every  act  of  his  general  his  own.  And 
not  unfrequently  we  find  the  monarch  improving  on  the  hints  of  his  corre- 
spondent by  some  additional  suggestion.29  Whatever  evils  grew  out  of  the 
mal-administration  of  the  duke  of  Alva,  the  responsibility  for  the  measures 
rests  ultimately  on  the  head  of  Philip. 

One  of  the  early  acts  of  the  new  council  was  to  issue  a  summons  to  the 
prince  of  Orange,  and  to  each  of  the  noble  exiles  in  his  company,  to  present 
themselves  at  Brussels  and  answer  the  charges  against  them.  In  the  sum- 
mons addressed  to  William,  he  was  accused  of  having  early  encouraged  a 
spirit  of  disaffection  in  the  nation  ;  of  bringing  the  Inquisition  into  contempt ; 
of  promoting  the  confederacy  of  the  nobles  and  opening  his  own  palace  of 
Breda  for  their  discussions ;  of  authorizing  the  exercise  of  the  reformed 
religion  in  Antwerp  ;  in  fine,  of  being  at  the  bottom  of  the  troubles,  civil  and 
religious,  which  had  so  long  distracted  the  land.  He  was  required,  therefore, 
under  pain  of  confiscation  of  his  property  and  perpetual  exile,  to  present  him- 
self before  the  council  at  Brussels  within  the  space  of  six  weeks,  and  answer 
the  charges  against  him.  This  summons  was  proclaimed  by  the  public  crier 
both  in  Brussels  and  in  William's  own  town  of  Breda  ;  and  a  placard  contain- 
ing it  was  affixed  to  the  door  of  the  principal  church  in  each  of  those  places.30 

Alva  followed  up  this  act  by  another,  which  excited  general  indignation 
through  the  country.  He  caused  the  count  of  Buren,  William's  eldest  son, 
then  a  lad  pursuing  his  studies  at  Louvain,  to  be  removed  from  the  university 
and  sent  to  Spain.  His  tutor  and  several  of  his  domestics  were  allowed  to 
accompany  him.  But  the  duke  advised  the  king  to  get  rid  of  these  attendants 
as  speedily  as  possible,  and  fill  their  places  with  Spaniards.31  This  unwar- 
rantable act  appears  to  have  originated  with  Granvelle,  who  recommends  it 
in  one  of  his  letters  from  Rome.32  The  object,  no  doubt,  was  to  secure  some 
guarantee  for  the  father's  obedience,  as  well  as  to  insure  the  loyalty  of  the 
heir  of  the  house  of  Nassau  and  to  retain  him  in  the  Catholic  faith.  In  the 
last  object  the  plan  succeeded.  The  youth  was  kindly  treated  by  Philip,  and 
his  long  residence  in  Spain  nourished  in  him  so  strong  an  attachment  to  both 
Church  and  crown  that  he  was  ever  after  divorced  from  the  great  cause  in 
which  his  father  and  his  countrymen  were  embarked. 

"  "  Esto  se  ha  de  proponer  en  la  forma  qne  private  memoranda  of  Philip  are  of  real  value 
yo  propuse  ti  los  de  Anvers  los  cuatrocientos  to  the  historian,  letting  him  behind  the  cur- 
mill  florlnes  para  la  ciudadela,  y  que  ellos  tain,  where  the  king's  own  ministers  could  not 
entiendan  que  aunque  se  les  propone  y  PC  les  always  penetrate. 

pide,  es  en  tal  manera  que  lo  que  se  propu-  ao  Cornejo,  Disension  de  Flandes,  fol.    63, 

siere  no  e-  ha  de  dejar  de  bacer."    Documen-  et  seq.— Hist,  des  Troubles  et  Guerres  civiles 

tos  ine"ditos,  torn.  iv.  p.  492.  di-s    Pays-Bas,    pp.    133-136.  —  Documentos 

*•  Thus,   for   example,   when   Alva  states  ineMitos,  torn.  iv.  pp.  428-439.— Archives  de 

that  the  council  had  declared  all  those  who  la  liaison  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  iii.  p.  119. 

signed   the  Con  promise    guilty  of  t  eason,  31  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii. 

Philip  notes,  in  his  own  handwriting,  on  the  p.  13. 

margin  of  the  letter,  "  The  same  should  be  "  "  Non-seulement  afin  qu'il  servit  d'utage 

done  with  all  who  aided  and  abetted  them,  as  pour  ce  que  son  pere  pourrait  faire  en  Alle- 

in  fact  the  more  guilty  party."    (Correspon-  magne,  mais  pour  qu'il  fut  eleve  catholique- 

dance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  690.)    These  menu"    Ibid.,  torn.  i.  p.  596. 


GENERAL  PROSECUTIONS.  323 

The  prince  of  Orange  published  to  the  world  his  sense  of  the  injury  done 
to  him  by  this  high-handed  proceeding  of  the  duke  of  Alva  ;  and  the  university 
of  Louvain  boldly  sent  a  committee  to  the  council  to  remonstrate  on  the 
violation  of  their  privileges.  Vargas  listened  to  them  with  a  smile  of  con- 
tempt, and,  as  he  dismissed  the  deputation,  exclaimed,  "  Non  curamus  vestros 
priirilefjios." — an  exclamation  long  remembered  for  its  bad  Latin  as  well  as 
for  its  insolence.83 

It  may  well  be  believed  that  neither  William  nor  his  friends  obeyed  the 
summons  of  the  Council  of  Blood.  The  prince,  in  a  reply  which  was  printed 
and  circulated  abroad,  denied  the  authority  of  Alva  to  try  him.  As  a  knight 
of  the  Golden  Fleece,  he  had  a  right  to  be  tried  by  his  peers  ;  as  a  citizen  of 
Brabant,  by  his  countrymen.  lie  was  not  bound  to  present  himself  before 
an  incompetent  tribunal, — one,  moreover,  which  had  his  avowed  personal 
enemy  at  its  head.34 

The  prince,  during  his  residence  in  Germany,  experienced  all  those  allevia- 
tions of  his  misfortunes  which  the  sympathy  and  support  of  powerful  friends 
could  afford.  Among  these  the  most  deserving  of  notice  was  William  the 
Wise,  a  worthy  son  of  the  famous  old  landgrave  of  Hesse  who  so  stoutly 
maintained  the  Protestant  cause  against  Charles  the  Fifth.  He  and  the  elector 
of  Saxony,  both  kinsmen  of  William's  wife,  offered  to  provide  an  establish- 
ment for  the  prince,  while  he  remained  in  Germany,  which,  if  it  was  not  on 
the  magnificent  scale  to  which  he  had  been  used  in  the  Netherlands,  was  still 
not  unsuited  to  the  dignity  of  his  rank.1* 

The  little  court  of  William  received  every  day  fresh  accessions  from  those 
who  fled  from  persecution  in  the  Netherlands.  They  brought  with  them 
appeals  to  him  from  his  countrymen  to  interpose  in  their  behalf.  The  hour 
had  not  yet  come.  But  still  he  was  not  idle.  He  was  earnestly  endeavouring 
to  interest  the  German  princes  in  the  cause,  was  strengthening  his  own 
resources,  and  steadily,  though  silently,  making  preparations  for  the  great 
struggle  with  the  oppressors  of  his  country. 

While  these  events  were  passing  in  the  Netherlands,  the  neighbouring 
monarchy  of  France  was  torn  by  those  religious  dissensions  which  at  this 
period  agitated,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  most  of  the  states  of  Christendom, 
one  half  of  the  French  nation  was  in  arms  against  the  other  half.  At  the 
time  of  our  history  the  Huguenots  had  gained  a  temporary  advantage  ;  their 
combined  forces  were  beleaguering  the  capital,  in  which  the  king  and  Catherine 
de  Medicis,  his  mother,  were  then  held  prisoners.  In  this  extremity, 
Catherine  appealed  to  Margaret  to  send  a  body  of  troops  to  her  assistance. 
The  regent  nesitated  as  to  what  course  to  take,  and  referred  the  matter  to 
Alva.  He  did  not  hesitate.  He  knew  Philip's  disposition  in  regard  to 
France,  and  had  himself,  probably,  come  to  an  understanding  on  the  subject 
with  the  eiueen-mother  in  the  famous  interview  at  Bayonne.  lie  proposed  to 
send  a  bouy  of  three  thousand  horse  to  her  relief.  At  the  same  time  he  wrote 
to  Catherine,  offering  to  leave  the  Low  Countries  and  march  himself  to  her 
support  with  his  whole  strength,  five  thousand  horse  and  fifteen  thousand  foot, 
all  his  Spanish  veterans  included,  provided  she  would  bring  matters  to  an  issue 
and  finish  at  once  with  the  enemies  of  their  religion.  The  duke  felt  how 
powerfully  such  a  result  would  react  on  the  Catholic  cause  in  the  Netherlands. 

He  besought  Catherine  to  come  to  no  tenus  with  the  rebels  ;  above  all,  to 

"  Strada,  De  Hello  Helgico,  torn.  I.  p.  372.—  Trouble*  dps    Pays-Bos,   torn.   II.   p.   243.— 

Vandrrvynckt,  Troubles  do»  1'ayn-IJa.s,  torn.  Auberi,  Illfitolre  du  Hollandc,  p.  25. 

11.  p.  281.  J1  Archives  de  la  Malwn  d'Oraugc-Nassau, 

•'    Sirada,     ubl     supra.  —  Vandci  vynckt,  torn.  111.  p.  169. 


324  CRUEL  POLICY  OF   ALVA. 

make  them  no  concessions.  "  Snch  concessions  must  of  necessity  be  either 
spiritual  or  temporal.  If  spiritual,  they  would  be  opposed  to  the  rights  of 
God  ;  if  temporal,  to  the  rights  of  the  king.  Better  to  reign  over  a  ruined 
land,  which  yet  remains  true  to  its  God  and  its  king,  than  over  one  left  un- 
harmed for  the  benefit  of  the  devil  and  his  followers,  the  heretics."  *'  In  this 
declaration,  breathing  the  full  spirit  of  religious  and  political  absolutism,  may 
be  found  the  true  key  to  the  policy  of  Alva  and  of  his  master. 

Philip  heartily  approved  of  the  views  taken  by  his  general.17  As  the  great 
champion  of  Catholicism,  he  looked  with  the  deepest  interest  on  the  religious 
struggle  going  forward  in  the  neighbouring  kingdom,  which  exercised  so  direct 
an  influence  on  the  revolutionary  movements  in  the  Netherlands.  He  strongly 
encouraged  the  queen-mother  to  yield  nothing  to  the  heretics.  "  With  his 
own  person,"  he  declared,  "  and  with  all  that  he  possessed,  he  was  ready  to 
serve  the  French  crown  in  its  contest  with  the  rebels."  *•  Philip's  zeal  in  the 
cause  was  so  well  understood  in  France  that  some  of  the  Catholic  leaders  did 
not  scruple  to  look  to  him,  rather  than  to  their  own  government,  as  the  true 
head  of  their  party.39 

Catherine  de  Medicis  did  not  discover  the  same  uncompromising  spirit,  and 
had  before  this  disgusted  her  royal  son-in-law  by  the  politic  views  which 
mingled  with  her  religion.  On  the  present  occasion  she  did  not  profit  by  the 
brilliant  offer  made  to  her  by  Alva  to  come  in  person  at  the  head  of  his  army. 
She  may  have  thought  so  formidable  a  presence  might  endanger  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  goverment.  Roman  Catholic  as  she  was  at  heart,  she  preferred, 
with  true  Italian  policy,  balancing  the  rival  factions  against  each  other,  to 
exterminating  either  of  them  altogether.  The  duke  saw  that  Catherine  was 
not  disposed  to  strike  at  the  root  of  the  evil,  and  that  the  advantages  to  be 
secured  by  success  would  be  only  temporary.  He  contented  himself,  therefore, 
with  despatching  a  smaller  force,  chiefly  of  Flemish  troops,  under  Aremberg. 
Before  the  count  reached  Paris,  the  battle  of  St.  Denis  had  been  fought. 
Montmorenci  fell?  but  the  royal  party  was  victorious.  Catherine  made  a 
treaty  with  the  discomfited  Huguenots  as  favourable  to  them  as  if  they,  not 
she,  had  won  the  fight.  Alva,  disgusted  with  the  issue,  ordered  the  speedy 
return  of  Aremberg,  whose  presence,  moreover,  was  needed  on  a  more  active 
theatre  of  operations. 

During  all  this  while  Margaret's  position  afforded  a  pitiable  contrast  to  the 
splendid  elevation  which  she  had  occupied  for  so  many  years  as  head  of  the 
government.  Not  only  had  the  actual  power  passed  from  her  hands,  but  she 
felt  that  all  her  influence  had  gone  with  it.  She  hardly  enjoyed  even  the 
right  of  remonstrance.  In  this  position,  she  had  the  advantage  of  being  more 
favourably  situated  for  criticising  the  conduct  of  the  administration  than 

**  "Or,  11  vaut  beancoup  mienx  avoir  un  France   in    the   Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth 

royaumr>  ruine,  en  le  conservunt  pour  IHeu  et  Centuries  (Eng.  trans.),  vol.  1.  p.  349. 

le  rol,  au  moyen  de  la  guerre,  que  de  I'avoir  3*  The  cardinal  of  Lorraine  went  so  far  as 

tout  entier  sans  celle-cl,  an  profit  du  de'mon  et  to  offer,  in  a    certain  contingency,  to  put 

des  heretiques,  8fs  sectateurs."     Correspon-  several   strong   frontier    places    into   Alva's 

dance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  609.  bands.     In  case  the  French   king  and  his 

37  This  appears  not  merely  from  the  king's  brothers  should  die  without  heirs,  the  king  of 

letters  to  the  duke,  but  from  a  still  more  un-  Spain  might  urge  his  own  claim  through  his 

equivocal  testimony,  the  minutes  in  his  own  wife,   as  nearest  of  blood,  to  the  crown  of 

handwriting  on  the   duke's  letters  to  him.  France.    "The  Salic  law,"  adds  the  duke, 

See,  in  particular,  his  summary  approval  of  "is  but  a  jest.    All  difficulties  will  be  easily 

the  reply  which  Alva  tells  him  he  has  made  smoothed  away  with  the  help  of  an  army." 

to  Catherine  de  Medicis  :  "  Yo  lo  mismo,  todo  Philip,  in  a  marginal  note  to  this  letter,  in- 

lo  demas  que  dice  en  este  capitulo,  que  todo  timates  his    relish    for   the    proposal.      See 

ha  sido  muy  ;t  proposito."    Ibid.,  p.  591.  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p. 

M  Ranke,    Civil  Wars   and  Monarchy  in  693. 


DEPARTURE  OF  MARGARET.  325 

when  she  was  herself  at  the  head  of  it.  She  became  more  sensible  of  the 
wrongs  of  the  people, — now  that  they  were  inflicted  by  other  hands  than  her 
own.  She  did  not  refuse  to  intercede  in  their  behalf.  She  deprecated  the 
introduction  of  a  garrison  into  the  good  city  of  Brussels.  If  this  were  neces- 
sary, she  still  besought  the  duke  not  to  allow  the  loyal  inhabitants  to  be 
burdened  with  the  maintenance  of  the  soldiers.40  But  he  turned  a  deaf  ear 
to  her  petition.  She  urged  that,  after  the  chastisement  already  inflicted  on 
the  nation,  the  only  way  to  restore  quiet  was  by  a  general  amnesty.  The 
duke  replied  that  no  amnesty  could  be  so  general  but  there  must  be  some 
exceptions,  and  it  would  take  time  to  determine  who  should  be  excepted.  She 
recommended  that  the  states  be  called  together  to  vote  the  supplies.  He 
evaded  this  also  by  saying  it  would  be  necessary  first  to  decide  on  the  amount 
of  the  subsidy  to  be  raised.41  The  regent  felt  that  in  all  matters  of  real 
moment  she  had  as  little  weight  as  any  private  individual  in  the  country. 

From  this  state  of  humiliation  she  was  at  last  relieved  by  the  return  of  her 
secretary,  Machiavelli,  who  brought  with  him  despatches  from  Ruy  Gomez, 
Philip's  favourite  minister.  He  informed  the  duchess  that  the  king,  though 
reluctantly,  had  at  last  acceded  to  her  request  and  allowed  her  to  resign  the 
government  of  the  provinces.  In  token  of  his  satisfaction  with  her  conduct, 
his  majesty  had  raised  the  pension  which  she  had  hitherto  enjoyed,  of  eight 
thousand  florins,  to  fourteen  thousand,  to  be  paid  her  yearly  during  the 
remainder  of  her  life.  This  letter  was  dated  on  the  sixth  of  October.4* 
Margaret  soon  after  received  one,  dated  four  days  later,  from  Philip  himself, 
of  much  the  same  tenor  with  that  of  his  minister.  The  king,  in  a  few  words, 
intimated  the  regret  he  felt  at  his  sister's  retirement  from  office,  and  the 
sense  he  entertained  of  the  services  she  had  rendered  him  by  her  long  and 
faithful  administration.4* 

The  increase  of  the  pension  showed  no  very  extravagant  estimate  of  these 
services  ;  and  the  parsimonious  tribute  which,  after  his  long  silence,  he  now, 
in  a  few  brief  sentences,  paid  to  her  deserts,  too  plainly  intimated  that  all 
she  had  done  had  failed  to  excite  even  a  feeling  of  gratitude  in  the  bosom  of 
her  brother.44  At  the  same  time  with  the  letter  to  Margaret  came  a  com- 
mission to  the  duke  of  Alva,  investing  him  with  the  title  of  regent  and 
governor -general,  together  with  all  the  powers  that  had  been  possessed  by  his 
predecessor.4* 

Margaret  made  only  one  request  of  Philip,  previous  to  her  departure.  This 
he  denied  her.  Her  father,  Charles  the  Fifth,  at  the  time  of  his  alxiication. 
had  called  the  states-general  together  and  taken  leave  of  them  in  a  farewell 
address,  which  was  still  cherished  as  a  legacy  by  his  subjects.  Margaret 
would  have  imitated  his  example.  The  grandeur  of  the  spectacle  pleased  her 

*°  The  municipality  of  Brussels,  alarmed  at  sinter  are  condensed  into  the  sentence  with 

the    Interpretation    which    the   duke,    after  which  he  concludes  his  letter,  or.  tU'>re  pro- 

Margaret's  departure,  might  put  on  certain  perly,  his  billet.     This  is  dated  October  13th, 

equivocal  passages  la  their  recent   history,  ISCH,  and   is  published   by  Uachard,  in  the 

obtained  a  letter  from  the  regent.  In  wbirh  Correspondance    de    Philippe    II.,    totu.    ii., 

she  warmly  commends  the  good  people  of  the  Appendix,  No.  119. 

caplUl  as  zealous  Catholics,  loyal  to  their  "  "Elle  recut,"  says  De  Thou  with  some 

k  n't,  and  on  all  occasions  prompt  to  show  humour,  "enfln  d  Espagne  une  lettre  plelne 

th  in-M-ivf.*  the  friends  of  public  order.    See  d'amitie  et  de  tendresse,  telle  qu'on  on  o>u- 

the  correspondence,  ap.   (iachaid,   Anulectes  tume  d'ecrlre  a  une  penonne  qu'on  rent'  rcie 

Belgiques,  p.  343,  et  seq.  apres  1'avolr  depouillec  de  sa  dlgnitc."     Hist. 

•'  Documentos  inedltos,  torn.  iv.  p.  481,  et  unlversclle,  torn.  v.  p.  439. 

seq.  ••  A  copy  of  the  original  Is  to  be  found  in 

*•  Correspomlance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  I.  the  Corregpondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn,  ii., 

p.  S^n.  Appendix,  No.  118.                               • 

"  The    king's    acknowledgments    to  bis 


326  CRUEL  POLICY  OP  ALVA. 

imagination,  and  she  was  influenced,  no  doubt,  by  the  honest  desire  of  mani- 
festing, in  the  hour  of  separation,  some  feelings  of  a  kindly  nature  for  the 
people  over  whom  she  had  ruled  for  so  many  years. 

But  Philip,  as  we  have  seen,  had  no  relish  for  these  meetings  of  the  state*. 
He  had  no  idea  of  consenting  to  them  on  an  emergency  no  more  pressing  than 
the  present.  Margaret  was  obliged,  therefore,  to  relinquish  the  pageant,  and 
to  content  herself  with  taking  leave  of  the  people  by  letters  addressed  to  the 
principal  cities  of  the  provinces.  In  these  she  briefly  touched  on  the  diffi- 
culties which  had  lain  in  her  path,  and  on  the  satisfaction  which  she  felt  at 
having  at  length  brought  the  country  to  a  slate  of  tranquillity  and  order. 
She  besought  them  to  remain  always  constant  in  the  faith  in  which  they  had 
been  nurtured,  as  well  as  in  their  loyalty  to  a  prince  so  benign  and  merciful  as 
the  king,  her  brother.  In  so  doing,  the  blessing  of  Heaven  would  rest  upon 
them  ;  and,  for  her  own  part,  she  would  ever  be  found  ready  to  use  her  good 
offices  in  their  behalf.46 

She  proved  her  sincerity  by  a  letter  written  to  Philip,  before  her  departure, 
in  which  she  invoked  his  mercy  in  behalf  of  his  Flemish  subjects.  u  Mercy," 
she  said,  "was  a  divine  attribute.  The  greater  the  power  possessed  by  a 
monarch,  the  nearer  he  approached  the  Deity,  and  the  more  should  he  strive 
to  imitate  the  divine  clemency  and  compassion.47  His  royal  predecessors 
had  contented  themselves  with  punishing  the  leaders  of  sedition,  while  they 
spared  the  masses  who  repented.  Any  other  course  would  confound  the  good 
with  the  bad,  and  bring  such  calamities  on  the  country  as  his  majesty  could 
not  faii  to  appreciate." 48  Well  had  it  been  for  the  fair  fame  of  Margaret  if  her 
counsels  had  always  been  guided  by  such  wise  and  magnanimous  sentiments. 

The  tidings  of  the  regent's  abdication  were  received  with  dismay  throughout 
the  provinces.  All  the  errors  of  her  government,  her  acts  of  duplicity,  the 
excessive  rigour  with  which  she  had  of  late  visited  offences, — all  were  forgotten 
in  the  regret  felt  for  her  departure.  Men  thought  only  of  the  prosperity 
which  the  country  had  enjoyed  under  her  rule,  the  confidence  which  in  earlier 
years  she  had  bestowed  on  the  friends  of  the  people,  the  generous  manner  in 
which  she  had  interposed  on  more  than  one  occasion  to  mitigate  the  hard 
policy  of  the  court  of  Madrid.  And  as  they  turned  from  these  more  brilliant 
passages  of  her  history,  their  hearts  were  filled  with  dismay  while  they  looked 
gloomily  into  the  futura 

Addresses  poured  in  upon  her  from  all  quarters.  The  different  cities  vied 
with  one  another  in  expressions  of  regret  for  her  departure,  while  they  invoked 
the  blessings  of  Heaven  on  her  remaining  days.  More  than  one  of  the 

B-ovinces  gave  substantial  evidence  of  their  gooa  will  by  liberal  donatives, 
rabant  voted  her  the  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand  florins,  and  Flanders 
thirty  thousand.49    The  neighbouring  princes,  and  among  them  Elizabeth  of 
England,  joined  with  the  people  of  the  Netherlands  in  professions  of  respect  for 
the  regent,  as  well  as  of  regret  that  she  was  to  relinquish  the  government.50 
Cheered  by  these  assurances  of  the  consideration  in  which  she  was  held  both 

«•  The  letter  has  been  Inserted  by  Gachard  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  603. 

In  the  Analectes  Belciques,  pp.  295-300.  "  Ibid.,  loc.  cit. 

•"  "  Snplicar  muy  humilmente,  y  con  toda  **  Ibid.,  torn.  ii.p.  6. 

afeccion,  que  V.  M.  use  de  clemencia  y  miseri-  M  "  Supers vitque  omnes  Elizabetha  A  ngliae 

cordia  con  ellos,  confonne  a  la  esperanza  que  Regina,  tarn  bon«  careqne  sororis,  uti  scribe- 

t  nit  is  vezes  les  ha  dado,  y  que  tenga  en  me-  bat,  vicinitate  in  posterum  caritnra ;  "  "  sive," 

moria  que  cnantomas  grandes  son  los  reyes,  y  adds  the  historian,  with  candid  skepticism, 

se  acercan  mas  a  Dios,  tanto  mas  deben  ser  "is  amor  fuit  in  Murparitam,  sive  sollicittido 

imitadores  de    esta  prande    divina    bondad,  ex   Albano  successore."     Strada,   De    Bello 

poder,   y    clemencia."      Correspondance   de  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  365. 


MARGARET'S  ADMINISTRATION  REVIEWED.  327 

at  home  and  abroad,  Margaret  quitted  Brussels  at  the  close  of  December,  1567. 
She  was  attended  to  the  borders  of  Brabant  by  Alva,  and  thence  conducted 
to  Germany  by  Count  Mansfeldt  and  an  escort  of  Flemish  nobles.51  There 
bidding  adieu  to  all  that  remained  of  her  former  state,  she  pursued  her 
journey  quietly  to  Italy.  For  some  time  she  continued  with  her  husband  in 
nis  ducal  residence  at  Parma.  But,  wherever  lay  the  fault,  it  was  Margaret's 
misfortune  to  taste  but  little  of  the  sweets  of  domestic  intercourse.  Soon 
afterwards  she  removed  to  Naples,  and  there  permanently  established  her 
abode,  on  estates  which  had  been  granted  her  by  the  crown.  Many  years 
later,  when  her  son,  Alexander  Farne.se,  was  called  to  the  government  of  the 
Netherlands,  she  quitted  her  retirement  to  take  part  with  him  in  the  direction 
of  public  affairs.  It  was  but  for  a  moment ;  and  her  present  departure  from 
the  Netherlands  may  be  regarded  as  the  close  of  her  political  existence. 

The  government  of  Margaret  continued  from  the  autumn  of  1559  to  the  end 
of  1567,  a  period  of  eight  years.  It  was  a  stormy  and  most  eventful  period ; 
for  it  was  then  that  the  minds  of  men  were  agitated  to  their  utmost  depths 
by  the  new  doctrines  which  gave  birth  to  the  revolution.  Margaret's  regency, 
indeed,  may  be  said  to  have  furnished  the  opening  scenes  of  that  great  drama. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  Low  Countries  were  accustomed  to  the  sway  of  a 
woman.  Margaret  was  the  third  of  her  line  that  had  been  intrusted  with  the 
regency.  In  qualifications  for  the  office  she  was  probably  not  inferior  to  her 
predecessors.  Her  long  residence  in  Italy  had  made  her  acquainted  with  the 

Principles  of  government  in  a  country  where  political  science  was  more  care- 
illy  studied  than  in  any  other  quarter  of  Europe.  She  was  habitually  indus- 
trious, and  her  robust  frame  was  capable  of  any  amount  of  labour.  If  she 
was  too  masculine  in  her  nature  to  allow  of  the  softer  qualities  of  her  sex,  she 
was,  on  the  other  hand,  exempt  from  the  fondness  for  pleasure  and  from 
most  of  the  frivolities  which  belonged  to  the  women  of  the  voluptuous  clime 
in  which  she  had  lived.  She  was  stanch  in  her  devotion  to  the  Catholic  faith  ; 
and  her  loyalty  was  such  that  from  the  moment  of  assuming  the  government 
she  acknowledged  no  stronger  motive  than  that  of  conformity  to  the  will  of  her 
sovereign.  She  was  fond  of  power ;  and  she  well  knew  that,  with  Philip, 
absolute  conformity  to  his  will  was  the  only  condition  on  which  it  was  to  be 
held. 

With  her  natural  good  sense,  and  the  general  moderation  of  her  views,  she 
would,  doubtless,  have  ruled  over  the  land  as  prosperously  as  her  predecessors, 
had  the  times  been  like  theirs.  But,  unhappily  for  her,  the  times  had  greatly 
changed.  Still,  Margaret,  living  on  the  theatre  of  action  and  feeling  the 
pressure  of  circumstances,  would  have  gone  far  to  conform  to  the  change.  But 
unfortunately  she  represented  a  prince,  dwelling  at  a  distance,  who  Knew  no 
change  himself,  allowed  no  concessions  to  others, — whose  conservative  policy 
rested  wholly  on  the  past 

It  was  unfortunate  for  Margaret  that  she  never  fully  possessed  the  con- 
fidence of  Philip.  Whether  from  distrust  of  her  more  accommodating  temper 
or  of  her  capacity  for  government,  he  gave  a  larger  share  of  it,  at  the  outset, 
to  Granvelle  than  to  her.  If  the  regent  could  have  been  blind  to  this,  her 
eyes  would  soon  have  been  opened  to  the  fact  by  the  rivals  who  hated  the 
minister.  It  was  not  long  before  she  hated  him  too.  But  the  removal  of 
Granvelle  did  not  establish  her  in  her  brother's  confidence.  It  rather  in- 

"  Historian*  vary  considerably  an  to  the  letter  from  her  to  Philip  when  tihe  hail  nearly 

date  of  Margaret'*  departure.     She  croft«tl  the  reached  the  borders,  dated  at  Luxembourg,  on 

frontier  of  the  Netherlands  proluibly  by  the  the  twelfth  of  that  month, 
middle  of  January,  15«8.    At  least,  we  find  a 


328  CRUEL  POLICY  OF  ALVA. 

creased  his  distrust,  by  the  necessity  it  imposed  on  her  of  throwing  herself 
into  the  arms  of  the  opposite  party,  the  friends  of  the  people.  From  this 
moment  Philip's  confidence  was  more  heartily  bestowed  on  the  duke  of  Alva, 
even  on  the  banished  Granvelle,  than  on  the  regent  Her  letters  remained 
too  often  unanswered.  The  answers,  when  they  did  come,  furnished  only  dark 
and  mysterious  hints  of  the  course  to  be  pursued.  She  was  left  to  work  out 
the  problem  of  government  by  herself,  sure  for  every  blunder  to  be  called  to  a 
strict  account  Rumours  of  the  speedy  coming  of  the  king  suggested  the  idea 
that  her  own  dominion  was  transitory,  soon  to  be  superseded  by  that  of  a 
higher  power. 

Under  these  disadvantages  she  might  well  have  lost  all  reliance  on  herself. 
She  was  not  even  supplied  with  the  means  of  carrying  out  her  own  schemes. 
She  was  left  without  money,  without  arms,  without  the  power  to  pardon, — 
more  important,  with  a  brave  and  generous  race,  than  the  power  to  punish. 
Thus,  destitute  of  resources,  without  the  confidence  of  her  employer,  with  the 
people  stoutly  demanding  concessions  on  the  one  side,  with  the  sovereign 
sternly  refusing  them  on  the  other,  it  is  little  to  say  that  Margaret  was  in  a 
false  position.  Her  position  was  deplorable.  She  ought  not  to  have  remained 
in  it  a  day  after  she  found  that  she  could  not  hold  it  with  honour.  But  Mar- 
garet was  too  covetous  of  power  readily  to  resign  it  Her  misunderstanding 
with  her  husband  made  her,  moreover,  somewhat  dependent  on  her  brother. 

At  last  came  the  Compromise  and  the  league.  Margaret's  eyes  seemed  now 
to  be  first  opened  to  the  direction  of  the  course  she  was  taking.  This  was 
followed  by  the  explosion  of  the  iconoclasts.  The  shock  fully  awoke  her  from 
her  delusion.  She  was  as  zealous  for  the  Catholic  Church  as  Philip  himself ; 
and  she  saw  with  horror  that  it  was  trembling  to  its  foundations.  A  complete 
change  seemed  to  take  place  in  her  convictions, — in  her  very  nature.  She 
repudiated  all  those  with  whom  she  had  hitherto  acted.  She  embraced,  as 
heartily  as  he  could  desire,  the  stern  policy  of  Philip.  She  proscribed,  she 
persecuted,  she  punished, — and  that  with  an  excess  of  rigour  that  does  little 
honour  to  her  memory.  It  was  top  late.  The  distrust  of  Philip  was  not  to 
be  removed  by  this  tardy  compliance  with  his  wishes.  A  successor  was 
already  appointed ;  and  at  the  very  moment  when  she  flattered  herself  that 
the  tranquillity  of  the  country  ana  her  own  authority  were  established  on  a 
permanent  basis,  the  duke  of  Alva  was  on  his  march  across  the  mountains. 

Yet  it  was  fortunate  for  Margaret's  reputation  that  she  was  succeeded  in 
the  government  by  a  man  like  Alva.  The  darkest  spots  on  her  administration 
became  light  when  brought  into  comparison  with  his  reign  of  terror.  From 
this  point  of  view  it  has  been  criticised  by  the  writers  of  her  own  time  and 
those  of  later  ages."  And  in  this  way,  probably,  as  the  student  who  ponders 
the  events  of  her  history  may  infer,  a  more  favourable  judgment  has  been 
passed  upon  her  actions  than  would  be  warranted  by  a  calm  and  deliberate 
scrutiny. 

"  See,  among    others,   Strada,    De    Bello  "  Dejando  gran  reputacion  de  su  virtud  y  nn 

Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.   128 ;  Guerres  civlles  du  sentlmiento  de  su  partida  en  los  corazoncs  de 

Pays-Bag,  p.  128;  De  Thou,  Hist,  gen.,  torn.  los  vasallos  de  por  aci  el  qual  credo  mucho 

v.  p.  439 ;  and  Renom  de  Francia,  Alborotos  despues  ansi  continue  quando  se  describio  el 

de  Flandes,  MS.,  who  In  these  words  con-  gusto  de  los  humores  y  andamieutos  de  su 

eludes  his  notice  of  Margaret's  departure:  Buccesor." 


NUMEROUS  ARRESTS.  329 

CHAPTER  III. 

REIGN  OF   TERROR. 

Numerous  Arrests — Trials  and  Executions — Confiscations — Orange  assembles  an  Army- 
Battle  of  Heyligerlee— Alva's  Proceedings. 

1668. 

Is  the  beginning  of  1568,  Philip,  if  we  may  trust  the  historians,  resorted  to  a 
very  extraordinary  measure  for  justifying  to  the  world  his  rigorous  proceed- 
ings against  the  Netherlands.  He  submitted  the  case  to  the  Inquisition  at 
Madrid  ;  and  that  ghostly  tribunal,  after  duly  considering  the  evidence 
derived  from  the  information  of  the  king  and  of  the  inquisitors  in  the  Nether- 
lands, came  to  the  following  decision.  All  who  had  been  guilty  of  heresy, 
aj>ostasy,  or  sedition,  and  all,  moreover,  who,  though  professing  themselves 
good  Catholics,  had  offered  no  resistance  to  these,  were,  with  the  exception  of 
a  few  specified  individuals,  thereby  convicted  of  treason  in  the  highest  degree.1 

This  sweeping  judgment  was  followed  by  a  royal  edict,  dated  on  the  same 
day,  the  sixteenth  of  February,  in  which,  after  reciting  the  -language  of  the 
Inquisition,  the  whole  nation,  with  the  exception  above  stated,  was  sentenced, 
without  distinction  of  sex  or  age,  to  the  penalties  of  treason,-ydeath  and  con- 
fiscation of  property ;  and  this,  the  decree  went  on  to  say,  "  without  any  hope 
of  grace  whatever,  that  it  might  serve  for  an  example  and  a  warning  to  all 
future  time  ! "  * 

It  is  difficult  to  give  credit  to  a  story  so  monstrous,  repeated  though  it  has 
been  by  successive  writers  without  the  least  distrust  of  its  correctness.  Not 
that  anything  can  be  too  monstrous  to  be  believed  of  the  Inquisition.  But  it 
is  not  easy  to  believe  that  a  sagacious  prince  like  Philip  the  Second,  however 
willing  he  might  be  to  shelter  himself  under  the  mantle  of  the  Holy  Office, 
couldliave  lent  himself  to  an  act  as  impolitic  as  it  was  absurd  ;  one  that,  con- 
founding the  innocent  with  the  guilty,  would  drive  both  to  desperation, — 
would  incite  the  former,  from  a  sense  of  injury,  to  take  up  rebellion,  by  which 
there  was  nothing  more  to  lose,  and  the  latter  to  persist  in  it,  since  there  was 
nothing  more  to  hope.* 

The  messenger  who  brought  to  Margaret  the  royal  permission  to  resign  the 
regency  delivered  to  Alva  his  commission  as  captain -general  of  the  Nether- 
lands. This  would  place  the  duke,  as  Philip  wrote  him,  beyond  the  control  of 
the  council  of  finance  in  the  important  matter  of  the  confiscations.4  It  raised 
him,  indeed,  not  only  above  that  council,  but  above  every  other  council  in  the 
country.  It  gave  him  an  authority  not  less  tlian  tliat  of  the  sovereign  him- 

1  De  Thou,  Hint.  g*n..  torn.  v.  p.  437.— >  who  credited  the  story,  but  not  so  strange  as 

Metemt,   Hist.  J«-s   ('ays-nan,  fol.  M.— The  that  a   proceeding  so  extraordinary  should 

latter  historian  cites  the  words  of  the  original  have  escaped  the  vlgllanre  of  Llorerite.  the 

lustrument.  secretary  of  the  Holy  Office,  who  had  all  its 

'"Voulans  et  ordonnin*  qu'alnsi  en  soit  papers  at  his  command.     I  have  met  with  no 

faict,  afin  que  ceste  serieuse  sentence  serve  allusion  whatever  to  it  In  bis  pages, 

d'exrmple.  et  donne  cralnte  pour  1'advenir,  *  ••  An  moyen  de  la  patente  d«  gouvorntur 

nans  uucune  esperance  de  grace."    Mcleren,  general  que  le  due  aura  rec.  ue,  II  pourra  faire 

Hlat.  des  Pays-Baa,  fol.  54.  ceaser  lea  entraven  que  mettalt  IP  cense!  I  il.-s 

'  Among   contemporary   writers    whom  I  finances  a  ce  qn'll  disposal  des  denlors  dea 

have  consulted,  I  find  no  authorities  for  this  confiscations."     Correspondence  de  Philippe 

remarkable    statement  except   Meteren  and  II.,  torn.  t.  p.  609, 
Iv  Tli  >u.    This  might  seem  »trang«-  to  one 


330  REIGN  OF  TERROR. 

self.  And  Alva  prepared  to  stretch  this  to  an  extent  greater  than  any  sove- 
reign of  the  Netherlands  had  ever  ventured  on.  The  time  had  now  come  to 
put  his  terrible  machinery  into  operation.  The  regent  was  gone,  who,  if  she 
could  not  curb,  might  at  least  criticise  his  actions.  The  prisons  were  full ; 
the  processes  were  completed.  Nothing  remained  but  to  pass  sentence  and 
to  execute. 

On  the  fourth  of  January,  1568,  we  find  eighty-four  persons  sentenced  to 
death  at  Valenciennes  on  the  charge  of  having  taken  part  in  the  late  move- 
ments,— religious  or  political.4  On  the  twentieth  of  February,  ninety-five 
persons  were  arraigned  before  the  Council  of  Blood,  and  thirty-seven  capitally 
convicted."  On  the  twentieth  of  March  thirty-five  more  were  condemned!' 
The  governor's  emissaries  were  out  in  every  direction.  "  I  heard  that  preach- 
ing was  going  on  at  Antwerp,"  he  writes  to  Philip,  "  and  I  sent  my  own  pro- 
vost there,  for  I  cannot  trust  the  authorities.  He  arrested  a  good  number  of 
heretics.  They  will  never  attend  another  such  meeting.  The  magistrates 
complain  that  the  interference  of  the  provost  was  a  violation  of  their  privileges. 
The  magistrates  may  as  well  take  it  patiently."  *  The  pleasant  manner  in 
which  the  duke  talks  over  the  fate  of  his  victims  with  his  master  may  remind 
one  of  the  similar  dialogues  between  Petit  Andre  and  Louis  the  Eleventh, 
in  "  Quentin  Durward." 

The  proceedings  in  Ghent  may  show  the  course  pursued  in  the  other  cities. 
Commissioners  were  sent  to  that  capital,  to  ferret  out  the  suspected.  No  less 
than  a  hundred  and  forty-seven  were  summoned  before  the  council  at  Brussels. 
Their  names  were  cried  about  the  streets  and  posted  up  in  placards  on  the 
public  buildings.  Among  them  were  many  noble  and  wealthy  individuals. 
The  officers  were  particularly  instructed  to  ascertain  the  wealth  of  the  parties. 
Most  of  the  accused  contrived  to  make  their  escape.  They  preferred  flight  to 
the  chance  of  an  acquittal  by  the  bloody  tribunal, — though  flight  involved 
certain  banishment  and  confiscation  of  property.  Eighteen  only  answered 
the  summons  by  repairing  to  Brussels.  They  were  all  arrested  on  the  same 
day,  at  their  lodgings,  and,  without  exception,  were  sentenced  to  death  ! 
Five  or  six  of  the  principal  were  beheaded.  The  rest  perished  on  the  gallows.' 

Impatient  of  what  seemed  to  him  a  too  tardy  method  of  following  up  his 
game,  the  duke  determined  on  a  bolder  movement,  and  laid  his  plans  for 
driving  a  goodly  number  of  victims  into  the  toils  at  once.  He  fixed  on  Ash 
Wednesday  for  the  time, — the  beginning  of  Lent,  when  men,  after  the  Car- 
nival was  past,  would  be  gathered  soberly  in  their  own  dwellings.10  The 
officers  of  justice  entered  their  premises  at  dead  of  night,  and  no  less  than 
five  hundred  citizens  were  dragged  from  their  beds  and  hurried  off  to  prison.11 

*  Bulletins  de  1'Academie  Royale  de  Bel-        charged  with  these  arrerts,  in  the  Corrpspon- 
giqu»,  torn.  xvi.  par.  ii.  p.  62.  dance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn,  ii.,  Appendix,  p. 

Ibid.,  p.  62.  600. 

'  Ibid.,  p.  63.  "  "Et,  affln  que  ledict  due  d'Alve  face 

*  "  Le  magistral  s'est  plaint  de  1'infraction  apparoir  de  plus  son  affection  sanguinuirc  et 
de  ses  privileges,    a  cause  de  1'envoi  dudit  tyrannicque,  il  a,  passe  peu  de  temps,  faict 
prevot;    raais    il    faudra   bien  qu'il    prenne  apprgbender,  tout  sur  une  nuict  [le  3  mare, 
patience."    Correspondence  de  Philippe  II.,  1668],  en  toutes  les  villes  des  pays  d'embas, 
torn.  ii.  p.  13.  ung   grand  nombre  de  ceulx    qu'il    a   tenu 

'  Vandervynckt,    Troubles  des    Pays-Bas,  suspect  en  leur  foy,  et  les  faict  mectre  bora 

torn.  ii.  pp.  243-247. — The  author  tells  us  he  leurs   maisons  et   lictz  en    prison,   pour  en 

collected  these  particulars  from  the  memoirs  apre*,  a  sa    commodite,  faire  son  plaisir  et 

and    diaries    of   eye-witnesses, — confirmed,  volume  avecque  lesdicts  prisonniers."    Cor- 

moreover,  by  the  acts  and  public  registers  of  respondance  de  Guillaume  le  Taciturne,  torn, 

the  time.     The  authenticity  of  the  statement,  iii.   p.  9. — The  extract   is  from  a  memorial 

he  adds,  is  incontestable.  addressed  by  William  to  the  emperor,  vindi- 

10  See  the  circular  of  Alva  to  the  officers  eating  bis  own  course,  an J  exposing,  with  the 


TRIALS  AND  EXECUTIONS.  331 

They  all  received  sentence  of  death  ! !*  "I  have  reiterated  the  sentence  again 
and  again,"  he  writes  to  Philip,  "  for  they  torment  me  with  inquiries  whether 
in  this  or  that  case  it  might  not  be  commuted  for  banishment.  They  weary 
me  of  my  life  with  their  importunities."  '*  He  was  not  too  weary,  however, 
to  go  on  with  the  bloody  work  ;  for  in  the  same  letter  we  find  him  reckoning 
that  three  hundred  heads  more  must  fall  before  it  will  be  time  to  talk  of  a 
general  pardon.14 

It  was  common,  says  an  old  chronicler,  to  see  thirty  or  forty  persons  arrested 
at  once.  The  wealthier  burghers  might  be  seen,  with  their  arms  pinioned 
behind  them,  dragged  at  the  horse's  tail  to  the  place  of  execution.15  The 
poorer  sort  were  not  even  summoned  to  take  their  trial  in  Brussels.  Then- 
cases  were  despatched  at  once,  and  they  were  hung  up,  without  further  delay, 
in  the  city  or  in  the  suburbs." 

Brandt,  in  his  History  of  the  Reformation,  has  collected  many  particulars 
respecting  the  persecution,  especially  in  his  own  province  of  Holland,  during 
that  "  reign  of  terror."  Men  of  lower  consideration,  when  dragged  to  prison, 
were  often  cruelly  tortured  on  the  rack,  to  extort  confessions  implicating 
themselves  or  then:  friends.  The  modes  of  death  adjudged  by  the  bloody 
tribunal  were  various.  Some  were  beheaded  with  the  sword,— a  distinction 
reserved,  as  it  would  seem,  for  persons  of  condition.  Some  were  sentenced  to 
the  gibbet,  and  others  to  the  stake.17  This  last  punishment,  the  most  dread- 
ful of  all,  was  confined  to  the  greater  offenders  against  religion.  But  it  seems 
to  have  been  left  much  to  the  caprice  of  the  judges,  sometimes  even  of  the 
brutal  soldiery  who  superintended  the  executions.  At  least  we  find  the 
Spanish  soldiers,  on  one  occasion,  in  their  righteous  indignation,  throwing 
into  the  flames  an  unhappy  Protestant  preacher  whom  the  court  had  sen- 
tenced to  the  gallows.18 

The  soldiers  of  Alva  were  many  of  them  veterans,  who  had  borne  arms 
against  the  Protestants  under  Charles  the  Fifth, — comrades  of  the  men  who 
at  that  very  time  were  hunting  down  the  natives  of  the  New  World  and 
slaughtering  them  by  thousands  in  the  name  of  religion.  With  them  the 
sum  and  substance  of  religion  were  comprised  in  a  blind  faith  in  the  Romish 
Church,  and  in  uncompromising  hostility  to  the  heretic.  The  life  of  the 
heretic  was  the  most  acceptable  sacrifice  that  could  be  offered  to  Jehovah. 
\\ith  hearts  thus  seared  by  fanaticism  and  made  callous  by  lone  familiarity 
with  human  suffering,  they  were  the  very  ministers  to  do  the  bidding  of  sucn 
a  master  as  the  duke  of  Alva. 

Indignant  eloquence  of  a  patriot,  the  wrongs  me  dojan  vlvir,  y  no  bosta  con  olios."     Ibid., 

and  calamities  of  bin  country.    Thin  docu-  ubi  supra. 

ment,  printed  by  Gacbard.  is  a  version  from  "  "  En  este  casttgo  que  agora  se  bace  y  en 

the  German  original  by  the  band  of  a  con-  el  qne  vendra"  decpues  de  Pasc'ia  tengo  que 

temporary.    A  modern  translation — so  am-  pasuru  de  ochocienus    cabezas."      Ibid.,   p. 

bilious  in  it»  style  that  one  may  distrust  its  48». 

t"l  lit  y    i<  also  to  be  found  In  tbe  Archive*  '    "  Lea  Bourgeois  qul  estnyft  riches  da 

de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Naasau,  Supplement,  quarante,  soixante,  et  cent  mille  florins,  il  lea 

p.  91,  et  *i\.  fay  soil  attacher  a  la  queue  d'un  cbevnl,  ei 

11  ••  Se  prendleron  cerca  de  qulnlentos.  .  .  .  ain.-i  les  fayxuit  trainer,  ay  ant  les  mains  liees 

He  mandado  justiclar  todoa.     says  Alva  to  sur  le  dos,  Jugquex  an  lieu  ou  on  les  debvoit 

tbe  king,  in  a  letter  written  in  cipher,  April  pendre."     Mvtenn,  Hist,  des  Pays-lias,  fol. 

13th.  1568.    (Itocunvnto*  inedito?,  torn.  iv.  p.  65. 

488.)   Not  one  escaped !    It  is  told  with  an  air  "  Ibid.,  ubi  supra, 

of  nonchalance  truly  appalling.  "  "  Ille  [Vargas]  promlscui  laqueo,  igne, 

"  MOue  cada  dla  me  quiebran  la  cabez*  homines  enecare."    Ueidanus,  Annules,  p.  «. 

con  dudas  de  que  si  el  que  dellnquio'  dcst*  "  Brandt,   Reformation  in  the  Low  Coun- 

manera  meresce  la  muerte,  6  Kiel  que  de-  tries,  vol.  1.  p.  274. 
linquio  desta  otra  men-see  Uestlerru,  que  no 


332  REIGN  OF  TERROR 

The  cruelty  of  the  persecutors  was  met  by  an  indomitable  courage  on  the 
part  of  their  victims.  Most  of  the  offences  were,  in  some  way  or  other,  con- 
nected with  religion.  The  accused  were  preachers,  or  had  aided  and  comforted 
the  preachers,  or  had  attended  their  services,  or  joined  the  consistories,  or 
afforded  evidence,  in  some  form,  that  they  had  espoused  the  damnable 
doctrines  of  heresy.  It  is  precisely  in  such  a  case,  where  men  are  called  to 
suffer  for  conscience'  sake,  that  they  are  prepared  to  endure  all, — to  die  in 
defence  of  their  opinions.  The  storm  of  persecution  fell  on  persons  of  every 
condition  ;  men  and  women,  the  young,  the  old,  the  infirm  and  helpless.  But 
the  weaker  the  party,  the  more  did  his  spirit  rise  to  endure  his  sufferings. 
Many  affecting  instances  are  recorded  of  persons  who,  with  no  support  but 
their  trust  in  Heaven,  displayed  the  most  heroic  fortitude  in  the  presence  of 
their  judges,  and,  by  the  boldness  with  which  they  asserted  their  opinions, 
seemed  even  to  court  the  crown  of  martyrdom.  On  the  scaffold  and  at  the 
stake  this  intrepid  spirit  did  not  desert  them  ;  and  the  testimony  they  bore  to 
the  truth  of  the  cause  for  which  they  suffered  had  such  an  effect  on  the  by- 
standers that  it  was  found  necessary  to  silence  them.  A  cruel  device  for  more 
effectually  accomplishing  this  was  employed  by  the  officials.  The  tip  of  the 
tongue  was  seared  with  a  red-hot  iron,  and  tne  swollen  member  then  com- 
pressed between  two  plates  of  metal  screwed  fast  together.  Thus  gagged,  the 
groans  of  the  wretched  sufferer  found  vent  in  strange  sounds  that  excited  the 
brutal  merriment  of  his  tormentors." 

But  it  is  needless  to  dwell  longer  on  the  miseries  endured  by  the  people  of 
the  Netherlands  in  this  season  of  trial.  Yet,  if  the  cruelties  perpetrated  in 
the  name  of  religion  are  most  degrading  to  humanity,  they  must  be  allowed 
to  have  called  forth  the  most  sublime  spectacle  which  humanity  can  present, 
— that  of  the  martyr  offering  up  his  life  on  the  altar  of  principle. 

It  is  difficult — in  fact,  from  the  data  in  my  possession,  not  possible — to 
calculate  the  number  of  those  who  fell  by  the  hand  of  the  executioner  in  this 
dismal  persecution.*9  The  number,  doubtless,  was  not  great  as  compared  with 
the  population  of  the  country, — not  so  great  as  we  may  find  left,  almost  every 
year  of  our  lives,  on  a  single  battle-field.  When  the  forms  of  legal  proceedings 
are  maintained,  the  movements  of  justice — if  the  name  can  be  so  profaned 
— are  comparatively  tardy.  It  is  only,  as  in  the  French  Revolution,  when 
thousands  are  swept  down  by  the  cannon,  or  whole  cargoes  of  wretched  victims 
are  plunged  at  once  into  the  waters,  that  death  moves  on  with  the  gigantic 
striae  of  pestilence  and  war. 

But  the  amount  of  suffering  from  such  a  persecution  is  not  to  be  estimated 

'•  "  Hark    how  they  sing !  "  exclaimed  a  probably  fled  the  country— were  condemned 

friar  in  the  crowd ;  "  should  they  not  be  made  for  contumacy.      (Epist.   ad  Hopperum,  p. 

to  dance  too?"    Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  415.)    Grotius.  alluding  to  this  period,  apt-alts 

Low  Countries,  vol.  i.  p.  275.  even  more  vaguely  of  the  multitude  of  the 

20  It  will  be  understood  that  I  am  speaking  victims,  as  intiitmerable .-  "  Stipata?  reis  cnsto- 

of  the  period  embraced  in  this  portion  of  the  dise,  innumei  i  mortales  necati :   ubique  una 

history,  terminating  at  the  beginning  of  June,  species  ut  captas  civitatis."    (Annales,  p.  29.) 

1&68,  when  the  Council  of  Blood  had  been  in  So    also    Hooft,    cited    by    Brandt :     "  The 

active   operation    about    four    months, — the  Gallows,  the  Wheels,  Stakes,  and  Trees  in 

period  when  the  sword  of  legal  persecution  the  highways,  were  loaden  with  carcasses  or 

fell  heaviest.     Alva,  in  the  letter  above  cited  limbs  of  such  as  had  been  hanged,  beheaded, 

to  Philip,  admits  eight  hundred— including  or  roasted ;  so  that  the  air,  which  God  had 

three  hundred  to  be  examined  after  Easter —  made  for  respiration  of  the  living,  was  now 

as  the  number  of   victims.      (Docnmentos  become  the  common  grave  or  habitation  of 

ineditos,  torn.  iv.  p.  489.)    Viglius,  in  a  letter  the  dead."     (Reformation  in  the  Low  Coun- 

of  the  twenty-ninth  of  March,  says  fifteen  tries,   vol.  i.  p.  261.)     language   like  this, 

hundred  had  been  already  cited  before  the  however  expressive,  does  little  for  statistics. 
tribunal,  the  greater  part  of  whom — they  had 


CONFISCATIONS.  333 

merely  by  the  number  of  those  who  have  actually  suffered  death,  when  the 
fear  of  death  hung  like  a  naked  sword  over  every  man's  head.  Alva  had 
expressed  to  Philip  the  wish  that  every  man,  as  he  lay  down  at  night  or  as  he 
rose  in  the  morning,  "  might  feel  that  his  house,  at  any  hour,  might  fall  and 
crush  him  ! "  "  This  humane  wish  was  accomplished.  Those  who  escaped 
death  had  to  fear  a  fate  scarcely  less  dreadful,  in  banishment  and  confiscation 
of  property.  The  persecution  very  soon  took  this  direction  ;  and  persecution 
when  prompted  by  avarice  is  even  more  odious  than  when  it  springs  from 
fanaticism,  which,  however  degrading  in  itself,  is  but  the  perversion  of  the 
religious  principle. 

Sentence  of  perpetual  exile  and  confiscation  was  pronounced  at  once  against 
all  who  fled  the  country."  Even  the  dead  were  not  spared ;  as  is  shown  by 
the  process  instituted  against  the  marquis  of  Bergen  for  the  confiscation  of  his 
estates  on  the  charge  of  treason.  That  nobleman  had  gone  with  Montigny,  as 
the  reader  may  remember,  on  his  mission  to  Madrid,  where  he  had  recently 
died,— more  fortunate  than  his  companion,  who  survived  for  a  darker  destiny. 
The  duke's  emissaries  were  everywhere  active  in  making  up  their  inventories 
of  the  property  of  the  suspected  parties.  "  I  am  going  to  arrest  some  of  the 
richest  and  the  worst  offenders,"  writes  Alva  to  his  master,  "  and  bring  them 
to  a  pecuniary  composition." 2t  He  shall  next  proceed,  he  says,  against  the 
delinquent  cities.  In  this  way  a  round  sum  will  flow  into  his  majesty's  coffers.24 
The  victims  of  this  class  were  so  numerous  that  We  find  a  single  sentence  of 
the  council  sometimes  comprehending  eighty  or  a  hundred  individuals.  One 
before  me.  in  fewer  words  than  are  taken  up  by  the  names  of  the  parties, 
dooms  no  less  than  a  hundred  and  thirty-five  inhabitants  of  Amsterdam  to 
confiscation  and  exile.** 

One  may  imagine  the  distress  brought  on  this  once  flourishing  country  by 
this  wholesale  proscription  ;  for,  besides  the  parties  directly  interested,  there 
was  a  host  of  others  incidentally  affected, — hospitals  and  charitable  establish- 
ments, widows  and  helpless  orphans,  now  reduced  to  want  by  the  failure  of 
the  sources  which  supplied  them  with  their  ordinary  subsistence.1*  Slow  and 
sparing  must  have  been  the  justice  doled  put  to  such  impotent  creditors,  when 
they  preferred  their  claims  to  a  tribunal  like  the  Council  of  Blood  !  The  effect 
was  soon  visible  in  the  decay  of  trade  and  the  rapid  depopulation  of  the  towns. 
Notwithstanding  the  dreadful  penalties  denounced  against  fugitives,  great 
numbers,  especially  from  the  border  states,  contrived  to  make  their  escape. 
The  neighbouring  districts  of  Germany  opened  their  arms  to  the  wanderers  ; 
and  many  a  wretched  exile  from  the  northern  provinces,  flying  across  the 
frozen  waters  of  the  Zuyder  Zee,  found  refuge  within  the  hospitable  walls  of 
Embden.*'  Even  in  an  inland  city  like  Ghent,  half  the  houses,  if  we  may 

"  Correspondence   de   Philippe  II.,  torn.  historian. 

11.  p.  4.  "  "  Acabando  este  castigo comenzarett pren- 

n  Sentences    passed   by    the    Council   of  der  algunos  particulars  de  los  mas  culpado* 

Blood  against  a  great  number  of  individuals  y  mas  ricos  para  raoverlos  &  que  vengan  A 

— two  thousand  or  more — have  been  collected  composition.        Documentor  ineditos,  torn. 

In  a  littlr  volume  (Sententien  en  Indagingen  iv.  p.  489. 

van  Alba)  published  at  Amsterdam  in  1735.  "  "  Destos  tales  se  saque  todo  el  golpe  de 

The  parties  condemned  were  for  the  most  dlnero  que  sea  possible."    Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

»rt  natives  of  Holland,  Zealand,  and  Utrecht.  "  Sententien  van  Alva,  bl.  122-134. 

•  would  seem,  with  very  few  exception*.  •*  "  Combien  d'Honpitaux,  Vefues,  et  Or- 


part  n. 
They 


to  have  been  absentees,  and,  being  pronounced  pbolins,  estoyent    par  ce    mo>  en   privta  de 

guilty  of  contumacy,  were  nentemxnl  to  banish-  Icnr  rentes,  it  moyGs  de  vivre  !  "    Meterrn, 

ui'-nt  and  the  confiscation  of  their  property.  Hist,  de*  I'ays-Bas,  fol  55. 

The  volume  furnishes  a  more  emphatic  com-  - ;  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Couu- 

mentary  on  the  proceedings  of  Alva  than  any-  tries,  vol.  i.  p.  20&. 

thing  which  could  come  Irom  the  pen  of  the 


334  REIGN  OF  TERROR. 

credit  the  historian,  were  abandoned.28  Not  a  family  was  there,  he  says,  but 
some  of  its  members  had  tasted  the  bitterness  of  exile  or  of  death.29  "  The 
fury  of  persecution,"  writes  the  prince  of  Orange,  "  spreads  such  horror 
throughout  the  nation  that  thousands,  and  among  them  some  of  the  principal 
Papists,  have  fled  a  country  where  tyranny  seems  to  be  directed  against  all, 
without  distinction  of  faith."  *° 

Yet  in  a  financial  point  of  view  the  results  did  not  keep  pace  with  Alva's 
wishes.  Notwithstanding  the  large  amount  of  the  confiscations,  the  proceeds, 
as  he  complains  to  Philip,  were  absorbed  in  so  many  ways,  especially  by  the 
peculation  of  his  agents,  that  he  doubted  whether  the  expense  would  not  come 
to  more  than  the  profits  !  *'  He  was  equally  dissatisfied  with  the  conduct  of 
other  functionaries.  The  commissioners  sent  into  the  provinces,  instead  of 
using  their  efforts  to  detect  the  guilty,  seemed  disposed,  he  said,  rather  to 
conceal  them.  Even  the  members  of  the  Council  of  Troubles  manifested  so 
much  apathy  in  their  vocation  as  to  give  him  more  annoyance  than  the  delin- 
quents themselves  !  **  The  only  person  who  showed  any  zeal  in  the  service 
was  Vargas.  He  was  worth  all  the  others  of  the  council  put  together."  The 
duke  might  have  excepted  from  this  sweeping  condemnation  Hessels,  the 
lawyer  of  Ghent,  if  the  rumours  concerning  him  were  true.  This  worthy 
councillor,  it  is  said,  would  sometimes  fall  asleep  in  his  chair,  worn  out  by  the 
fatigue  of  trying  causes  and  signing  death-warrants.  In  this  state,  when 
suddenly  called  on  to  pronounce  the  doom  of  the  prisoner,  he  would  cry  out, 
half  awake,  and  rabbin?  his  eves,  "  Ad patibulum  !  Ad  patibulum  /" — "  To 
the  gallows  !  To  the  gallows  !*  " 

But  Vargas  was  after  the  duke's  own  heart.  Alva  was  never  weary  of 
commending  his  follower  to  the  king.  He  besought  Philip  to  interpose  in  his 
behalf,  and  cause  three  suits  which  had  been  brought  against  that  functionary 
to  be  suspended  during  his  absence  from  Spain.  The  king  accordingly 
addressed  the  judge  on  the  subject.  But  the  magistrate  (his  name  should 
have  been  preserved)  had  the  independence  to  reply  that  "justice  must  take 
its  course,  and  could  not  be  suspended  from  favour  to  any  one."  "  Nor  would 
I  have  it  so,"  answered  Philip  (it  is  the  king  who  tells  it) :  "  I  would  do  only 
what  is  possible  to  save  the  interests  of  Vargas  from  suffering  by  his  absence. 
In  conclusion,  he  tells  the  duke  that  Vargas  should  give  no  heed  to  what  is 
said  of  the  suits,  since  he  must  be  assured,  after  the  letter  he  has  received 
under  the  royal  hand,  that  his  sovereign  fully  approves  his  conduct."  But  if 
Vargas,  by  his  unscrupulous  devotion  to  the  cause,  won  the  confidence  of  his 
employers,  he  incurred,  on  the  other  hand,  the  unmitigated  hatred  of  the 
people, — a  hatred  deeper,  it  would  almost  seem,  than  even  that  which  attached 

™  Vandervyrickt,  Troubles  des  Pays-Bas,  cosas  no  solamente  no  me  ayuda.  pero  esttfr- 

tom.  ii.  p.  247.  bame  tanto  que  tengo  mas que  hacer  con  ellos 

'•"  Ibid.,  p.  245.  que  con  IDS  delincuentes."    Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

*"  "  Par  laquelle  auparavant  jamais  ouye  "  Vargas  passed  as  summary  a  judgment 

tyrannic  et  persecution,  ledict  due  d'Albe  a  on  the  people  of  the   Netherlands  as  that 

cause  partout  t  He  peur,  que  aulcuns  rallies  Imputed  to  the  Inquisition,  condensing  it  into 

personnes,  ftmesmement  ceulx  estans  princl-  a  memorable  sentence,  much  admired  for  its 

1  aulx  papistes,  se  sont  retires  en  dedens  pen  Latinity:  "  H&retici  fraxerunt  tempta,  boni 

de  temps  hors  les  Pays-Bas,  en  consideration  n;hil  faxerunt    contra,   ergo  debent   omnes 

que  ceste  tyrannic  s'exerce  centre  toufi,  sans  patibulare."    Reidanus,  Annales,  p.  5. 

aulcnne  distinction  de  la  religion."     Corre-  "  "  Quand  on  I'eveilloit  pour  dire  son  avis, 

spondance  de  Guillaume  le  Taciturne,  torn.  iti.  il  disoit  tout  endormi,  en  se  frottant  les  yeux, 

p.  14.  ad  patibulum,  ad  patibulum,  c'est-a-dire,  an 

"  "Quetemonovengafi  Ber  mayor  la  *spesa  gibet,  au  gibet."    Auberi,  Mem.  pour  servir 

de  los  ministros  que  el  util  que  dello  se  sa-  a  1'IIist.  de  Hollande,  p.  22. 

cari."    Documentos  Ineditos,  torn.  iv.  p.  495.  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii. 

"  "  El  tribunal  todo  que  bice  para  estas  p.  12. 


RESULTS.  335 

to  Alva ;  owing  perhaps  to  the  circumstance  that,  as  the  instrument  for  the 
execution  of  the  duke  s  measures,  Vargas  was  brought  more  immediately  in 
contact  with  the  people  than  the  duke  himself. 

As  we  have  already  seen,  many,  especially  of  those  who  dwelt  in  the  border 
provinces,  escaped  the  storm  of  persecution  by  voluntary  exile.  The  sus- 
pected parties  would  seem  to  have  received,  not  unfrequently,  kindly  intima- 
tions from  the  local  magistrates  of  the  fate  that  menaced  them.*6  Others, 
who  lived  in  the  interior,  were  driven  to  more  desperate  courses.  They  banded 
together  in  considerable  numbers,  under  the  name  of  the  "  wild  Gtteu.v" — 
"Guevx  savages? — and  took  refuge  in  the  forests,  particularly  of  West 
Flanders.  Thence  they  sallied  forth,  fell  upon  unsuspecting  travellers,  espe- 
cially the  monks  and  ecclesiastics,  whom  they  robbed,  and  sometimes  murdered. 
Occasionally  they  were  so  bold  as  to  invade  the  monasteries  and  churches, 
stripping  them  of  their  rich  ornaments,  their  plate  and  other  valuables,  when, 
loaded  with  booty,  they  hurried  back  to  their  fastnesses.  The  evil  proceeded 
to  such  a  length  that  the  governor-general  was  obliged  to  order  out  a  strong 
force  to  exterminate  the  banditti,  while  at  the  same  time  he  published  an 
edict  declaring  that  every  district  should  be  held  responsible  for  the  damage 
done  to  property  within  its  limits  by  these  marauders."  " 

It  might  be  supposed  that,  under  the  general  feeling  of  resentment  pro- 
voked by  Alva's  cruel  policy,  his  life  would  nave  been  in  constant  danger  from 
the  hand  of  the  assassin.  Once,  indeed,  he  had  nearly  fallen  a  victim  to  a 
conspiracy  headed  by  two  brothers,  men  of  good  family  in  Flanders,  who 
formed  a  plan  to  kill  him  while  attending  mass  at  an  abbey  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Brussels.*8  But  Alva  was  not  destined  to  fall  by  the  hand  of  violence. 

We  may  well  believe  that  wise  and  temperate  men,  like  Viglius,  condemned 
the  duke^s  proceedings  as  no  less  impolitic  than  cruel  That  this  veteran 
councillor  difl  so  is  apparent  from  his  confidential  letters,  though  he  was  too 
prudent  to  expose  himself  to  Alva's  enmity  by  openly  avowing  it.*'  There 
were  others,  however, — the  princes  of  Germany,  in  particular, — who  had  no 
such  reasons  for  dissembling,  and  who  carried  their  remonstrances  to  a  higher 
tribunal  than  that  of  the  governor-general. 

On  the  second  of  March,  1568,  the  emperor  Maximilian,  in  the  name  of  the 
electors,  addressed  a  letter  to'Philip,  in  behalf  of  his  oppressed  subjects  in  the 
Netherlands.  He  reminded  the  king  that  he  had  already  more  than  once,  and 
in  most  affectionate  terms,  interceded  with  him  for  a  milder  and  more  merciful 
policy  towards  his  Flemish  subjects.  He  entreated  his  royal  kinsman  to 
reflect  whether  it  were  not  better  to  insure  the  tranquillity  of  the  state  by 
winning  the  hearts  of  his  people  than  by  excessive  rigour  to  drive  them  to 
extremity.  And  he  concluded  by  intimating  that,  as  a  member  of  the  Ger- 
manic body,  the  Netherlands  had  a  right  to  be  dealt  with  in  that  spirit  of 
clemency  which  was  conformable  to  the  constitutions  of  the  empire.40 

Although  neither  the  arguments  nor  the  importunity  of  Maximilian  had 
power  to  shake  the  constancy  of  Philip,  he  did  not  refuse  to  enter  into  some 
explanation,  if  not  vindication,  of  his  conduct  "  What  I  have  done,"  he 
replied,  vhas  been  for  the  repose  of  the  provinces  and  for  the  defence  of  the 
Catholic  faith.  If  I  had  respected  justice  less,  I  should  have  despatched 

"  Brandt,  Reformation  in  the  Low  Cuun-  funmtl  Inijus  temporis,  criminallumque  pro- 

t ri— .  vol.  i.  pp.  363,  264,  et  alibi.  cessuum  finetn,  qui  non  populum  tantum  non- 

'  GrutluK,  Anii.il>  s,  p.  29. — Vandervynckt,  tcuro,  sed  viclnos  omnes  exaspiTant."  Vlglii 

Trouble*  dee  Payo-Ban,  torn.  ii.  p.  450.  EpUt.  ad  Hopp«runi,  p.  482. 

"  Campana,  Uueim  de  Flandra,  fol.  38.—  '"  Correspondence  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii. 

Ferreran,  Hint.  d'Kupngne,  torn.  ix.  p.  s:5.  p.  16. 

•"  "  Valde     optareniua    tandem    aliquam 


836  REIGN  OF  TERROR. 

the  whole  business  in  a  single  day.  No  one  acquainted  with  the  state  of 
affairs  will  find  reason  to  censure  my  severity.  Nor  would  I  do  otherwise  than 
I  have  done,  though  I  should  risk  the  sovereignty  of  the  Netherlands, — no, 
though  the  world  should  fall  in  ruins  around  me  ! " 4I  Such  a  reply  effectually 
closed  the  correspondence. 

The  wretched  people  of  the  Netherlands,  meanwhile,  now  looked  to  the 
prince  of  Orange  as  the  only  refuge  left  them,  under  Providence.  Those  who 
fled  the  country,  especially  persons  of  higher  condition,  gathered  round  his 
little  court  at  Dillenburg,  where  they  were  eagerly  devising  plans  for  the  best 
means  of  restoring  freedom  to  their  country.  They  brought  with  them  repeated 
invitations  from  their  countrymen  to  William  that  he  would  take  up  arms  in 
their  defence.  The  Protestants  of  Antwerp,  in  particular,  promised  that,  if 
he  would  raise  funds  by  coining  his  plate,  they  would  agree  to  pay  him  double 
the  value  of  it.42 

William  had  no  wish  nearer  his  heart  than  that  of  assuming  the  enterprise. 
But  he  knew  the  difficulties  that  lay  in  the  way,  and,  like  a  wise  man,  he  was 
not  disposed  to  enter  on  it  till  he  saw  the  means  of  carrying  it  through  suc- 
cessfully. To  the  citizens  of  Antwerp  he  answered  that  not  only  would  he 
devote  his  plate,  but  his  person  and  all  that  he  possessed,  most  willingly,  for 
the  freedom  of  religion  and  of  his  country.48  But  the  expenses  of  raising 
a  force  were  great, — at  the  very  least,  six  hundred  thousand  florins  ;  nor  could 
he  now  undertake  to  procure  that  amount,  unless  some  of  the  principal 
merchants,  whom  he  named,  would  consent  to  remain  with  him  as  security.44 

In  the  mean  time  he  was  carrying  on  an  extensive  correspondence  with  the 
German  princes,  with  the  leaders  of  the  Huguenot  party  in  France,  and  even 
with  the  Englisn  government, — endeavouring  to  propitiate  them  to  the  cause, 
as  one  in  which  every  Protestant  had  an  interest.  From  the  elector  of 
Saxony  and  the  landgrave  of  Hesse  he  received  assurances  of  aii.  Consider- 
able sums  seem  to  have  been  secretly  remitted  from  the  principal  towns  in  the 
Low  Countries ;  while  Culemborg,  Hoogstraten,  Louis  of  Nassau,  and  the 
other  great  lords  who  shared  his  exile,  contributed  as  largely  as  their  dilapi- 
dated fortunes  would  allow.45  The  prince  himself  parted  with  his  most  precious 
effects,  pawning  his  jewels,  and  sending  his  plate  to  the  mint, — "  the  ornaments 
of  a  palace,"  exclaims  an  old  writer,  "  but  yielding  little  for  the  necessities 
of  war."  «• 

By  these  sacrifices  a  considerable  force  was  assembled  before  the  end  of 
April,  consisting  of  the  most  irregular  and  incongruous  materials.  There 
were  German  mercenaries,  who  had  no  interest  in  the  cause  beyond  their  pay ; 

"  "  Y  qnando  por  esta  causa  se  aventuras-  "  The  funds  were  chiefly  furnished,  as  it 

sen  los  Estados,  y  me  viniesse  &  caer  el  mun-  would  seem,  by  Antwerp,  and  the  great  towns 

do  encima."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  of  Holland,  Zealand,  Friesland,  and  Gronin- 

tom.  ii.  p.  27. — Philip  seems  to  have  put  him-  gen,  the  quarter  of  the  country  where  the 

self  in  the  attitude  of  the  "justum  et  tena-  spirit  of  independence  was  always  high.    The 

cem  "  of  Horace.    His  concluding  hyperbole  noble  exiles  with  William  contributed  half 

IB  almost  a  literal  version  of  the  Roman  bard :  the  amount  raised.     This  information  was 

«<  Gi  <•,.„)  „„  «ii  v.  *   .  «.KI-  given  to  Alva  by  Villers,  one  of  the  banished 

hLSSSnm  ?Pri!nt  r±t  »  W  *««  he  had  fallen  into  the  duke's  hands 

Impavidum  fenent  ruin*.  in  ft  disastrous  affair>  of  wnich  „,„,„  ^^ 

**  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  will  be  given  in  the  present  chapter.  Corre- 

Supplement,  p.  87.  gpoiidance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii.  p.  27. 

"  111  n'est  pas  seulement  content  de  s'em-  *•  "  Ipse  Arausionensis  tnonilia,  vasa  ar- 

ployer  a  la  necessite  presente  par  le  moyen  gentea,  tapetes,  caetera  supellectilis  divent 

par  eulx  propose  touchant  sa  vasselle,  ains  de  dit ,  digna  regio  palatio  ornamenta,  sed  exigui 

sa  propre  personne,  et  de  tout  ce  que  reste  ad  bellum  moment!."  Reidanus,  Annales, 

en  son  pouvoir."  Ibid.,  p.  88.  p.  6. 

**  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 


GRANGE  ASSEMBLES  AN  ARM\.  337 

Huguenots  from  France,  who  brought  into  the  field  a  hatred  of  the  Roman 
Catholics  which  made  them  little  welcome,  even  as  allies,  to  a  large  portion  of 
the  Netherlands ;  and  lastly,  exiles  from  the  Netherlands, — the  only  men 
worthy  of  the  struggle,— who  held  life  cheap  in  comparison  with  the  great 
cause  to  which  they  devoted  it.  But  these,  however  strong  in  their  patriotism, 
were  for  the  most  part  simple  burghers,  untrained  to  arms,  and  ill  fitted  to 
cope  with  the  hardy  veterans  of  Castile. 

Before  completing  his  levies,  the  prince  of  Orange,  at  the  suggestion  of  his 
friend  the  landgrave  of  Hesse,  prepared  and  published  a  document,  known  as 
his  "Justification,"  in  which  he  vindicated  himself  and  his  cause  from  the 
charges  of  Alva.  He  threw  the  original  blame  of  the  troubles  on  Granvelle, 
denied  having  planned  or  even  promoted  the  confederacy  of  the  nobles,  and 
treated  with  scorn  the  charge  of  having,  from  motives  of  criminal  ambition, 
fomented  rebellion  in  a  country  where  he  had  larger  interests  at  stake  than 
almost  any  other  inhabitant.  He  touched  on  his  own  services,  as  well  as 
those  of  his  ancestors,  and  the  ingratitude  with  which  they  had  been  requited 
by  the  throne.  And  in  conclusion  he  prayed  that  his  majesty  might  at  length 
open  his  eyes  to  the  innocence  of  his  persecuted  subjects,  ana  that  it  might  be 
made  apparent  to  the  world  that  the  wrongs  indicted  on  them  had  come  from 
evil  counsellors  rather  than  himself.47 

The  plan  of  the  campaign  was  to  distract  the  duke's  attention,  and,  if 
possible,  create  a  general  rising  in  the  country,  by  assailing  it  on  three  several 
points  at  once.  A  Huguenot  corps,  under  ah  adventurer  named  Cocqueville, 
was  to  operate  against  Artois ;  Hoogstraten,  with  the  lord  of  Villers,  and 
others  of  the  banished  nobles,  was  to  penetrate  the  country  in  a  central  direc- 
tion, through  Brabant ;  while  William's  brothers,  the  Counts  Louis  and 
Adolphus,  at  the  head  of  a  force  partly  Flemish,  partly  German,  were  to  carry 
the  war  over  the  northern  borders,  into  Groningen.  The  prince  himself,  who 
established  his  head-quarters  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Cleves,  was  busy  in 
assembling  a  force  prepared  to  support  any  one  of  the  divisions,  as  occasion 
might  require. 

It  was  the  latter  part  of  April  before  Hoogstraten  and  Louis  took  the  field. 
The  Huguenots  were  still  later ;  and  William  met  with  difficulties  which  greatly 
retarded  the  formation  of  his  own  corps.  The  great  difficulty — one  whicn 
threatened  to  defeat  the  enterprise  at  its  commencement-— was  the  want  of 
money,  equally  felt  in  raising  troops  and  in  enforcing  discipline  among  them 
when  they  were  raised.  "  If  you  have  any  love  for  me,"  he  writes  to  his  friend, 
the  "  wise  "  landgrave  of  Hesse,  "  I  beseech  you  to  aid  me  privately  with  a 

47  The  "Justification  "  has  been  very  com-  fared  with  the  prince's  "  Justification  "  as  it 

monly  attributed  to  the  pen  of  the  learned  did  with  the  famous  "  Farewell  Address  "  of 

I^angnet,  who  was  much  in  William's  con-  Washington,  so  often  attributed  to  another 

fldence,  and  is  known  to  bare  been  with  him  pen  than    his,  but  which,  however  mnrh  it 

at  tliti  time.     Bat  William  was  too  practised  may  have  been  benefited  by  the  counsels  and 

a  writer,  as  Oroen  well  suggests,  to  make  It  corrections  of  others,  bears  on   every  page 

probable  that  he  would  trust  the  composition  unequivocal  marks  of  its  genuineness.    The 

of  a  paper  of  such  moment  to  any  hand  but  "  Justification  "  called  out  several    answers 

his  own.    It  is  very  likely  that  be  submitted  from  the  opposite  party.     Among  them  were 

his  own  draft  to  the  revision  of  Languet,  two  by   Vargas  and   Del   Kio.     But   in   the 

whose  political  sagacity  he  well  understood.  judgment  of  Viglius— whose  bias  certainly 

And  this  Is  the  most  that  can  be  fiirly  inferred  did  not  lie  on  William's  sWe—  these  answers 

from  Kanguet's  own  account  of  the  matter:  were  a  failure.      See  hi*  letter  to  Hopper 

"Kiii  Dillemburgi  per  duodeclm  et  tredecim  (l-.pid.  ad  Hopperum,  p.  458).     The  reader 

dies,   ubi  Princeps  OrangUe  mihi  et  aliquot  wi  I  find  a  full  discussion  of  the  matt  r  l>y 

allis  curavlt  prollxe  expllcari  caunas  et  Initia  Groen.  in  the  Archives  de  U  Maison d'Orange- 

tumultuum  in  inferiore  German  ia  et  snam  Nassau,  torn.  Hi.  p.  187. 
respunsiouem  ad  accusatlones  Albani."      It 


338  REIGN  OF  TERROR. 

sura  sufficient  to  meet  the  pay  of  the  troops  for  the  first  month.  Without 
this  I  shall  be  in  danger  of  failing  in  my  engagements, — to  me  worse  than 
death  ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  ruin  which  such  a  failure  must  bring  on  our 
credit  and  on  the  cause."  "  We  are  constantly  reminded,  in  the  career  of  the 
prince  of  Orange,  of  the  embarrassments  under  which  our  own  Washington 
laboured  in  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  and  of  the  patience  and  unconquerable 
spirit  which  enabled  him  to  surmount  them. 

Little  need  be  said  of  two  of  the  expeditions,  which  were  failures.  Hoog- 
straten  had  scarcely  crossed  the  frontier,  towards  the  end  of  April,  when  he 
was  met  by  Alva's  trusty  lieutenant,  Sancho  Davila,  and  beaten,  with  con- 
siderable loss.  Villers  and  some  others  of  the  rebel  lords,  made  prisoners, 
escaped  the  sword  of  the  enemy  in  the  field,  to  fall  by  that  of  the  executioner 
in  Brussels.  Hoogstraten,  with  the  remnant  of  his  forces,  made  good  his 
retreat,  and  effected  a  junction  with  the  prince  of  Orange.4' 

Cocqueville  met  with  a  worse  fate.  A  detachment  of  French  troops  was 
sent  against  him  by  Charles  the  Ninth,  who  thus  requited  the  service  of  the 
same  kind  he  had  lately  received  from  the  duke  of  Alva.  On  the  approach  of 
their  countrymen,  the  Huguenots  basely  laid  down  their  arms.  Cocqueville 
and  his  principal  officers  were  surrounded,  made  prisoners,  and  perished 
ignominiously  on  the  scaffold.50 

The  enterprise  of  Louis  of  Nassau  was  attended  with  different  results.  Yet 
after  he  had  penetrated  into  Groningen  he  was  sorely  embarrassed  by  the 
mutinous  spirit  of  the  German  mercenaries.  The  province  was  defended  by 
Count  Aremberg,  its  governor,  a  brave  old  officer,  who  had  studied  the  art  of 
war  under  Charles  the  Fifth ;  one  of  those  models  of  chivalry  on  whom  the 
men  of  a  younger  generation  are  ambitious  to  form  themselves.  He  had  been 
employed  on  many  distinguished  services,  and  there  were  few  men  at  the 
court  of  Brussels  who  enjoyed  higher  consideration  under  both  Philip  and  his 
father.  The  strength  of  his  forces  lay  in  his  Spanish  infantry.  He  was 
deficient  in  cavalry,  but  was  soon  to  be  reinforced  by  a  body  of  horse  under 
Count  Megen,  who  was  a  day]s  march  in  his  rear. 

Aremberg  soon  came  in  sight  of  Louis,  who  was  less  troubled  by  the 
presence  of  his  enemy  than  by  the  disorderly  conduct  of  his  German  soldiers, 
clamorous  for  their  pay.  Doubtful  of  his  men,  Louis  declined  to  give  battle 
to  a  foe  so  far  superior  to  him  in  everything  but  numbers.  He  accordingly 
established  himself  in  an  uncommonly  strong  position,  which  the  nature  of  the 
ground  fortunately  afforded.  In  his  rear,  protected  by  a  thick  wood,  stood 
the  convent  of  Heyligerlee,  which  gave  its  name  to  the  battle.  In  front  the 
land  sloped  towards  an  extensive  morass.  His  infantry,  on  the  left,  was 
partly  screened  by  a  hill  from  the  enemy's  fire ;  and  on  the  right  he  stationed 
his  cavalry,  under  the  command  of  his  brother  Adolphus,  who  was  to  fall  on 
the  enemy's  flank,  should  they  be  hardy  enough  to  give  battle. 

But  Aremberg  was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  difficulties  of  the  ground 
to  risk  an  engagement,  at  least  till  he  was  strengthened  by  the  reinforcement 
under  Megen.  Unfortunately,  the  Spanish  infantry,  accustomed  to  victory, 
and  feeling  a  contempt  for  the  disorderly  levies  opposed  to  them,  loudly  called 
to  be  led  against  the  heretics.  In  vain  their  more  prudent  general  persisted 
iu  his  plan.  They  chafed  at  the  delay,  refusing  to  a  Flemish  commander  the 

"  "  En  quoy  ne  gist  pas  settlement  IP  blen  Supplement,  p.  89. 

d?  ce  faict,  ma's  aussi  mon  honeur  et  reputa-  *•  Mendo/A,  Comentarlos,  p.  42,  et  seq. — 

tion,  pour  avoir  promis  aus  gens  de  guerre  Cornejo.  l)is«n?ion  de  Flandcs,  p.  63. 

leur  paler  le  diet  mois,  et  que  j'aymerois  ""  Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Ban,  fol.  56. — 

mieulx  morir  qne  les  faillir  a  ma  promesse."  Dz  Thou,  Hist,  universelle,  torn.  v.  p.  443. 
Archives    de   U    Maison    d'Orauge-Nassau, 


BATTLE  OP  HEYLIGERLEE.  339 

'obedience  which  they  might  probably  have  paid  to  one  of  their  own  naticrs. 
They  openly  accused  him  of  treachery,  and  of  having  an  understanding  with 
his  countrymen  in  the  enemy's  camp.  Stung  by  their  reproaches,  Aremberg 
had  the  imprudence  to  do  what  more  than  one  brave  man  has  been  led  to  do, 
both  before  and  since  :  he  surrendered  his  own  judgment  to  the  importunities 
of  his  soldiers.  Crying  out  that  "  they  should  soon  see  if  he  were  a  traitor," sl 
he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  little  army  and  marched  against  the  enemy. 
His  artillery,  meanwhile,  which  he  had  posted  on  his  right,  opened  a  brisk 
fire  on  Louis's  left  wing,  where  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  ground,  it  did  little 
execution. 

Under  cover  of  this  fire  the  main  body  of  the  Spanish  infantry  moved  forward  ; 
but,  as  their  commander  had  foreseen,  the  men  soon  became  entangled  in  the 
morass ;  their  ranks  were  thrown  into  disorder ;  and  when  at  length,  after 
long  and  painful  efforts,  they  emerged  on  the  firm  ground,  they  were  more 
spent  with  toil  than  they  would  have  been  after  a  hard  day's  march.  Thus 
jaded,  and  sadly  in  disarray,  they  were  at  once  assailed  in  front  by  an  enemy 
who,  conscious  of  his  own  advantage,  was  all  fresh  and  hot  for  action.  Not- 
withstanding their  distressed  condition,  Aremberg's  soldiers  maintained  their 
ground  for  some  time,  like  men  unaccustomed  to  defeat.  At  length  Louis 
ordered  the  cavalry  on  his  right  to  charge  Aremberg's  flank.  This  unexpected 
movement,  occurring  at  a  critical  moment,  decided  the  day.  Assailed  in  front 
and  in  flank,  hemmed  in  by  the  fatal  morass  in  the  rear,  the  Spaniards  were 
thrown  into  utter  confusion.  In  vain  their  gallant  leader,  proof  against 
danger,  though  not  against  the  taunts  of  his  followers,  endeavoured  to  rally 
them.  His  horse  was  killed  under  him  ;  and,  as  he  was  mounting  another, 
he  received  a  shot  from  a  foot-soldier,  and  fell  mortally  wounded  from  his 
saddle.48  The  rout  now  became  general.  Some  took  to  the  morass,  and  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  victors.  Some  succeeded  in  cutting  their  way  through  the 
ranks  of  their  assailants,  while  many  more  lost  their  lives  in  the  attempt. 
The  ground  was  covered  with  the  wounded  and  the  dead.  The  victory  was 
complete. 

Sixteen  hundred  of  the  enemy  were  left  on  that  fatal  field.  In  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  exile  thirsting  for  vengeance,  it  might  serve  in  some  degree  to 
balance  the  bloody  roll  of  victims  whom  the  pitiless  duke  had  sent  to  their 
account.  Nine  pieces  of  artillery,  with  a  large  quantity  of  ammunition  and 
military  stores,  a  rich  service  of  plate  belonging  to  Aremberg,  and  a  consider- 
able sum  of  money  lately  received  by  him  to  pay  the  arrears  of  the  soldiers, 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  patriots.  Yet  as  serious  a  loss  as  any  inflicted  on 
the  Spaniards  was  that  of  their  brave  commander.  His  corpse,  disfigured  by 
wounds,  was  recognized,  amid  a  heap  of  the  slain,  by  the  insignia  of  the 
Golden  Fleece,  which  he  wore  round  his  neck,  and  which  Louis  sent  to  the 
prince,  his  brother,  as  a  proud  trophy  of  his  victory.**  The  joy  of  the  con- 

"  "  Ainu,  com  me  gens  prede§tlnez  a  leur  made  him  a  favourite  with  t  In-  damps  of  the 

malheur  ct  de  leur  general,  crlerent  plus'que  royal  circle :  "  Un  tres  beau  et  tre^  agrcable 

devant  centre  luyjuequesa  1'appeler  ttaistre,  seigneur,    surtout  de  fort    granite  ct  haute 

et  qu'il  s'entendolt  avec  let  enneniis.     Luy,  taflle  t-t  df  tre*  belle  apparent?."    (CEuvren, 

qui  estolt  tout  noble  et  courageux,  leur  dit :  turn.  i.  p.  383.)   Nor  dt  <•-  he  omit  to  mention, 

'Ouy.je  vous  monntreray  «i  je  le  luis."  Itran-  among  other  accompliKhinint-,  the  fluency 

t.'inf,  (Euvres,  torn.  i.  p.  382.  with  which  he  could  apeak  Ktench  and  several 

'"  Rrantome  haa  given  us  the  portrait  nf  other  languagea.     Ibid.,  p.  3*4. 

thU  Flemish  nobleman,  with  whom  he  became  "  See  a  lettrr  written,  a*  wems  prohaMe, 

acquainted  on  Ills  visit  to  Paris,  when  otit  by  a  councillor  of  William  to  the  elector  of 

tliither  by  Alva  to  relieve  the  French  mon-  Saxony,  the  week  after  the  battle.     Archives 

nnli.    The  chivalrous  old  writer  duelU  on  tie  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nussau,  torn.  Hi.  p. 

tli  •   permmul   appearance    of   Aremberg,  hU  221. 
nyi-lc  mien  and  high-bred  courte.-y,  which 


340  REIGN  OP  TERROR 

querors  was  dimmed  by  one  mournful  event,  the  death  of  Count  Adolphus  of 
Nassau,  who  fell,  bravely  fighting,  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  one  of  the  first 
victims  in  the  war  of  the  revolution.  He  was  a  younger  brother  of  William, 
only  twenty-seven  years  of  age.  But  he  had  already  given  promise  of  those 
heroic  qualities  which  proved  him  worthy  of  the  generous  race  from  which  he 
sprang.44 

The  battle  was  fought  on  the  twenty-third  of  May,  1568.  On  the  day 
following,  Count  Megen  arrived  with  a  reinforcement, — too  late  to  secure  the 
victory,  but  not,  as  it  proved,  too  late  to  snatch  the  fruits  of  it  from  the  victors. 
By  a  rapid  movement,  he  succeeded  in  throwing  himself  into  the  town  of 
Groningen,  and  thus  saved  that  important  place  from  falling  into  the  hands 
of  the  patriots.*5 

The  tidings  of  the  battle  of  Heyligerlee  caused  a  great  sensation  through 
the  country.  While  it  raised  the  hopes  of  the  malecon  tents,  it  filled  the  duke 
of  Alva  with  indignation, — the  greater,  as  he  perceived  that  the  loss  of  the 
battle  was  to  be  referred  mainly  to  the  misconduct  of  his  own  soldiers.  lie 
saw  with  alarm  the  disastrous  effect  likely  to  be  produced  by  so  brilliant  a 
success  on  the  part  of  the  rebels  in  the  very  beginning  of  the  struggle.  The 
hardy  men  of  Friesland  would  rise  to  assert  their  independence.  The  prince 
of  Orange,  with  his  German  levies,  would  unite  with  his  victorious  brother,  and, 
aided  by  the  inhabitants,  would  be  in  condition  to  make  formidable  head 
against  any  force  that  Alva  could  muster.  It  was  an  important  crisis,  and 
called  for  prompt  and  decisive  action.  The  duke,  with  Iris  usual  energy, 
determined  to  employ  no  agent  here,  but  to  take  the  affair  into  his  own  hands, 
concentrate  his  forces,  and  march  in  person  against  the  enemy. 

Yet  there  were  some  things  he  deemed  necessary  to  be  done,  if  it  were  only 
for  their  effect  on  the  public  mind,  before  entering  on  the  campaign.  On  the 
twenty-eighth  of  May,  sentence  was  passed  on  the  prince  of  Orange,  his 
brother  Louis,  and  their  noble  companions.  They  were  pronounced  guilty  of 
contumacy  in  not  obeying  the  summons  of  the  council,  and  of  levying  war 
against  tne  king.  For  this  they  were  condemned  to  perpetual  banishment, 
and  their  estates  confiscated  to  the  use  of  the  crown.  The  sentence  was 
signed  by  the  duke  of  Alva.48  William's  estates  had  been  already  seques- 
trated, and  a  body  of  Spanish  troops  was  quartered  in  his  town  of  Breda. 

Another  act,  of  a  singular  nature,  intimated  pretty  clearly  the  dispositions  of 
the  government.  The  duke  caused  the  Hotel  de  Culemborg,  where  he  had 
fixed  his  own  residence  before  the  regent's  departure,  and  where  the  Gueux 
had  held  their  meetings  on  coming  to  Brussels,  to  be  levelled  with  the  ground. 
On  the  spot  a  marble  column  was  raised,  bearing  on  each  side  of  the  base  the 
following  inscription :  "  Here  once  stood  the  mansion  of  Florence  Pallant,;J 

"  It  la  a  common  report  of  historians  that  382,  et  seq., — Bentivogllo,  Guerra  di  Fiandra. 
Adolphus  and  Aremberg  met  in  single  combat  p.  192,  et  ceq.— The  last  writer  tells  us  he 
in  the  thick  of  the  fight  and  fell  by  each  had  heard  the  story  mure  than  once  from  the 
other's  hands.  See  Cornejo,  Disension  de  son  and  heir  of  the  deceased  Count  Aremberg, 
Flandes,  fol.  63 ;  Strada,  De  Hello  Belgico,  who  sorely  lamented  that  his,  gallant  father 
torn.  i.  p.  282  ;  et  ol.  An  incident  so  roman-  should  have  thrown  away  his  life  for  a  mis- 
tic  found  easy  credit  in  a  romantic  age.  taken  point  of  honour. — In  addition  to  the 

"  The  accounts  of  the  battle  of  Heyligerlee,  alove  authorities,  1  regret  it  is   Dot  in  my 

given  somewhat  confusedly,  may  be  found  in  power  to  cite  a  volume   published    by   M. 

Herrera,  Hist.del  M  undo,  torn.  i.  p.  6#->,etseq.,  Gacliard  since  the  present chapter  was  written. 

— C.impana,    Guerra    di    Fiandra    (Vicenza,  It  contains  the  correspondence  of  Alva  relat- 

1C«2).  p.  42,  et  seq.,— Mendoza,  Comentarios  ing  to  the  invasion  by  Louis. 

(Madrid,  1592),  p.  43,  et  eeq.,— Cornejo,  DI-  ••  Viglii  Epist.  ad  Hopporum,  p.  181.— The 

pension  de  Flandes,  fol.  66,  et  seq.,— Carnero,  s?ntence  of  the  prince  of  Orange  may  be  found 

Guerras  de  Flandes  (Brusselas,  1625),  p.  1*,  iu  the  Sententien  van  Alba,  p.  70. 
et  seq.,— Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p. 


ALVA'S  PROCEEDINGS.  341 

— the  name  of  the  Count  of  Culemborg, — "  now  razed  to  the  ground  for  the 
execrable  conspiracy  plotted  therein  against  religion,  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  the  king's  majesty,  and  the  country."  *'  Alva  by  this  act  intended 
doubtless  to  proclaim  to  the  world,  not  so  much  his  detestation  of  the  con- 
federacy— that  would  have  been  superfluous — as  his  determination  to  show 
no  mercy  to  those  who  had  taken  part  in  it.  Indeed,  in  his  letters,  on  more 
than  one  occasion,  he  speaks  of  the  signers  of  the  Compromise  as  men  who 
had  placed  themselves  beyond  the  pale  of  mercy. 

But  all  these  acts  were  only  the  prelude  to  the  dismal  tragedy  which  was 
soon  to  be  performed.  Nearly  nine  months  had  elapsed  since  the  arrest  of 
the  Counts  Egmont  and  Hoorne.  During  all  this  time  they  had  remained 
prisoners  of  state,  under  a  strong  guard,  hi  the  castle  of  Ghent.  Their 
prosecution  had  been  conducted  in  a  deliberate,  and  indeed  dilatory,  manner, 
which  had  nourished  in  their  friends  the  hope  of  a  favourable  issue.  Alva 
now  determined  to  bring  the  trial  to  a  close, — to  pass  sentence  of  death  on 
the  two  lords,  and  to  carry  it  into  execution  before  departing  on  his  expe- 
dition. 

It  was  in  vain  that  some  of  his  counsellors  remonstrated  on  the  impolicy, 
at  a  crisis  like  the  present,  of  outraging  the  feelings  of  the  nation,  by  whom 
Egmont,  in  particular,  was  so  much  beloved.  In  vain  they  suggested  that 
the  two  nobles  would  serve  as  hostages  for  the  good  behaviour  of  the  people 
during  his  absence,  since  any  tumult  must  only  tend  to  precipitate  the  fate  of 
the  prisoners.58  Whether  it  was  that  Alva  distrusted  the  effect  on  his  master 
of  the  importunities,  from  numerous  quarters,  in  their  behalf,  or,  what  is  far 
more  likely,  that  he  feared  lest  some  popular  rising,  during  his  absence,  might 
open  the  gates  to  his  prisoners,  he  was  determined  to  proceed  at  once  to  then: 
execution.  His  appetite  for  vengeance  may  have  been  sharpened  by  mortifi- 
cation at  the  reverse  his  arms  had  lately  experienced  ;  and  ne  may  have  felt 
that  a  blow  like  the  present  would  be  the  most  effectual  to  humble  the  arro- 
gance of  the  nation. 

There  were  some  other  prisoners,  of  less  note,  but  of  no  little  consideration, 
who  remained  to  be  disposed  of.  Their  execution  would  prepare  the  public 
mind  for  the  last  scene  of  the  drama.  There  were  nineteen  persons  who,  at 
this  time,  lay  in  confinement  in  the  castle  of  Vilvoorde,  a  fortress  of  great 
strength,  two  leagues  distant  from  Brussels.  They  were  chiefly  men  of  rank, 
and  for  the  most  part  members  of  the  Union.  For  these  latter,  of  course, 
there  was  no  hope.  Their  trials  were  now  concluded,  and  they  were  only 
awaiting  their  sentences.  On  the  ominous  twenty-eighth  of  May,  a  day  on 
which  the  Council  of  Blood  seems  to  have  been  uncommonly  alert,  they  were 
all,  without  exception,  condemned  to  be  beheaded,  and  their  estates  were 
confiscated  to  the  public  use. 

On  the  first  of  June  they  were  brought  to  Brussels,  having  been  escorted 
there  by  nine  companies  of  Spanish  infantry,  were  conducted  to  the  great 
square  in  front  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and,  while  the  drums  beat  to  prevent 
their  last  words  from  reaching  the  ears  of  the  bystanders,  their  heads  were 
struck  off  by  the  sword  of  the  executioner.  Eight  of  the  number,  who  died 

"  Vlglii  KplM,  ad  Hoppernm,  p.  481 —  See  Rciflenberg,  Correspondence  de  Margue- 

Strada,  De  Belli.  Beltfco,  turn.  1.  p.  373.— Vera  rite  d'Autrkhe,  p.  363. 

y   Figueroa,    Vida  de   Alva,   p.    lol. — The  "  "Hli  tamen  A 1  ban  us  facile  cpntemptta. 

Hotel  de  Culeraborg,  so  memorable  for  its  quippe  a  dluterna  rerunt  experientia  8uu>lcax, 

connection  with  the  early  meetinga  of  the  et  nuopte  ingenlo  ab  allorum  conslliiaisl  ultro 

Gueux,  bad  not  been  long  in  posnewilon  of  prawertim  offirrentur.  avenms."    Strada,  i*u 

Count  Culemborg,  who  purcha»-d  It  an  late  at  Ltello  Helgico,  torn.  1.  p.  3*6. 
1&06.    It  sto  d  on  tbe  Place  du  Petit  Sablon. 


342  TRIALS  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  were  graciously  allowed  the  rites  of  Christian 
burial.  The  heads  of  the  remaining  eleven  were  set  upon  poles,  and  their 
bodies  left  to  rot  upon  the  gibbet,  like  those  of  the  vilest  malefactors.49 

On  the  second  of  June  ten  or  twelve  more,  some  of  them  persons  of  dis- 
tinction, perished  on  the  scaffold,  in  the  same  square  in  Brussels.  Among 
these  was  Villers,  the  companion  of  Hoogstraten  in  the  ill-starred  expedition 
to  Brabant,  in  which  he  was  made  prisoner.  Since  his  captivity  he  made 
some  disclosures  respecting  the  measures  of  Orange  and  his  party,  which 
might  have  entitled  him  to  the  consideration  of  Alva.  But  he  had  signed  the 
Compromise. 

On  the  following  day  five  other  victims  were  led  to  execution  within  the 
walls  of  Vilvoorde,  where  they  had  been  long  confined.  One  of  these  has 
some  interest  for  us,  Casenibrot,  lord  of  Backerzeele,  Egmont's  confidential 
secretary.  That  unfortunate  gentleman  had  been  put  to  the  rack  more  than 
once,  to  draw  from  him  disclosures  to  the  prejudice  of  Egmont.  But  his  con- 
stancy proved  stronger  than  the  cruelty  of  his  persecutors.  He  was  now  to 
close  his  sufferings  by  an  ignominious  death  ;  so  far  fortunate,  however,  that 
it  saved  him  from  witnessing  the  fate  of  his  beloved  master.60  Such  were  the 
gloomy  scenes  which  ushered  in  the  great  catastrophe  of  the  fifth  of  June. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

TRIALS  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

The  Examination— Efforts  in  their  Behalf— Specification  of  Charges — Sentence  of  Death — The 
Processes  reviewed. 

1568. 

NINE  months  had  now  elapsed  since  the  Counts  Egmont  and  Hoorne  had  been 
immured  within  the  strong  citadel  of  Ghent.    During  their  confinement  they 

*•  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn,  i  p.  386. —  zeele  was  torn  asunder  by  horses :  "  Da  quat- 
Gnerres  civilesdu  Pays-Bag, p.  171.— Meteren,  tro  cavalli  fu  smembrato  vivo  in  Brusselles  il 
Hist,  des  Pays-Bag,  fol.  57. — The  third  volume  Casembrot  gia  segretario  dell'  Agamonte." 
of  the  Archives  de  la  Maisond'Orange-Nassau  (Guerra  di  Fiandra,  p.  200.)  But  Alva's 
contains  a  report  of  this  execution  from  an  character,  hard  and  unscrupulous  as  he  may 
eye-witness,  a  courier  of  Alva,  who  left  Brus-  have  been  in  carrying  out  his  designs,  does 
scls  the  day  after  the  event  ami  was  inter-  not  warrant  the  imputation  of  an  act  of  such 
cepted  on  bis  route  by  the  patriots.  One  may  wanton  cruelty  as  this.  Happily,  it  is  not 
imagine  the  interest  with  which  William  and  justified  by  historic  testimony ;  no  notice  of 
his  friends  listened  to  the  recital  of  the  tragedy,  the  fact  being  found  in  Strada,  or  Meteren,  or 
and  how  deep  must  have  been  their  anxiity  the  author  of  the  Guerres  civilcs  du  Pays-Baa, 
for  the  fate  of  their  other  friends,— Hoorne  not  to  add  other  writers  of  the  time,  who 
and  Egmont  in  particular, — over  whom  the  cannot  certainly  be  charged  with  undue  par- 
sword  of  the  executioner  hung  by  a  thread.  tiality  to  the  Spaniards.  If  so  atrocious  a 
We  may  w>  11  credit  the  account  of  the  con-  deed  had  been  perpetrated,  it  would  be  passing 
sternation  that  reigned  throughout  Brussels :  strange  that  it  should  not  have  found  a  place 
"  11  affirme  que  c'estoit  une  chose  de  1'autre  in  the  catalogue  of  crimes  imputed  to  Alva  by 
monde,  le  crys,  lamentation  et  juste  compas-  the  prince  of  Orange.  See,  in  particular,  his 
eion  qu'aviont  tous  ceux  de  la  ville  du  dit  letter  to  Schwendi,  written  in  an  agony 
Brnxelles,  nobles  et  ignobles.pour  ceste  bar-  of  grief  and  indignation,  soon  after  he  bad 
bare  tyrannic,  mais  que  nonobstant,  ce  cestuy  learned  the  execution  of  bis  friends.  Ar- 
Nero  d'Alvese  vante  en  ferat  le  temblable  de  chives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn, 
tous  ceulx  quy  potra  avoir  en  mains."  p.  241.  iii.  p.  244. 

'"  If  we  are  to  believe  Beutivoglio,  Backer- 


THE  EXAMINATION.  343 

had  met  with  even  less  indulgence  than  was  commonly  shown  to  prisoners  of 
state.  They  were  not  allowed  to  take  the  air  of  the  castle,  and  were  debarred 
from  all  intercourse  with  the  members  of  their  families.  The  sequestration  of 
their  property  at  the  time  of  their  arrest  had  moreover  reduced  them  to  such 
extreme  indigence  that  but  for  the  care  of  their  friends  they  would  have 
wanted  the  common  necessaries  of  life.1 

During  this  period  their  enemies  had  not  been  idle.  We  have  seen,  at  the 
time  of  the  arrest  of  the  two  nobles,  that  their  secretaries  and  their  private 
papers  had  been  also  seized.  "  Backerzeele,"  writes  the  duke  of  Alva  to 
Philip,  "  makes  disclosures  every  day  respecting  his  master,  Count  Egmont. 
When  he  is  put  to  the  torture,  wonders  may  be  expected  from  him  in  this 
way ! "  *  But  all  that  the  rack  extorted  from  the  unhappy  man  was  some 
obscure  intimation  respecting  a  place  in  which  Egrnont  had  secreted  a  portion 
of  his  effects.  After  turning  up  the  ground  in  every  direction  round  the 
castle  of  Ghent,  the  Spaniards  succeeded  in  disinterring  eleven  boxes  filled 
with  plate,  and  some  caskets  of  jewels,  and  other  precious  articles, — all  that 
now  remained  of  Egmont's  once  splendid  fortune.* 

Meanwhile,  commissioners  were  sent  into  the  provinces  placed  under  the 
rule  of  the  two  noblemen  to  collect  information  respecting  their  government. 
The  burgomasters  of  the  towns  were  closely  questioned,  and,  where  they 
showed  reluctance,  were  compelled  by  menaces  to  answer.  But  what  Alva 
chiefly  relied  on  was  the  examination  of  the  prisoners  themselves. 

On  the  twelfth  of  November,  1567,  a  commission,  composed  of  Vargas,  Del 
Rio,  and  the  Secretary  Pratz,  proceeded  to  Ghent  and  began  a  personal 
examination  of  Egmont.  The  interrogatories  covered  the  whole  ground  of  the 
recent  troubles.  They  were  particularly  directed  to  ascertain  Egmont's 
relations  with  the  reformed  party,  but,  above  all,  his  connection  with  tne  con- 
federates,— the  offence  of  deepest  dye  in  the  view  of  the  commissioners.  The 
examination  continued  through  five  days ;  and  a  record,  signed  and  sworn  to 
by  the  several  parties,  furnished  the  basis  of  the  future  proceedings  against 
the  prisoner.  A  similar  course  was  then  taken  in  regard  to  Hoorne.4 

In  the  meantime  the  friends  of  the  two  nobles  were  making  active  exertions 
in  their  behalf.  Egmont,  as  we  have  already  seen,  was  married  to  a  German 
princess,  Sabina,  sister  of  the  elector  of  Bavaria, — a  lady  who,  from  her  rank, 
the  charm  of  her  manners,  and  her  irreproachable  character,  was  the  most  dis- 
tinguished ornament  of  the  court  of  Brussels.  She  was  the  mother  of  eleven 
children,  the  eldest  of  them  still  of  tender  age.  Surrounded  by  this  numerous 
and  helpless  family,  thus  suddenly  reduced  from  affluence  to  miserable  penury, 
the  countess  became  the  object  of  general  commiseration.  Even  the  stern 

1  Bor,  the  old  Dutch  historian,  contemporary  valuable  compilation  of  the  correspondence 

with  these  events,  says  that  "if  it  hail  not  of  Margaret.    Both  the  question!)  and  an*  were, 

been  fur  the  countess  dowager,  Hoorne's  step-  strange  as  It  may  seem,  were  originally  drawn 

mother,    that    noble    would    actually    have  up  in  Cuotilian.     A  French  version  was  iin- 

Btarved  in   prison  from  want  of  money  to  mediately  made  by  the   Secretary   Pratt, — 

procure  him*  If  food !"    A  rend,  Algemeene  probably  for  the  benefit  of  the  Flemish  coun- 

UeacniedenU  des  Vaderlanda,  1).  ii.  St.  v.  bl.  dllors   of  the   bloody  tribunal.      Both  the 

37.  CMtilian  and  French  MSS.  were  preserved  in 

•  "Ce  dernier  fait  chnque  Jour  des  aveux,  the  archives  of  the  house  of  Egmont  until  the 
et  on  peut  s'attendrequ'll  dira  desnierveilles,  middle  of  the  last  century,  when  an  unworthy 
lomqu'll  sera  mis  a  la  torture."    Correspon-  heir  of  this  ancient  line  suffered  them  to  p«88 
dance  de  Philippe  II..  torn.  i.  p.  689.  into   other    hand*.      They    were  afterwards 

'  Vandervynckt,    Troubles  des   Pays- Pas,  purchased  by  the  crown,  and  are  now  In  a 

torn.  Ii.  p.  347.  fitting  place  <>f  deposit,— the  archives  of  the 

*  The  Interrogatoire*,  filling  nearly  fifty  kingdom  of  Holland.     The   MS.  printed  by 
octavo  page*,  were  (Mven  to  the  public  by  the  KelOenberg  in  in  French. 

late   Baron   He  Iff  en  berg,   at  the  end  of  his 


344  TRIALS  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

heart  of  Alva  seems  to  have  been  touched,  as  he  notices  her  "lamentable 
situation,"  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Philip.* 

The  unhappy  lady  was  fortunate  in  securing  the  services  of  Nicholas  de 
Landas,  one  of  the  most  eminent  jurists  of  the  country,  and  a  personal  friend 
of  her  husband.  In  her  name,  he  addressed  letters  to  several  of  the  German 
princes,  and  to  the  emperor  Maximilian,  requesting  their  good  offices  in  behalf 
of  her  lord.  He  also  wrote  both  to  Alva  and  the  king,  less  to  solicit  the 
release  of  Egmont — a  thing  little  to  be  expected — than  to  obtain  the  removal 
of  the  cause  from  the  Council  of  Blood  to  a  court  consisting  of  the  knights  of 
the  Golden  Fleece.  To  this  both  Egmont  and  Hoorne  had  a  good  claim,  as 
belonging  to  that  order,  the  statutes  of  which,  solemnly  ratified  by  Philip  him- 
self, guaranteed  to  its  members  the  right  of  being  tried  only  by  their  peers. 
The  frank  and  independent  tone  with  which  the  Flemish  jurist,  himself  also 
one  of  the  order,  and  well  skilled  in  the  law,  urged  this  claim  on  the  Spanish 
monarch,  reflects  honour  on  his  memory. 

Hoorne's  wife,  also  a  German  lady  of  high  connections,  and  his  step-mother, 
the  countess-dowager,  were  unwearied  in  their  exertions  in  his  behalf.  They 
wrote  to  the  knights  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  in  whatever  country  residing,  and 
obtained  their  written  testimony  to  the  inalienable  right  of  the  accused  to  be 
tried  by  his  brethren.6  This  was  obviously  a  point  of  the  last  importance, 
since  a  trial  by  the  Council  of  Blood  was  itself  equivalent  to  a  condemnation. 

Several  of  the  electors,  as  well  as  other  princes  of  the  empire,  addressed 
Philip  directly  on  the  subject,  beseeching  him  to  deal  with  the  two  nobles 
according  to  the  statutes  of  the  order.  Maximilian  wrote  two  letters  to  the 
same  purpose ;  and,  touching  on  the  brilliant  services  of  Egmont,  he  endea- 
voured to  excite  the  king's  compassion  for  the  desolate  condition  of  the  countess 
and  her  children.' 

But  it  was  not  foreigners  only  who  interceded  in  behalf  of  the  lords.  Mans- 
feldt,  than  whom  Philip  had  not  a  more  devoted  subject  in  the  Netherlands, 
implored  his  sovereign  to  act  conformably  to  justice  and  reason  hi  the  matter.8 
Count  Barlaimont,  who  on  all  occasions  had  proved  himself  no  less  stanch  in 
his  loyalty,  found  himself  now  in  an  embarrassing  situation,— being  both  a 
knight  of  the  order  and  a  member  of  the  Council  of  Troubles.  He  wrote 
accordingly  to  Philip,  beseeching  his  majesty  to  relieve  him  from  the  necessity 
of  either  acting  like  a  disloyal  subject  or  of  incurring  the  reproaches  of  his 
brethren.' 

Still  more  worthy  of  notice  is  the  interference  of  Cardinal  Granvelle,  who, 
forgetting  his  own  disgrace,  for  which  he  had  been  indebted  to  Egmont  per- 
haps as  much  as  to  any  other  person,  now  generously  interceded  in  behalf  of 
his  ancient  foe.  He  invoked  the  clemency  of  Philip,  as  more  worthy  of  a 
great  prince  than  rigour.  He  called  to  mind  the  former  good  deeds  of  the 
count,  and  declared,  if  he  had  since  been  led  astray,  the  blame  was  chargeable 
on  others  rather  than  on  himself.'*  But  althougn  the  cardinal  wrote  more 
than  once  to  the  king  in  this  strain,  it  was  too  late  to  efface  the  impression 
made  by  former  communications,  in  which  he  had  accused  his  rival  of  being 
a  party  to  the  treasonable  designs  of  the  prince  of  Orange.11  This  impression 

•  Correspondance  de  Philippe  IL,  torn.  ii.       torn.  i.  p.  607. 

p.  14-  •  Ibid.,  p.  614. 

•  Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  i.  p.  244.  '•"  Ibid.,  p.  599. 

'  Ibid.,  p.  219.— Correspondancede  Philippe  "  "  Le  Comte  d'Egmont,"  said  Granvelle, 

fL.tum.  i.  p.  588.  in  a  letter  so  recent  as  August  17th,  1567, 

•  "  La  suppliant  de  prendre  en  cette  affaire  "disait  au  prince  que  leurs  menees  etaient 
la  determination   que   la  raison  et   1'equite  decouvertes;  que  le  Roi  fasait  des  arm<  ments ; 
reclament."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  J  I.,  qu'ils  ne  sauraient  lui  register;   qu'ainsi  U 


SPECIFICATION  OF  CHARGES.  345 

had  been  deepened  by  the  reports  from  time  to  time  received  from  the  regent, 
who  at  one  period,  as  we  have  seen,  withdrew  her  confidence  altogether  from 
Egmont.  Thus  the  conviction  of  that  nobleman's  guilt  was  so  firmly  settled 
in  the  king's  mind  that  when  Alva  received  the  government  of  the  Nether- 
lands there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Egmont  was  already  marked  out  as  the 
first  great  vietim  to  expiate  the  sins  of  the  nation.  The  arguments  and 
entreaties,  therefore,  used  on  the  present  occasion  to  dissuade  Philip  from  his 
purpose  had  no  other  etiect  than  to  quicken  his  movements.  Anxious  to  rid 
himself  of  importunities  so  annoying,  he  ordered  Alva  to  press  forward  the 
trial,  adding,  at  the  same  time,  that  all  should  be  made  so  clear  that  the 
world,  whose  eyes  were  now  turned  on  these  proceedings,  might  be  satisfied 
of  their  justice.1* 

Before  the  end  of  December  the  attorney -general,  Du  Bois,  had  prepared 
the  articles  of  accusation  against  Egmont.  They  amounted  to  no  less  than 
ninety,  some  of  them  of  great  length.  They  chiefly  rested  on  evidence  de- 
rived from  the  personal  examination,  sustained  by  information  gathered  from 
other  quarters.  The  first  article,  which  indeed  may  be  said  to  have  been  the 
key  to  all  the  rest,  charged  Egmont  with  having  conspired  with  William  and 
the  other  banished  lords  to  shake  off  the  Spanish  rule  and  divide  the  govern- 
ment among  themselves.  With  this  view  he  had  made  war  on  the  faithful 
Granvelle,  had  sought  to  concentrate  the  powers  of  the  various  councils  into 
one,  had  resisted  the  Inquisition,  had  urgeu  the  meeting  of  the  states-general, 
in  short,  had  thwarted,  as  far  as  possible,  in  every  particular,  the  intentions 
of  the  king.  He  was  accused,  moreover,  of  giving  encouragement  to  the 
sectaries.  He  had  not  only  refused  his  aid  when  asked  to  repress  their 
violence,  but  had  repeatedly  licensed  their  meetings  and  allowed  them  to 
celebrate  their  religious  rites.  Egmont  was  too  stanch  a  Catholic  to  warrant 
his  own  faith  being  called  into  question.  It  was  only  in  connection  with  the 
political  movements  of  the  country  that  he  was  supposed  to  have  coun- 
tenanced the  party  of  religious  reform.  Lastly,  he  was  charged  not  only  with 
al>etting  the  confederacy  of  the  nobles,  but  with  having,  in  conjunction  with 
the  prince  of  Orange  and  his  associates,  devised  the  original  plan  of  it  It 
was  proof  of  the  good  will  he  bore  the  league,  that  he  nad  retained  in  his 
service  more  than  one  member  of  his  household  after  they  had  subscribed  the 
Compromise.  On  these  various  grounds,  Egmont  was  declared  to  be  guilty 
of  treason.1* 

The  charges,  which  cover  a  great  space,  would  seem  at  the  first  glance  to 
be  crudely  put  together,  confounding  things  trivial,  and  even  irrelevant  to 
the  question,  with  others  of  real  moment.14  Yet  they  must  be  admitted 
to  have  been  so  cunningly  prepared  as  to  leave  an  impression  most  unfavour- 
able to  the  innocence  of  the  prisoner.  The  attorney-general,  sometimes 
audaciously  perverting  the  answers  of  Egmont,1*  at  other  times  giving  an 

leur  fallait  illsaimuler,  et  s'accommoder  le  opinion  of  the  frienda  of  the  government, 

mieux  possible,  en  attendant  d'antrctt  circon-  Councillor  Ik-Un  writes  to  tiranvelle,  Decem- 

stances,  pour  reallser  leurs  desoclns."    Corre-  her  1 4th,  1587,  "They  have  arrested  Hoorne 

spomlance  d<>  I'hilippe  II.,  torn.  I.  p.  661.  and  Kgmont,  but  In  their  accusations  have 

"  "Tout  ce  qui  rest  pasb£  dolt  rtre  tire  an  not  confined  themselves  to  Individual  charges, 

claire.nour  qn'll  soit  bien  constant  qne,  dans  but  have  accumulated  a  confused  mass  of 

tine  aff. ilre  stir  laqwlle  le  rnonde  cutler  a  les  things."    Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth 

•  yeux  fixes,  le  Rol  ct  In!  ont  precede  avec  Centuries,  vol.  I.  p.  183. 

justice."    Ibid.,  p.  609.  "    For    example,    see    the    thirty-eighth 

11  This  ted  ion-  Instrument  Is  given  t'n  ex-  article.  In  which  the  atto'ney-general  accuses 

ten  to  by  Foppens,  Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  Kgniont  of  admitting,  on   his  examination, 

1.  pp.  -tit.::.  that  he  had  parted  with  one  of  his  follower*, 

"  Indeed,  tills  seem*  to  have   been  the  suspected  of  heretical  opinions,  for  a  short 


346  TRIALS  OP  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

exaggerated  importance  to  his  occasional  admissions,  succeeded  in  spreading 
his  meshes  so  artfully  that  it  required  no  slight  degree  of  coolness  ana  circum- 
spection, even  in  an  innocent  party,  to  escape  from  them. 

The  instrument  was  delivered  to  Egmont  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  December. 
Five  days  only  were  allowed  him  to  prepare  his  defence, — and  that,  too,  with- 
out the  aid  of  a  friend  to  support  or  of  counsel  to  advise  him.  He  at  first 
resolutely  declined  to  make  a  defence  at  all,  declaring  that  he  was  amenable 
to  no  tribunal  but  that  of  the  members  of  the  order.  Being  informed,  how- 
ever, that  if  he  persisted  he  would  be  condemned  for  contumacy,  he  consented, 
though  with  a  formal  protest  against  the  proceedings  as  illegal,  to  enter  on 
his  defence. 

He  indignantly  disclaimed  the  idea  of  any  design  to  subvert  the  existing 
government.  He  admitted  the  charges  in  regard  to  his  treatment  of  Gran- 
velle,  and  defended  his  conduct  on  tne  ground  of  expediency, — of  its  being 
demanded  by  the  public  interest.  On  the  same  ground  he  explained  his 
course  in  reference  to  some  of  the  other  matters  charged  on  him,  and  espe- 
cially in  relation  to  the  sectaries, — too  strong  in  numbers,  he  maintained,  to 
be  openly  resisted.  He  positively  denied  the  connection  imputed  to  him  with 
the  confederates  ;  declaring  that,  far  from  countenancing  the  league,  he  had 
always  lamented  its  existence  and  discouraged  all  within  his  reach  from  join- 
ing it.  In  reply  to  the  charge  of  not  having  dismissed  Backerzeele  after  it 
was  known  that  he  had  joined  the  confederates,  he  excused  himself  by  alleging 
the  good  services  whicn  his  secretary  had  rendered  the  government,  more 
especially  in  repressing  the  disorders  of  the  iconoclasts.  On  the  whole,  his 
answers  seem  to  have  been  given  in  good  faith,  and  convey  the  impression — 
probably  not  far  from  the  truth — of  one  who,  while  he  did  not  approve  of  the 
policy  of  the  crown,  and  thought,  indeed,  some  of  its  measures  impracticable, 
had  no  design  to  overturn  the  government.1' 

The  attorney -general  next  prepared  his  accusation  of  Count  Hoorne,  con- 
sisting of  sixty-three  separate  charges.  They  were  of  much  the  same  import 
with  those  brought  against  Egmont.  The  bold,  impatient  temper  of  the 
admiral  made  him  particularly  open  to  the  assault  of  his  enemies.  He  was 
still  more  peremptory  than  his  friend  in  his  refusal  to  relinquish  his  rights  as 
a  knight  of  the  Golden  Fleece  and  appear  before  the  tribunal  of  Alva.  When 

Srevailed  on  to  waive  his  scruples,  his  defence  was  couched  in  language  so 
irect  and  manly  as  at  once  engages  our  confidence.  "  Unskilled  as  I  am  in 
this  sort  of  business,"  he  remarks,  "  and  without  the  aid  of  counsel  to  guide 
me,  if  I  have  fallen  into  errors  they  must  be  imputed  not  to  intention,  but  to 
the  want  of  experience.  ...  I  can  only  beseech  those  who  shall  read  my 
defence  to  believe  that  it  has  been  made  sincerely  and  in  all  truth,  as  becomes 
a  gentleman  of  honourable  descent. "  " 

By  the  remonstrances  of  the  prisoners  and  their  friends,  the  duke  was  at 
length  prevailed  on  to  allow  them  counsel.  Each  of  the  two  lords  obtained 
the  services  of  five  of  the  most  eminent  jurists  of  the  country, — who,  to  their 
credit,  seem  not  to  have  shrunk  from  a  duty  which,  if  not  attended  with 
actual  danger,  certainly  did  not  lie  in  the  road  to  preferment." 

time  only,  when,  on  the  contrary,  he  had  d'Egmont  (Bruxelles.  1854),  pp.  121-153. 

expressly  stated  that  the  dismissal  was  final,  '7  "  Suppliant  a  tous  ceux  qui  la  verront, 

and  that  he  had  never  seen  the  man  since.  croire  qu'il  a  respondu  a  tous   les  articles. 

Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  i.  p.  40.  Bincerement  et  en   toute  verite  comme  un 

"  Egmont's   defence,  of   which    extracts,  GentUhomme  bien  ne  est  tenn  et  oblige  de 

•wretchedly  garbled,  are  given  by  Foppens,  faire."    Supp'ement  a  ^trada,  torn.  i.  p.  209. 

has  been  printed  in  extern®  hy  M.  de  Bavay,  "  Foppens  has  devoted  n-arly  all  the  first 

in  his  useful  compilation,  Proces  du  Comte  volume  of  bis  "Supplement"  to  pieces  illiw- 


DEFENCE  OF  THE  PRISONERS.  347 

The  counsel  of  the  two  lords  lost  no  time  in  preparing  the  defence  their 
clients,  taking  up  each  charge  brought  against  them  by  the  attorney-genera', 
and  minutely  replying  to  it.  Their  defence  was  substantially  the  same  with 
that  which  had  oeen  set  up  by  the  prisoners  themselves,  though  more  elabo- 
rate and  sustained  by  a  greater  array  both  of  facts  and  arguments.18  Mean- 
while, the  counsel  did  not  remit  their  efforts  to  have  the  causes  brought  before 
the  tribunal  of  the  Toison  d'  Or.  Unless  this  could  be  effected,  they  felt  that 
all  endeavours  to  establish  the  innocence  of  their  clients  would  be  unavailing. 

Alva  had  early  foreseen  the  embarrassments  to  which  he  would  be 
exposed  on  this  ground.  He  had  accordingly  requested  Philip  to  stop  all 
further  solicitations  by  making  known  his  own  decision  in  the  matter.2*  The 
king,  in  reply,  assured  the  duke  that  men  of  authority  and  learning,  to  whom 
the  subject  had  been  committed,  after  a  full  examination,  entirely  confirmed 
the  decision  made  before  Alva's  departure,  that  the  case  of  treason  did  not 
come  within  the  cognizance  of  the  Toison  d'  Or.*1  Letters  patent  accompanied 
this  note,  empowering  the  duke  to  try  the  cause.2*  With  these  credentials 
Alva  now  strove  to  silence,  if  not  to  satisfy,  the  counsel  of  the  prisoners ;  and, 
by  a  formal  decree,  all  further  applications  for  transferring  the  cause  from 
his  own  jurisdiction  to  that  of  the  Golden  Fleece  were  peremptorily  for- 
bidden. 

Yet  all  were  not  to  be  thus  silenced.  Egmont's  countess  still  continued 
unwearied  in  her  efforts  to  excite  a  sympathy  in  her  lord's  behalf  in  all  those 
who  would  be  likely  to  have  any  influence  with  the  government.  Early  in 
1568  she  again  wrote  to  Philip,  complaining  that  she  had  not  been  allowed  so 
much  as  to  see  her  husband.  She  implored  the  king  to  take  her  and  her 
children  as  sureties  for  Egmont  and  permit  him  to  be  removed  to  one  of  his 
own  houses.  If  that  could  not  be,  she  begged  that  he  might  at  least  be 
allowed  the  air  of  the  castle,  lest,  though  innocent,  his  confinement  might 
cost  him  his  life.  She  alludes  to  her  miserable  condition,  with  her  young  and 
helpless  family,  and  trusts  in  the  king's  goodness  and  justice  that  she  shall 
not  be  forced  to  seek  a  subsistence  in  Germany,  from  which  country  she  had 
been  brought  to  Flanders  by  his  father  the  emperor.**  The  letter,  says  a 

strative  of  the  proceedings  apainst  Egmont  amplification,  is  fashioned  on  the  latter.  Pro- 

and  Iloorne.    The  articles  of  accusation  are  cesdu  Comte  d' Egmont,  pp.  153- 223. 

given  at  length.    His  countrymen  are  under  **  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  toin.  1. 

obligations  to  this  compiler,  who  thus  early  p.  582. 

brought  before  them  so  many  documents  of  "  "Quoique,  avant  le  depart  du  due,  il  alt 
great  im|>ortance  to  the  national  history.  The  ete  reconnu,  dans  les  deliberations  qui  ont  eu 
obligation  would  have  been  greater  "  the  lieu  a  Madrid  en  sa  presence,  que  cette  pre- 
editor  had  done  bis  work  in  a  scholar-like  tention  n'etait  pasfondee,  le  Roi,  vu  la  gravit£ 
way, — instead  of  heaping  together  a  confused  de  1'affalre,  a  onion  ne  que  quelques  persoiines 
mass  of  materials,  without  method,  often  d'auturite  et  de  lettres  MJ  reuiiis&ent  de  nou- 
without  dates,  and  with  so  little  care  that  the  veau,  pour  examiner  la  question. — II  corn- 
titles  of  the  document*  are  not  seldom  at  rounique  au  due  les  considerations  qui  ont 
variance  with  the  contents.  ete  approuvees  dans  cette  Junte,  et  qui  con- 
'*  At  least  such  is  the  account  which  flrmenl  ropinionprecedemmeutemlse."  Ibid., 
Fbppens  gives  of  the  "Justification,"  as  it  is  p.  612. 

termed,  of  Hoorne,  of  which  the  Flemish  editor  **  The  letters  patent  were  ante-dated  as  far 
has  printed  only  the  preamble  and  the  conclu-  back  as  April  ISth,  1667,  probably  that  they 
sion,  without  so  much  as  favoring  us  with  the  might  not  appear  to  have  been  gi-t  up  fur  the 
date  of  the  instrument.  (Supplement  a  Strada,  nonce.  Conf.  Ibid.,  p.  52M. 
torn.  1.  pp.  241-243)  M.  de  Bavay.  on  the  "  "J'espere  en  la  bontl.  cle'mence  et  jus- 
other  hand,  has  given  the  defence  set  up  by  tlce  de  Votre  Majeste  qu'icolle  ne  vuu<ira 
Kgmont's  counsel  in  actento.  It  covers  seventy  souffrlr  que  Je  sorte  vos  pays,  avec  mes  onze 
printed  pages,  being  double  the  quantity  enfant*,  pour  alter  bors  d'iceux  chercher 
occupied  by  Kgmont's  defence  of  himself.  Hy  moyen  de  vivre,  ayant  ete  amenee  par  feu  de 
comparing  the  two  together,  it  Is  easy  to  «c«  bonne  rolmoire  I'Empereur,  votre  pere." 
bow  closely  the  former,  though  with  greater  Ibid.,  torn.  II.  p.  6. 


348  TRIALS  OP  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

chronicler  of  the  time,  was  not  to  be  read  by  any  one  without  sincere  com- 
miseration for  the  writer.14 

The  German  princes,  at  the  same  time,  continued  their  intercessions  with 
the  king  for  both  the  nobles ;  and  the  duke  of  Bavaria,  and  the  duke  and 
duchess  of  Lorraine,  earnestly  invoked  his  clemency  in  their  behalf.  Philip, 
wearied  by  this  importunity,  but  not  wavering  in  his  purpose,  again  called  on 
Alva  to  press  the  trial  to  a  conclusion.2* 

Towards  the  end  of  April,  1568,  came  that  irruption  across  the  borders  by 
Hoogstraten  and  the  other  lords,  described  in  the  previous  chapter.  Alva, 
feeling  probably  that  his  own  presence  might  be  required  to  check  the  invaders, 
found  an  additional  motive  for  bringing  the  trials  to  a  decision. 

On  the  sixth  of  May,  the  attorney-general  presented  a  remonstrance  against 
the  dilatory  proceedings  of  Egmonrs  counsel,  declaring  that,  although  so 
many  months  had  elapsed,  they  had  neglected  to  bring  forward  their  witnesses 
in  support  of  their  defence.  He  prayed  that  a  day  might  be  named  for  the 
termination  of  the  process.*6 

In  the  latter  part  of  May,  news  came  of  the  battle  won  by  Louis  of  Nassau 
in  the  north.  That  now  became  certain  which  had  before  been  only  probable, 
— that  Alva  must  repair  in  person  to  the  seat  of  war  and  assume  the  command 
of  the  army.  There  could  be  no  further  delay.  On  the  first  of  June,  a  decree 
was  published,  declaring  that  the  time  allowed  for  the  defence  of  the  prisoners 
had  expired,  and  that  no  evidence  could  henceforth  be  admitted.27  The 
counsel  for  the  accused  loudly  protested  against  a  decision  which  cut  them  off 
from  all  means  of  establishing  the  innocence  of  their  clients.  They  had 
abundant  testimony  at  hand,  they  said,  and  had  only  waited  until  the  govern- 
ment should  have  produced  theirs.  This  was  plausible,  as  it  was  in  the 
regular  course  for  the  prosecuting  party  to  take  precedence.  But  one  can 
hardly  doubt  that  the  wary  lawyers  knew  that  too  little  was  to  be  expected 
from  a  tribunal  like  the  Council  of  Blood  to  wish  to  have  the  case  brought  to 
a  decision.  By  delaying  matters,  some  circumstance  might  occur— perhaps 
some  stronger  expression  of  the  public  sentiment — to  work  a  favourable  change 
in  the  mind  of  the  king.  Poor  as  it  was,  this  was  the  only  chance  for  safety  ; 
and  every  day  that  the  decision  was  postponed  was  a  day  gained  to  their 
clients. 

But  no  time  was  given  for  expostulation.  On  the  day  on  which  Alva's 
decree  was  published,  the  affair  was  submitted  to  the  decision  of  the  Council 
of  Blood ;  and  on  the  following  morning,  the  second  of  June,  that  body — or 
rather  Vargas  and  Del  Rio,  the  only  members  who  had  a  voice  in  the  matter 
— pronounced  both  the  prisoners  guilty  of  treason,  and  doomed  them  to  death. 
The  sentence  was  approved  by  Alva 

On  the  evening  of  the  fourth,  Alva  went  in  person  to  the  meeting  of  the 
council.  The  sentences  of  the  two  lords,  each  under  a  sealed  envelope,  were 
produced,  and  read  aloud  by  the  secretary.  They  were  both  of  precisely  the 

**  "  Haud  facile  sine  commiseratione  legi  a  Philip  the  "  probability  "  of  the   historian 

qnoqnam  potest."    Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  may  seem  somewhat  less  than  probable, 

torn.  i.  p.  387. — According  to  Alva's   bio-  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  11. 

grapher,  Ossorio,  the  appeal  of  the  countess  p.  18. 

would  probably  have  softened  the  heart  of  M  Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  i.  p.  90. 

Philip,  and  inclined  him  to  an   "  ill-timed  "  Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  1.  p.  252.— By 

clemency,"  bad  it  not  been  for  the  remon-  a  decree  passed  on  the  eighteenth  of  May, 

strance  of  Cardinal  Kspinosa,  then  predomi-  Egmont  had  been  already  excluded  from  any 

nant  in  the  cabinet,  who  reminded  the  king  further  right  to  bring  evidence  in  his  defence, 

that  "  clemency  was  a  sin  when  the  outrage  The  documents  connected  with  this  matter 

was  against  religion."    (Albae  Vita,  p.  282.)  are  given  by  Foppens,  Ibid.,  torn.  L  pp.  90- 

To   one   acquainted  with  the  character  of  103. 


THE  PROCESSES  REVIEWED.  349 

same  import.  After  the  usual  preamble,  they  pronounced  the  Counts  Egmont 
and  Hoorne  to  have  been  proved  parties  to  the  abominable  league  and  con- 
spiracy of  the  prince  of  Orange  and  his  associates ;  to  have  given  aid  and 
protection  to  the  confederates ;  and  to  have  committed  sundry  malpractices 
in  their  respective  governments  in  regard  to  the  sectaries,  to  the  prejudice  of 
the  holy  Catholic  faith.  On  these  grounds  they  were  adjudged  guilty  of 
treason'and  rebellion,  and  were  sentenced  accordingly  to  be  beheaded  with  the 
sword,  their  heads  to  be  set  upon  poles  and  there  to  continue  during  the 
pleasure  of  the  duke  ;  their  possessions,  fiefs,  and  rights,  of  every  description, 
to  be  confiscated  to  the  use  of  the  crown.**  These  sentences  were  signed  only 
with  the  name  of  Alva,  and  countersigned  with  that  of  the  Secretary  Pratz.2' 

Such  was  the  result  of  these  famous  trials,  which,  from  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances that  attended  them,  especially  their  extraordinary  duration  and  the 
illustrious  characters  and  rank  of  the  accused,  became  an  object  of  general 
interest  throughout  Europe.  In  reviewing  them,  the  first  question  that 
occurs  is  in  regard  to  the  validity  of  the  grounds  on  which  the  causes  were 
removed  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Toison  d?  Or.  The  decision  of  the  "men 
of  authority  and  learning  "  referred  to  by  the  king  is  of  little  moment,  con- 
sidering the  influences  under  which  such  a  decision  in  the  court  of  Madrid  was 
necessarily  given.  The  only  authority  of  any  weight  in  favour  of  this  inter- 
pretation seems  to  have  been  that  of  the  President  Viglius ;  a  man  well 
versed  in  the  law,  with  the  statutes  of  the  order  before  him,  and,  in  short, 
with  every  facility  at  his  command  for  forming  an  accurate  judgment  in  the 
matter. 

His  opinion  seems  to  have  mainly  rested  on  the  fact  that  in  the  year  1473 
a  knight  of  the  order,  charged  with  a  capital  crime,  submitted  to  be  tried  by 
the  ordinary  courts  of  law.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  some  years  later,  in  1490. 
four  knights  accused  of  treason,  the  precise  crime  alleged  against  Egmont  ana 
Hoorne,  were  arraigned  and  tried  before  the  members  of  the  Toison.  A  more 
conclusive  argument  against  Viglius  was  afforded  by  the  fact  that  in  1531  a 
law  was  passed,  under  the  emperor  Charles  the  Fifth,  that  no  knight  of  the 
Golden  Fleece  could  be  arrested  or  tried,  for  any  offence  whatever,  by  any 
other  body  than  the  members  of  his  own  order.  This  statute  was  solemnly 
confirmed  by  Philip  himself  in  1550 ;  and  no  law,  surely,  could  be  devised 
covering  more  effectually  the  whole  ground  in  question.  Yet  Viglius  had  the 
effrontery  to  set  this  aside  as  of  no  force,  being  so  clearly  in  contempt  of  all 
precedents  and  statutes.  A  subterfuge  like  this,  which  might  justify  the 
disregard  of  any  law  whatever,  found  no  favour  with  the  members  of  the 
order.  Aerschot  and  Barlaimont,  in  particular,  the  most  devoted  adherents 
of  the  crown,  and  among  the  few  knights  of  the  Toison  then  in  Brussels, 
openly  expressed  their  dissent  The  authority  of  a  jurist  like  Viglius  was  of 
great  moment,  however,  to  the  duke,  who  did  not  fail  to  parade  it**  But 
sorely  was  it  to  the  disgrace  of  that  timid  and  time-serving  councillor  that  he 

*•  Among  the  documents  analyzed  by  Oa-  income  exceeding  31,000  florin*.    William's 

chard  is  one  exhibiting  the  revenues  of  the  revenues,  far  greater  than  either,  rose  above 

great    lords   of   the    Low  Countries   whose  i.v.vu  o.  Correspondence  de  Philippe  II., torn. 

estate*  were  conftucat'-d.     No  one  except  the  II.  p.  116. 

jirinc  •  of  Orange  had  an  Income  nearly  so  '  Supplement  A  Strada,  torn.  i.  pp.  252- 

greHt  as  that  of  Egmont,  amounting  to  63,000  257. 

florins.      He  had  a  palace  at  Brussels,  and  *°  In  a  letter  dated  January  6th,  1B8S,  Alva 

other  residences  at  .Mechlin,  Ghent,  Bruges,  tells  the  king  that  Viglius,  after  examining 

Arras,   and  the    Hague.      The  revenues  of  into  the  affair,  finds  the  evidence  so  clear  on 

Count  Hoorne  amounted  to  about  HSOn  florins.  the  point  that  nothing  more  could  be  desired. 

Count  Culemborg.  whooe  hotel  was  the  place  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii.  p.  4. 
of  reudexvoua  for  the  Oueux,  had  a  yearly 


350  TRIALS  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

could  thus  lend  himself,  and  in  such  a  cause,  to  become  the  tool  of  arbitrary 
power.  It  may  well  lead  us  to  give  easier  faith  than  we  should  otherwise  have 
done  to  those  charges  of  peculation  and  meanness  which  the  regent,  in  the 
heat  of  party  dissensions,  so  liberally  heaped  on  him.*1 

But,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  rights  possessed  by  the  Toison  (P  Or 
in  this  matter,  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  illegality  of  the  court  before 
which  the  cause  was  brought, — a  court  which  had  no  warrant  for  its  existence 
but  the  will  of  AJva  ;  where  the  judges,  contrary  to  the  law  of  the  land,  were 
foreigners ;  where  the  presiding  officer  was  not  even  necessarily  present  at  the 
trial  of  the  causes  on  which  he  alone  was  to  pass  sentence. 

If  so  little  regard  was  paid  to  the  law  in  the  composition  of  this  tribunal, 
scarcely  more  was  shown  to  it  in  the  forms  of  proceeding.  On  the  present 
occasion  it  does  not  appear  that  any  evidence  was  brought  forward  by  the 
prisoners.  And  as  we  are  in  possession  of  only  a  small  part  of  that  which  sus- 
tained the  prosecution,  it  is  not  easy  to  form  an  opinion  how  far  the  parties  were 
or  were  not  guilty  of  the  crime  imputed  to  them, — still  less  whether  that  crime, 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  land,  amounted  to  treason.32  The  gravest  charge 
made,  with  any  apparent  foundation,  was  that  of  a  secret  understanding  with 
the  confederates.  The  avowed  object  of  the  confederates  was,  in  certain  con- 
tingencies, to  resist  the  execution  of  a  particular  ordinance,31  but  without  any 
design  to  overturn  the  government.  This,  by  our  law,  could  hardly  be  con- 
strued into  treason.  But  in  the  Netherlands,  in  the  time  of  the  Spanish 
rule,  the  law  may  have  been  more  comprehensive  in  its  import ;  nor  is  it  likely 
that  the  word  "  treason  "  was  limited  in  so  explicit  a  manner  as  by  the  English 
statute-book  under  the  Plantagenets.*4 

We  have  information  of  a  curious  document  of  the  time,  that  may  throw 
light  on  the  matter.  Peter  d'Arset,  president  of  Artois,  was  one  of  the 
original  members  of  the  Council  of  Troubles,  but  had  retired  from  office  before 
the  trial  of  the  two  lords.  It  may  have  been  from  the  high  judicial  station 
he  held  in  one  of  Egmont's  provinces,  that  he  was  consulted  in  regard  to  that 
nobleman's  process.  After  an  examination  of  the  papers,  he  returned  an 
answer,  written  in  Latin,  at  great  length,  and  with  a  purity  of  style  that 

31  For  the  facts  connected  with  the  consti-  Bavay's  work  is  one  of  the  good  fruits  of  that 
tution  of  (he  Tbison  d'  Or,  1  am  indebted  to  a  patriotic  zeal  which  animates  the  Hrlpian 
Dutch  work  now  in  course  of  publication  in  scholars  of  our  time  for  the  illustration  of  their 
Amsterdam  (Algemeene  Geschiedenisdes  Va-  national  history.  It  was  given  to  the  public 
derlands,  van  de  vroegste  tijden  tot  op  heden,  only  the  last  year,  aft<r  the  present  chapter 
door  Dr.  J.  P.  Arend).  This  work,  which  is  had  been  written.  In  addition  to  what  is  con- 
designed  to  cover  the  whole  history  of  the  tained  in  former  publications,  it  furnishes  us 
Netherlands,  may  claim  the  merits  of  a  with  complete  copies  of  the  defence  of  Egmont, 
thoroughness  rare  in  this  age  of  rapid  book-  as  prepared  both  by  himself  and  his  counsel, 
making,  and  of  a  candour  rare  in  any  age.  In  and  with  the  affidavits  above  noticed  of  wit- 
my  own  ignorance  of  the  Dutch,  I  must  nesses  on  the  part  of  the  government.  It  has 
acknowledge  my  obligations  to  a  friend  for  supplied  me,  therefore,  with  valuable  mate- 
enabling  me  to  read  it.  I  must  further  add  rials,  whether  for  the  correction  or  the  corrobo- 
that  for  the  loan  of  the  work  I  am  indebted  to  ration  of  my  previous  conclusions, 
the  courtesy  of  B.  Homer  Dixon,  Esq.,  Consul  "  Tlie  resistance  to  which  those  who  signed 
for  the  Netherlands  in  Boston.  the  Compromise  were  pledged  was  to  the 

*"  M.  de  lUvay  has  devoted  seventy  pag"8  Inquisition,  in  case  of  its  attempt  to  arrest 

or  more  of  his  publication  to  affidavits  of  wit-  any  member  of  their  body.    Ante,  p.  236. 
nesses  in  behalf  of  the  prosecution.    (Proces  "  By  the  famous  statute,  in  particular,  of 

du  Comte  d'Egmont,  pp.  267-322.)    But  their  Edward  the  Third,  the  basis  of  all  subsequent 

testimony  bears  almost  exclusively  on  the  legislation  on  the  subject.    Some  reflections, 

subject  of  Egmont's  dealings  with  the  secta-  both  on  this  law  and  the  laws  which  sub- 

ries, — scarcely  warranting  the  Flemish  editor's  sequ^ntly  modified  it,  made  with  the  usual 

n-sertion  in  his  preface,  that  ho  has  been  able  acuteness  of  their  author,  may  be  found  in  the 

to  furnish  "all  the  elements  of  the  conviction  fifteenth  chapter  of  llallaui's  Constitutional 

of  the  accused  by  the  duke  of  Alva." — M.  de  History  of  England. 


THE  COUNTS  REMOVED  TO  BRUSSELS.  351 

shows  him  to  have  been  a  scholar.  In  this,  he  goes  over  the  whole  ground  of 
the  accusation,  article  by  article,  showing  the  insufficiency  of  proof  on  every 
charge,  and  by  argument  and  legal  reference  fully  establishing  the  innocence 
of  the  accused.  The  presidents  opinion,  so  independently  given,  we  may 
readily  believe,  found  too  little  favour  with  the  duke  of  Alva  to  be  cited  as 
authority.** 

But  even  though  it  were  true  that  the  two  lords,  in  that  season  of  public 
excitement,  had  been  seduced  from  their  allegiance  for  a  time,  some  cnarity 
might  have  been  shown  to  men  who  had  subsequently  broken  with  their 
former  friends  and  displayed  the  utmost  zeal  in  carrying  out  the  measures  of 
the  government ;  a  zeal  in  the  case  of  Egmont,  at  least,  which  drew  from  the 
regent  unqualified  commendation.*6  Something  more  might  have  been  con- 
ceded to  the  man  who  had  won  for  his  sovereign  the  most  glorious  trophies  of 
his  reign.  But  Philip's  nature,  unhappily,  as  I  have  had  occasion  to  notice, 
was  of  that  sort  which  is  more  sensible  to  injuries  than  to  benefits. 

Under  the  circumstances  attending  this  trial,  it  may  seem  to  have  been  a 
waste  of  time  to  inquire  into  the  legality  of  the  court  which  tried  the  cause, 
or  the  regularity  of  the  forms  of  procedure.  The  real  trial  took  place,  not  in 
Flanders,  but  in  Castile.  Who  can  doubt  that,  long  before  the  duke  of  Alva 
began  his  march,  the  doom  of  the  two  nobles  had  been  pronounced  in  the 
cabinet  of  Madrid  ?  *' 


CHAPTER  V. 

EXECUTION  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

The  Counts  removed  to  Brussels — Informed  of  the  Sentence— Procession  to  the  Scaffold — The 
Execution — Character  of  Egmont — Fate  of  his  Family — Sentiment  of  the  People. 

1668. 

ON  the  second  of  June,  1568,  a  body  of  three  .housand  men  was  ordered  to 
Ghent  to  escort  the  Counts  Egmont  and  Hoorne  to  Brussels.  No  resistarue 
was  offered,  although  the  presence  of  the  Spaniards  caused  a  great  sensation 
among  the  inhabitants  of  the  place,  who  too  well  foreboded  the  fate  of  their 
beloved  lord. 
The  nobles,  each  accompanied  by  two  officers,  were  put  into  separate 

'*  The  original  document  is  to  be  found  in  235. 

the  archives  of  Brusselx,  or  was  In  the  time  of  •"  M.  de  Gerlache.  In  a  long  note  to  the 
Vandervynckt,  who,  having  examined  it  care-  second  edition  of  bis  history,  enters  into  a 
fully,  (fives  a  brief  notice  of  It.  (Troubles  ccrutiny  of  Egruont's  conduct  as  severe  as 
des  Pays-Bas,  torn.  ii.  pp.  256,  257.)  The  that  by  the  attorney-general  himself, — and 
name  of  its  author  should  be  cherished  by  the  with  much  ihe  name  result.  (Hist,  du  Hoy- 
historian,  as  that  of  a  magistrate  who,  in  aume  des  Pays- Bas,  torn.  I.  pp  99-101.)  "Can 
the  face  of  a  tyrannical  government,  had  the  any  one  believe,"  he  asks,  "that  if,  inxtead  of 
courage  to  enter  bis  protest  against  the  judicial  having  the  'Demon  of  the  South'  for  his 
murders  perpetrated  under  its  sanction.  master.  It  had  been  Charles  the  Fifth  or  NnjH>- 

**  Among  other  pnssages,  see  one  in  a  letter  Iron,   Egmont  would  have   been  allowed  to 

of  Margaret  to  the  king,  dated  March  23rd,  play  the  part  be  did  with  impunity  so  long?" 

1567  :  "Ceulx  de  son  conseil  Icy,  qui  Vein-  Thifl  kind  of  Socratic  argument,  as  far  a*  it 

ployent  tout  fidelement  et  dil'gemment  en  go<*,  proves  only  that  Philip  did  no  worse  than 

son  service,  et  entre  anltrts  le  comtc  d'Kgmonl  Charles  or  Nap  1-on  would  have  done.     It  by 

riontjene  puts  avoir  synon  ton  contentement."  no  im-aiix  proves  Egmont  to  have  deserved  his 

Correspondance  de  Marguerite  d'Aulricbe,  p.  sentence. 


352  EXECUTION  OF  EQMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

chariots.  They  were  guarded  by  twenty  companies  of  pikemen  and  arque- 
busiers  ;  and  a  detachment  of  lancers,  among  whom  was  a  body  of  the  duke's 
own  horse,  rode  in  the  van,  while  another  of  equal  strength  protected  the  rear. 
Under  this  strong  escort  they  moved  slowly  towards  Brussels.  One  night 
they  halted  at  Dendermonde,  and  towards  evening,  on  the  fourth  of  the 
month,  entered  the  capital.1  As  the  martial  array  defiled  through  its  streets, 
there  was  no  one,  however  stout-hearted  he  might  be,  says  an  eye-witness, 
•who  could  behold  the  funeral  pomp  of  the  procession,  and  listen  to  the 
strains  of  melancholy  music,  without  a  feeling  of  sickness  at  his  heart.* 

The  prisoners  were  at  once  conducted  to  the  flrodhuys,  or  "  Bread-house," 
usually  known  as  the  Maison  du  Eoi, — that  venerable  pile  in  the  market- 
place of  Brussels,  still  visited  by  every  traveller  for  its  curious  architecture, 
and  yet  more  as  the  last  resting-place  of  the  Flemish  lords.  Here  they  were 
lodged  in  separate  rooms,  small,  dark,  and  uncomfortable,  and  scantily  pro- 
vided with  furniture.  Nearly  the  whole  of  the  force  which  had  escorted  them 
to  Brussels  was  established  in  the  great  square,  to  defeat  any  attempt  at  a 
rescue.  But  none  was  made  ;  and  the  night  passed  away  without  disturbance, 
except  what  was  occasioned  by  the  sound  of  busy  workmen  employed  in  con- 
structing a  scaffold  for  the  scene  of  execution  on  the  following  day.* 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth,  the  duke  of  Alva  had  sent  for  Martin 
Rithovius,  bishop  of  Ypres ;  and,  communicating  to  him  the  sentence  of  the 
nobles,  he  requested  the  prelate  to  visit  the  prisoners,  acquaint  them  with 
their  fate,  and  prepare  them  for  their  execution  on  the  following  day.  The 
bishop,  an  excellent  man,  and  the  personal  friend  of  Egmont,  was  astounded 
by  the  tidings.  He  threw  himself  at  Alva's  feet,  imploring  mercy  for  the 
prisoners,  and,  if  he  could  not  spare  their  lives,  beseeching  nim  at  least  to 
grant  them  more  time  for  preparation.  But  Alva  sternly  rebuked  the  pre- 
late, saying  that  he  had  been  summoned,  not  to  thwart  the  execution  of  the 
law,  but  to  console  the  prisoners  and  enable  them  to  die  like  Christians.4  The 
bishop,  finding  his  entreaties  useless,  rose  and  addressed  himself  to  his  melan- 
choly mission. 

It  was  near  midnight  when  he  entered  Egmont's  apartment,  where  he 
found  the  poor  nobleman,  whose  strength  had  been  already  reduced  by  con- 
finement, and  who  was  wearied  by  the  fatigue  of  the  journey,  buried  in 
slumber.  It  is  said  that  the  two  lords,  when  summoned  to  Brussels,  had 
indulged  the  vain  hope  that  it  was  to  inform  them  of  the  conclusion  of  their 
trial  and  their  acquittal !  *  However  this  may  be,  Egmont  seems  to  have 
been  but  ill  prepared  for  the  dreadful  tidings  he  received.  He  turned  deadly 
pale  as  he  listened  to  the  bishop,  and  exclaimed,  with  deep  emotion,  "  It  is  a 
terrible  sentence.  Little  did  I  imagine  that  any  offence  I  had  committed 
against  God  or  the  king  could  merit  such  a  punishment  It  is  not  death  that 
I  fear.  Death  is  the  common  lot  of  all.  But  I  shrink  from  dishonour.  Yet 
I  may  hope  that  my  sufferings  will  so  far  expiate  my  offences  that  my  inno- 

1  Relacion  de  la  Justicia  que  se  hizo  de  los  mont  y  Orne,  MS. 

Cerates  Agatnont  y  Orne,  MS.  *  "Sur  quoy  le  Due  lui  repondit  fort  vive- 

*  "  Marcbarent'dans  la  ville  en  bataille,  et  ment  et  avec  une  espece  de  colere,  qu'il  no 
avecques  une  batterie  de  tambourine  et  de  1'avoit  pas  fait  venir  a  Bruss^lle  pour  mettre 
phiffres  si  pitieuse  .qu'il  n'y  avoit  spectateur  quelque  empechement  a  1'execution  de  leur 
de  si  bon  coeur  qui  ne  palist  et  ne  pleurast  sentence,  mais  bien  pour  les  consoler  et  les 
d'une  si  triste  pompe  funebre."    Mondouci  t,  assister  a  mourfr  chretiennement."    Snpple- 
ap.  Brantume,  CEuvres,  torn.  i.  p.  363.  ment  a  Strada,  torn.  i.  p.  259. 

*  De  Thou,  Histoire  umverselle,  torn.  v.  p.  l  "  Venian  en  alguna  manera  contentos  de 
460.— Guerrf-s  civiles  du  Pays-Bas,  p.  172.—  pensar  que  sus  causas  anda>>an  al  cabo,  y  que 
Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Bas,  fol.  57. — Relacion  ha vian  de  salir  presto  y  bien  despacbados  este 
de  la  Justicia  que  se  hizo  de  los  Contes  Aga-  dia."    Relacion  de  la  Justicia,  MS. 


INFORMED  OF  THE  SENTENCE.  353 

cent  family  will  not  be  involved  in  my  ruin  by  the  confiscation  of  my  property. 
Thus  much,  at  least,  I  think  I  may  claim  in  consideration  of  my  past  ser- 
vices." Then,  after  a  pause,  he  added,  "  Since  my  death  is  the  will  of  God 
and  his  majesty,  I  will  try  to  meet  it  with  patience." '  He  asked  the  bishop 
if  there  were  no  hope.  On  being  answered,  "None  whatever,"  he  resolved  to 
devote  himself  at  once  to  preparing  for  the  solemn  change. 

He  rose  from  his  couch,  and  hastily  dressed  himself.  He  then  made  his 
confession  to  the  prelate,  and  desired  that  mass  might  be  said,  and  the  sacra- 
ment administered  to  him.  This  was  done  with  great  solemnity,  and  Egraont 
received  the  communion  in  the  most  devout  manner,  manifesting  the  greatest 
contrition  for  his  sins.  He  next  inquired  of  the  bishop  to  what  prayer  he 
could  best  have  recourse  to  sustain  him  in  this  trying  hour.  The  prelate 
recommended  to  him  that  prayer  which  our  Saviour  had  commended  to  his 
disciples.  The  advice  pleased  the  count,  who  earnestly  engaged  in  his  devo- 
t'ons.  But  a  host  of  tender  recollections  crowded  on  his  mind,  and  the  images 
of  his  wife  and  children  drew  his  thoughts  in  another  direction,  till  the  kind 
expostulations  of  the  prelate  again  restored  him  to  himself. 

Egmont  asked  whether  it  would  be  well  to  say  anything  on  the  scaffold  for 
the  edification  of  the  people.  But  the  bishop  discouraged  him,  saying  that 
he  would  be  imperfectly  heard,  and  that  the  people,  in  their  present  excite- 
ment, would  be  apt  to  misinterpret  what  he  said  to  their  own  prejudice. 

Having  attended  to  his  spiritual  concerns,  Egmont  called  for  writing  mate- 
rials, and  wrote  a  letter  to  his  wife,  whom  he  had  not  seen  during  his  long 
confinement ;  and  to  her  he  now  bade  a  tender  farewell.  He  then  addressed 
another  letter,  written  in  French,  in  a  few  brief  and  touching  sentences,  to 
the  king, — which  fortunately  has  been  preserved  to  us.  "  This  morning,"  he 
says,  "  I  have  been  made  acquainted  with  the  sentence  which  it  has  pleased 
your  majesty  to  pa*s  upon  me.  And  although  it  has  never  been  my  intent  to 
do  aught  against  the  person  or  the  service  of  your  majesty,  or  against  our 
true,  ancient,  and  Catholic  faith,  yet  I  receive  in  patience  what  it  has  pleased 
God  to  send  me.T  If  during  these  troubles  I  have  counselled  or  permitted 
aught  which  might  seem  otherwise,  I  have  done  so  from  a  sincere  regard  for 
the  service  of  God  and  your  majesty,  and  from  what  I  believed  the  necessity 
of  the  times.  Wherefore  I  pray  your  majesty  to  pardon  it,  and  for  the  sake 
of  my  past  services  to  take  pity  on  my  poor  wife,  my  children,  and  my  ser- 
vants. In  this  trust,  I  commend  myself  to  the  mercy  of  God."  The  letter  is 
dated  Brussels,  "  on  the  point  of  death,"  June  5th,  1568.* 

Having  time  still  left,  the  count  made  a  fair  copy  of  the  two  letters,  and 
pave  them  to  the  bishop,  entreating  him  to  deliver  them  according  to  their 
destination.  He  accompanied  that  to  Philip  with  a  ring,  to  be  given  at  the 

•  "  Volcy  line  Sentence  Wen  rigmireuse,  Jo  tOnie,  CEuvres,  torn.  i.  p.  36-1. 

TIP  pense  pas  d'avoir  taut  offence  Sa  Majrste,  "  "  Et  combien  que  J.imais  mon  intention 

pour  merller  an  U-l  ti  aittement ;  neanmoins  n'ait  este  de  riens  traicUT,  ni  faire  cuntre  1* 

je  IP  prens  en  patience  et  prle  le  Seigneur,  que  Personne,  ni  le  §ervice  de  Vostre  Majeirte,  ne 

ma  niort  soit  une  expiation  de  mes  pechos,  et  contre.  nostre  vraye,  anclenne,  et  catboticque 

i|'i"  par  la.  ma  chere  Femtne  et  men  tnfans  Religion,  ni  est-oe  que  je  prens  en  patience,  ce 

n'pnconr'  nt    anrun    blame,   ny  confiscation.  qu'il  plaint  a  mon  bun  liicu  <l  •  m'envoyer." 

Car  mes  services  passez  moritent  bien  nn'on  Supplement  u  Stradv  torn.  I.  p.  2«1. 

me  fame  cttlr  grace.     Puis  qn'il  plait  i  I)ieu  •  "  F'arquoy,  Je  prie  a  Vostre  Majente  me  le 

et  au  Roy,  j'accepte  la  mort  avec  patience."  pardonner,  et  avoi   pitle  de  ma  panvre  femme. 

Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  i.  p.  259. — Them  rnfans  et  servlteurs,  vous  souvenant  de  uio* 

remarks  of  Efrmont  are  also  given,  with  very  services  pasm-i.     Et  siir  cost  espolr  m'en  vuls 

ll'tle  discrepancy,  bv  Meteren,  Hi«t.  '!••*  I'ays-  me  it-commander  a  In miserionrde d  •  I >i>  u.    I >e 

lias.  fol.  56;  In  the  RelaciondeU  Jiistlciaque  Bruxelles  prest  a  mourir,  reS  de  Julng  156s." 

»•  hizo  de  lo«  Contes  Agamont  y  Orn< ,  MS. ;  Supplement  i  Strada,  ubi  supra, 
and  in  the.  relation  of  Mondoucvt,  ap.  liran- 

2  A 


354  EXECUTION  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

same  time  to  the  monarch.9  It  was  of  great  value,  and,  as  it  had  been  the 
gift  of  Philip  himself  during  the  count's  late  visit  to  Madrid,  it  might  soften 
the  heart  of  the  king  hy  reminding  him  of  happier  days,  when  he  had  looked 
with  an  eye  of  favour  on  his  unhappy  vassal. 

Having  completed  all  his  arrangements,  Egmont  became  impatient  for  the 
hour  of  his  departure ;  and  he  expressed  the  hope  that  there  would  be  no 
nnnecessaiy  delay."  At  ten  in.  the  morning  the  soldiers  appeared  who  were 
to  conduct  him  to  the  scaffold.  They  brought  with  them  cords,  as  usual,  to 
bind  the  prisoner's  hands.  But  Egmont  remonstrated,  and  showed  that  he 
had,  himself,  cut  off  the  collar  of  his  doublet  and  shirt,  in  order  to  facilitate 
the  stroke  of  the  executioner.  This  he  did  to  convince  them  that  he  medi- 
tated no  resistance  ;  and  on  his  promising  that  he  would  attempt  none,  they 
consented  to  his  remaining  with  nis  hands  unbound. 

Egmont  was  dressed  in  a  crimson  damask  robe,  over  which  was  a  Spanish 
mantle  fringed  with  gold.  His  breeches  were  of  black  silk,  and  his  hat,  of 
the  same  material,  was  garnished  with  white  and  sable  plumes.11  In  his 
hand,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  remained  free,  he  held  a  white  handkerchief. 
On  his  way  to  the  place  of  execution  he  was  accompanied  by  Julian  de  Romero, 
m  litre  de  camp,  by  the  captain,  Salinas,  who  had  charge  of  the  fortress  of 
Ghent,  and  by  the  bishop  of  Ypres.  As  the  procession  moved  slowly  forward, 
the  count  repeated  some  portion  of  the  fifty-first  Psalm, — "  Have  mercy  on 
me,  0  God  !  —  in  which  the  good  prelate  joined  with  him.  In  the  centre  of 
the  square,  on  the  spot  where  so  much  of  the  best  blood  of  the  Netherlands 
has  been  shed,  stood  the  scaffold,  covered  with  black  cloth.  On  it  were  two 
velvet  cushions  with  a  small  table,  shrouded  likewise  in  black,  and  supporting 
a  silver  crucifix.  At  the  corners  of  the  platform  were  two  poles,  pointed  at 
the  end  with  steel,  intimating  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  intended.14 

In  front  of  the  scaffold  was  the  provost  of  the  court,  mounted  on  horseback, 
and  bearing  the  red  wand  of  office  in  his  hand.13  The  executioner  remained, 
as  usual,  below  the  platform,  screened  from  view,  that  he  might  not,  by  his 
presence  before  it  was  necessary,  outrage  the  feelings  of  the  prisoners.14  The 

»  ••  Kt  luy  donna  une  bajrue  fort  ricbe  que  Not  long  after  this  be  was  sentenced  to  the 

le  roy  d'Espaigne  luy  avoit  donne  lore  qu'il  fut  gallows  by  the  duke,  to  the  great  satisfaction 

en  Espaigne,  en  signe  d'amitie,  pour  la  luy  of  the  people,  as  Strada  tells  us,  for  the  mani- 

envoyer  et  faire  tenir."    Brantome,  (Euvres,  fold  crimes   he  had  committed.     De  Bello 

torn.  i.  p.  361.  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  387. 

10  •'  En  apres,  le  comte  d'AIgnemont  com-  "  The  executioner  was  said  to  have  been 
menca  a  soliciter  fort  1'advancement  de  sa  formerly  one  of  Egmont's  servants  :  "  El  ver- 
mort.disant  quepuis qu'il  devoit mourir qu'on  dugo,  que  hasta  aquel  tiempo  no  se  bavia 
ne  le  devoit  tenir  si  longuement  en  ce  travail."  dejado  ver,  por  que  en  la  forma  d-  morir  se  le 
Mondoucet,  Ibid.,  p.  366.  tuvo  este  respeto.bizo  su  oficio  con  gran  pres- 

11  "11  estoit  vestu  d'une  Juppe*  de  damas  teza,  al  qual  havia  hecho  dar  aquel  maldito 
cramoisy,  et  d'un  manteau  noir  avec  du  pas-  oficio  el  dicho  Conde,  y  dicen  aver  sido  lacayo 
sement  d'or,  les  chausses  de  taffetas  noir  et  le  suyo."     Relacion  de  la  Justicia,  MS. — This 
bus  de  chamois  bronze,  son  chapeau  de  taffetas  re/octon  forms  part  of  a  curious  compilation 
noir  convert    de  force   plumes   blanches  et  in  JIS.,  entitled  "Cartas  y  Papeles  varios,"  in 
noires."     Ibid.,  ubl  supra.  the  British  Museum.    The  compiler  is  suj>- 

'*  Ossorio,   Alb*   Vita.   p.   287.  —  Guerres  posed  to  have  been  Pedro  de  Gante.  secretary 

civiles  du  Pays-Bas,  p.  177. — Relacion  de  la  of  the  duke  of  Najera,  who  amused  himself 

J  usticia,  MS.  with  transcribing  various  cm  iou*  •'  relations  " 

13  This  personage,  whose  name  was  Spel,  of  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth  and  1'bilipthe 

met  with  no  better  fate  than  that  of  the  vie-  Second. 
Urns  whose  execution  he  now  superintended. 


*  [The  "  Juppe  "  (jtiport,  giubbone,  doublet)  was.  however,  the  costume  of  the  Toitnrt  <f  Or, 

WAS  a  light-fitting  garment,  suitably  covered  which,  with  the  collar,  Egmont  is  stated  hy 

with  a  mantle  or  other  outer  garment  when  some  writers  to  have  worn  on  the  scaffold, 

th«  wearer  went  abroad.      A  i  rimron  robe  removing  them  before  his  decapitation. — ED.] 


PROCESSION  TO  THE  SCAFFOLD.  355 

troops,  who  had  been  under  arms  all  night,  were  drawn  up  around  in  order  of 
battle  ;  and  strong  bodies  of  arquebusiers  were  posted  in  the  great  avenues 
which  led  to  the  square.  The  space  left  open  t>y  the  soldiery  was  speedily 
occupied  by  a  crowd  of  eager  spectators.  Others  thronged  the  roofs  and 
windows  of  the  buildings  that  surrounded  the  market-place,  some  of  which, 
still  standing  at  the  present  day,  show,  by  their  quaint  and  venerable  archi- 
tecture, that  they  must  have  looked  down  on  the  tragic  scene  we  are  now 
depicting. 

It  was  indeed  a  gloomy  day  for  Brussels, — so  long  the  residence  of  the  two 
nobles,  where  their  forms  were  as  familiar  and  where  they  were  held  jn  as 
much  love  and  honour  as  in  any  of  their  own  provinces.  All  business  was 
suspended.  The  shops  were  closed.  The  bells  tolled  in  all  the  churches.  An 
air  of  gloom,  as  of  some  impending  calamity,  settled  on  the  city.  "  It  seemed," 
says  one  residing  there  at  the  time,  "as  if  the  day  of  judgment  were  at 
hand ! "  «• 

As  the  procession  slowly  passed  through  the  ranks  of  the  soldiers.  Egmont 
saluted  the  officers — some  of  them  his  ancient  companions — witn  such  a 
sweet  and 'dignified  composure  in  his  manner  as  was  long  remembered  by 
those  who  saw  it.  And  few  even  of  the  Spaniards  could  refrain  from  tears  as 
they  took  their  last  look  at  the  gallant  noble  who  was  to  perish  by  so  miserable 
an  end.1* 

With  a  steady  step  he  mounted  the  scaffold,  and,  as  he  crossed  it,  gave 
utterance  to  the  vain  wish  that,  instead  of  meeting  such  a  fate,  he  had  been 
allowed  to  die  in  the  service  of  his  king  and  country.17  He  quickly,  however, 
turned  to  other  thoughts,  and,  kneeling  on  one  of  the  cushions,  with  the  bishop 
beside  him  on  the  other,  he  was  soon  engaged  earnestly  in  prayer.  With  his 
eyes  raised  towards  heaven  with  a  look  of  unutterable  sadness,"  he  prayed  so 
fervently  and  loud  as  to  be  distinctly  heard  by  the  spectators.  The  prelate, 
much  affected,  put  into  his  hands  the  silver  crucifix,  which  Egmont  repeatedly 
kissed  ;  after  which,  having  received  absolution  for  the  last  time,  he  rose  and 
made  a  sign  to  the  bishop  to  retire.  He  then  stripped  off  his  mantle  and 
robe  ;  and,  again  kneeling,  he  drew  a  silk  cap,  which  he  had  brought  for  the 
purpose,  over  his  eyes,  and,  repeating  the  words,  "  Into  thy  hands,  0  Lord,  I 
commend  my  sj  irit,"  he  calmly  awaited  the  stroke  of  the  executioner. 

The  low  sounds  of  lamentation  which  from  time  to  time  had  been  heard 
among  the  populace  were  now  hushed  into  silence,"  as  the  minister  of  justice, 
appearing  on  the  platform,  approached  his  victim  and  with  a  single  blow  of 
the  sword  severed  the  head  from  the  body.  A  cry  of  horror  rose  from  the 
multitude,  and  some,  frantic  with  grief,  broke  through  the  ranks  of  the 
soldiers  and  wildly  dipped  their  handkerchiefs  in  the  blood  that  streamed  from 
the  .scaffold,  treasuring  them  tip,  says  the  chronicler,  as  precious  memorials  of 
love  and  incitements  to  vengeance."  The  head  was  then  set  on  one  of  the 

13  "  Tcxla*  las  botican  SB  cerraron,  y  d<>hla-  cio  con  nn  crmblante  tan  dnlon-ao.  como  se 

ron  ]ior  files  todo  el  dla  Ian  canipanu*  de  las  pupde  fx-nxar  le  tmia  en  aquel  transilo  un 

Ycleoiax,  quo  no  parecia  otra  com  ni  no  dla  de  bomhre  Un  diccreto."    Kclacion  de  la  J  u.-ti- 

JM.  in."     Kelaciun  de  la  Juoticla.  MS.  dm  MS. 

'•  "Le»quelz  pleurol«-nt  et  rcgrettoient  de  '•  "En  gran  sllendo,  con  notable  laotlma, 

volr  un   KI    grand  capttaine  mourir  nin«i  "  fin  que  por  un  burn  enpacio  *<•  Mntirse  rumor 

Mundoucrt,  ap.  HrantCme,  (Euvres,  torn.  i.  p.  ninguno."    Kelacion  de  la  Ju-tiriu,  MS. 

267.  "  "Kuere,  qui  linteola.  contrnipto  perirttlo, 

•'  "II  »e  pourmena  quelqne  pen,  aoulmy-  Egrnoirtii  cruore  consperMTlnt,  cerv..verint- 

t.-int  de  pouvolr  tinir  m  vie  au  service  de  xon  quo,  seu  inonumvntuni  amorK  *eu  vindicUe 

I'rinrc  ct  du  pals."    Meteren,  Hist,  dcs  Pays-  irritanientum."      btrada,   DC   Dello    L'elgieo, 

1U-,  fol.  58.  torn.  1.  p.  394. 

'•  "  Al/6  Ion  ojos  al  cleto  por  un  poco  e«pa- 


356  EXECUTION  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

poles  at  the  end  of  the  platform,  while  a  mantle  thrown  over  the  mutilated 
trunk  hid  it  from  the  public  gaze.21 

It  was  near  noon  when  orders  were  sent  to  lead  forth  the  remaining  prisoner 
to  execution.  It  had  been  assigned  to  the  curate  of  La  Chapelle  to  acquaint 
Count  Hoorne  with  his  fate.  That  nobleman  received  the  awful  tidings  with 
less  patience  than  was  shown  by  his  friend.  He  gave  way  to  a  burst  of  indig- 
nation at  the  cruelty  and  injustice  of  the  sentence.  It  was  a  poor  requital,  he 
said,  for  eight-and-twenty  years  of  faithful  service  to  his  sovereign.  Yet,  he 
added,  he  was  not  sorry  to  be  released  from  a  life  of  such  incessant  fatigue." 
For  some  time  he  refused  to  confess,  saying  he  had  done  enough  in  the  way 
of  confession.23  When  urged  not  to  throw  away  the  few  precious  moments 
that  were  left  to  him,  he  at  length  consented.  . 

The  count  was  dressed  in  a  plain  suit  of  black,  and  wore  a  Milanese  cap 
upon  his  head.  He  was,  at  this  time,  about  fifty  years  of  age.  He  was  tall, 
with  handsome  features,  and  altogether  of  a  commanding  presence.24  His 
form  was  erect,  and  as  he  passed  with  a  steady  step  through  the  files  of 
soldiers,  on  his  way  to  the  place  of  execution,  he 'frankly  saluted  tho:  e  of  his 
acquaintance  whom  he  saw  among  the  spectators.  His  look  had  in  it  less  of 
sorrow  than  of  indignation,  like  that  of  one  conscious  of  enduring  wrong.  He 
was  spared  one  pang,  in  his  last  hour,  which  had  filled  Egmont's  cup  with 
bitterness  :  though,  like  him,  he  had  a  wife,  he  was  to  leave  no  orphan  family 
to  mourn  him. 

As  he  trod  the  scaffold,  the  apparatus  of  death  seemed  to  have  no  power  to 
move  him.  He  still  repeated  the  declaration  that,  "often  as  he  had  offended 
his  Maker,  he  had  never,  to  his  knowledge,  committed  any  offence  against  the 
king."  When  his  eyes  fell  on  the  bloody  shroud  that  enveloped  the  remains  of 
Egmont,  he  inquired  if  it  were  the  body  of  his  friend.  Being  answered  in  the 
affirmative,  he  made  some  remark  in  Castilian,  not  understood.  He  then 
prayed  for  a  few  moments,  but  in  so  low  a  tone  that  the  words  were  not 
caught  by  the  hy-standers,  and,  rising,  he  asked  pardon  of  those  around  if  he 
had  ever  offended  any  of  them,  and  earnestly  besought  their  prayers.  Then, 
without  further  delay,  he  knelt  down,  and,  repeating  the  words,  "In  manus 
tuas,  Domine,"  he  submitted  himself  to  his  fate.25 

His  bloody  head  was  set  up  opposite  to  that  of  his  fellow-sufferer.  For 
three  hours  these  ghastly  trophies  remained  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the  multi- 
tude. They  were  then  taken  down,  and,  with  the  bodies,  placed  in  leaden 
coflins,  which  were  straightway  removed, — that  containing  the  remains  of 

31  Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Bas,  fol.  58. —  sa  mort,  et  se  trouva  quelquc  peu  opiniastre 
Guerres  civiles  du  Pays-Bas,  p.  177. — Uela-  en  la  confession,  la  regrettant  fort,  disantqu'il 
cicm  de  la  Justicia,  MS. — M.  de  Bavay  has  estoit  assez  confesse."  Mondoucet,  ap.  Bran- 
published  a  letter  from  one  of  the  bishop  of  tome,  torn.  1.  p.  365. 

Ypres's  household,  giving  an  account  of  the  "  "11  etoit  age  environ  cinquante  ans,  et 

last  hours  of  Egmont,  and  written  immediately  etoit  d'une  grande  et  bello  taille,  et  d'une  j.hi- 

al'ter  his  death.     (Procesdn  Comte  d'Egmont,  sionomie  revenante."    Supplement  a  Stradu, 

pp.  232-234.)    The  statements  in  the  letter  torn.  i.  p.  264. 

entirely  corroborate  those  made  in  the  text.  "  "  The  death  of  this  man,"  pays  Strada, 

Indeed,  they  are  so  nearly  identical  with  those  "would  have  been   immoderately   mourned, 

given  by  Foppens  in  the  Supplement  a  Strada,  had  not  all  tears  been  exhausted  by  sorrow 

that  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  the  writer  of  for  Egmont."    De  Bello  Bclgico,  torn.  i.  p. 

the  one  narrative  had  access  to  the  other.  396.— For  the  account  of  Hoorne's  last  mo- 

**  "  Que  avia  servido  a  su  magestad  veinte  ments,    see   Relacion   de  la  Justicia,    M.S. ; 

y  ocbo  afios  y  no  pensaba  tener  merecido  tal  Meteren.  Hist,  des  Pays  Bag,  fol.  58 ;   Sup- 

payo,  pero  que  se  consolaba  que  con  dar  su  lament  a  Strada,  torn.  i.  pp.  265,  266;  Mon- 

cuerpo  a   la  tierra,  saldria  de  los  continues  doucet,  ap.  Brantome,  (Euvres,  tom.  i.  p.  367  ; 

trauajos  en  que  bavia  vivido."    Kelaciondela  l)e  Thou,  Hist,  universelle,  tom.  i.  p.  451; 

Justicia,  MS.  Ossorio,  Albaa  Vita,  p.  287. 
'  "  Se  despita,  maugreant  et  regrettant  fort 


CHARACTER  OF  EGMONT.  357 

Egmont  to  the  convent  of  Santa  Clara,  and  that  of  Hoorne  to  the  ancient 
church  of  Ste.  Gudule.  To  these  places,  especially  to  Santa  Clara,  the  people 
now  flocked,  as  to  the  shrine  of  a  martyr.  They  threw  themselves  on  the 
co  tin,  kissing  it  and  bedewing  it  with  their  tears,  as  if  it  had  contained  the 
relics  of  some  murdered  saint ;  *•  while  many  of  them,  taking  little  heed  of 
the  presence  of  informers,  breathed  vows  of  vengeance,  some  even  swearing 
not  to  trim  either  hair  or  beard  till  these  vows  were  executed.27  The  govern- 
ment seems  to  have  thought  it  prudent  to  take  no  notice  of  this  burst  of 
popular  feeling.  But  a  funeral  hatchment,  blazoned  with  the  arms  of  Egmont, 
which,  as  usual  after  the  master's  death,  had  been  fixed  by  his  domestics  on 
the  gates  of  his  mansion,  was  ordered  to  be  instantly  removed, — no  doubt,  as 
tending  to  keep  alive  the  popular  excitement.**  The  bodies  were  not  allowed 
to  remain  long  in  their  temporary  places  of  deposit,  but  were  transported  to 
the  family  residences  of  the  two  lords  in  the  country,  and  laid  in  the  vaults  of 
their  ancestors.*8 

Thus  by  the  hand  of  the  common  executioner  perished  these  two  unfortunate 
noblemen",  who,  by  their  rank,  possessions,  and  personal  characters,  were  the 
most  illustrious  victims  that  could  have  been  selected  in  the  Netherlands. 
Both  had  early  enjoyed  the  favour  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and  both  had  been 
intrusted  by  Philip  with  some  of  the  highest  offices  in  the  state.  Philip  de 
Montmorency,  Count  Hoorne,  the  elder  of  the  two,  came  of  the  ancient  house 
of  Montmorency  in  France.  Besides  filling  the  high  post  of  Admiral  of  the 
Low  Countries,  ne  was  made  governor  of  the  provinces  of  Gueldres  and  Zut- 
phen,  was  a  councillor  of  state,  and  was  created  by  the  emperor  a  knight  of 
the  Golden  Fleece.  His  fortune  was  greatly  inferior  to  that  of  Count  Egmont ; 
yet  its  confiscation  afforded  a  supply  by  no  means  unwelcome  to  the  needy 
exchequer  of  the  duke  of  Alva. 

However  nearly  on  a  footing  they  might  be  in  many  respects,  Hoorne  was 
altogether  eclipsed  by  his  friend  in  military  renown.  Lamoral,  Count  Egmont, 
inherited  through  his  mother,  the  most  beautiful  woman  of  her  time,**  the 
title  of  prince  of  Gavre, — a  place  on  the  Scheldt,  not  far  from  Ghent.  He 
preferred,  however,  the  more  modest  title  of  Count  of  Egmont,  which  came  to 
him  by  the  father's  side,  from  ancestors  who  had  reigned  over  the  duchy  of 
Gueldres.  The  uncommon  promise  which  he  early  gave  served,  with  his  high 
position,  to  recommend  him  to  the  notice  of  the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth, 
who,  in  1544,  honoured  by  his  presence  Egmont's  nuptials  with  Sabina, 
countess-palatine  of  Bavaria.  In  1546,  when  scarcely  twenty-four  years  of 
age,  he  was  admitted  to  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece,— and,  by  a  singular 
coin°idence,  on  the  same  day  on  which  that  dignity  was  bestowed  on  the  man 
destined  to  become  his  mortal  foe,  the  duke  of  Alva."  Philip,  on  his  acces. 

"•  "  Plush-urn   allaront   A    1'eplise   Sainct«  "  Mondoucet.  the   French   ambassador  at 

Claire  oil  ifisoit  son  corp,  balsant  Ic  cercueil  the  court  of  Brussels,  was  among  the  spec- 

avec  grand*  effusion  de  larmee,  conime  si  ce  tators  who  witnessed  the  execution  of  the 

fust  este   II-K  t<a  nets  n-s«'iin-ii»  et  rellqups  do  two  nobles.     He  sent  home  to  his  master  • 

qtielque  salnrt."     Mondoucet,  ap.  Rrantume.  full  account  of  the  tragic  scene,   the  most 

iKuvres,  loin.  I.  p.  367.  minute,  and  perhaps  the  most  trustworthy, 

•'  Arend.     Alpemecne     Gewhledenis    des  that  we  have  of  it.     It  luckily  fell  Into  Hran- 

VadiTl.md-.,   D.  11.  St.  v.  bl.  66.  -  Strada,  !>«•  tome's  hands,  who  has  incorporated  it  into 

Rello  Belgico.  torn.  I.  p.  396.  bis  notice  of  Kgmont. 

•'  "  Lei  gens  du  conite  d'Aiguemont  plan-  •"  "  l<a    a>tnte**«   d'Alguemont,   qul   em- 

terent  *es  armes  et  enselgnes  de  deuil  a  sa  port  i  en   cette  assembler   le   bruit  d'rtre  la 

porte  du  palais ;  mais  le  due  d'Albeen  estant  plus  belle  de  to-ites  les  Klainande-*."    Corre- 

adverty.  les  en  fit  Wen  outer  btentosl  et  rm-  spondance  de  Marguerite  d'Autriche,  p.  364. 
porter  debors."     Motidoucet,  ap.    Rrautume,  "  Ueilache,  Hist,  du  Uoyaume  den  I'uys> 

Ctuvres,  torn.  i.  p.  307.  lias,  torn.  i.  p.  96. 


358  EXECUTION  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

sion,  raised  him  to  the  dignity  of  a  councillor  of  state,  and  made  him  governor 
of  the  important  provinces  of  Artois  and  Flanders. 

But  every  other  title  to  distinction  faded  away  before  that  derived  from  those 
two  victories  which  left  the  deepest  stain  on  the  French  arms  that  they  had 
received  since  the  defeat  of  Payia.  "  I  have  seen,"  said  the  French  ambas- 
sador, who  witnessed  the  execution  of  Egmont,  "  I  have  seen  the  head  of  that 
man  fall  who  twice  caused  France  to  tremble."  K 

Yet  the  fame  won  by  his  success  was  probably  unfortunate  for  Egmont. 
For  this,  the  fruit  of  impetuous  valour  and  of  a  brilliant  coup-de-main,  was 
very  different  from  the  success  of  a  long  campaign,  implying  genius  and  great 
military  science  in  the  commander.  Yet  the  eclat  it  gave  was  enough  to  turn 
the  head  of  a  man  less  presumptuous  than  Egmont.  It  placed  him  at  once  on 
the  most  conspicuous  eminence  in  the  country,  compelling  him,  in  some  sort, 
to  take  a  position  above  his  capacity  to  maintain.  When  the  troubles  broke 
out,  Egmont  was  found  side  by  side  with  Orange,  in  the  van  of  the  malecon- 
tents.  He  was  urged  to  this  rather  by  generous  sensibility  to  the  wrongs  of 
his  countrymen  than  by  any  settled  principle  of  action.  Thus  acting  from 
impulse,  he  did  not,  like  William,  calculate  the  consequences  of  his  conduct. 
When  those  consequences  came,  he  was  not  prepared  to  meet  them  ;  he  was 
like  some  unskilful  necromancer,  who  has  neither  the  wit  to  lav  the  storm 
which  he  has  raised,  nor  the  hardihood  to  brave  it.  He  was  acted  on  by  con- 
trary influences.  In  opposition  to  the  popular  movement  came  his  strong 
feeling  of  loyalty,  and  his  stronger  devotion  to  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  His 
personal  vanity  co-operated  with  these  ;  for  Egmont  was  too  much  of  a  courtier 
willingly  to  dispense  with  the  smiles  of  royalty.  Thus  the  opposite  forces  by 
which  he  was  impelled  served  to  neutralize  each  other.  Instead  of  moving  on 
a  decided  line  of  conduct,  like  his  friend,  William  of  Orange,  he  appeared  weak 
and  vacillating.  He  hesitated  where  he  should  have  acted.  And  as  the 
storm  thickened,  he  even  retraced  his  steps,  and  threw  himself  on  the  mercy 
of  the  monarch  whom  he  had  offended.  William  better  understood  the 
character  of  his  master, — and  that  of  the  minister  who  was  to  execute  his 
decrees.33 

Still,  with  all  his  deficiencies,  there  was  much  both  in  the  personal  qualities 
of  Egmont  and  in  his  exploits  to  challenge  admiration.  "  I  knew  him,"  says 
Brantome,  "both  in  France  and  in  Spain,  and  never  did  I  meet  with  a  noble- 
man of  higher  breeding,  or  more  gracious  in  his  manners."  M  With  an  address 
so  winning,  a  heart  so  generous,  and  with  so  brilliant  a  reputation,  it  is  not 

**  "Qu'il  avoit  vu  tomber  la  tfte  de  celui  et  il  est  force  qu'ilz  facent  le  sault."     Ar- 

qui  avoit  fait  trembler  deux  fois  la  France."  chives  de  la  Maison  d'Orange-Nassau,  torn.  i. 

Supplement  a  Strada,  torn.  i.  p.  266.  p.  l.xix. 

"  Morillon,  in  a  letter  to  Granvelle,  datrd  "  "  Je  diray  de  lui  que  c'estoit  le  seigneur 

August  3rd,  1567.  a  few  weeks  only  before  de  la  plus  belle  facon  etde  la  meilleure  grace 

Egmont's  arrest,  gives  a  graphic  sketch  of  que  j'aye   veu    jamais,  fust  ce    parmy   les 

that     nobleman,    which,     although    by    no  grandz,  parmy  ses  pairs,  parmy  les  gens  de 

friendly  hand,  seems  to  be  not  wholly  with-  guerre,  et  parmy  les  dames  1'ayant  veu  en 

out  truth :  "  Ce  seigneur,  y  est-il  dit,  est  bant  France  et  en  Espagne,  et  parle  a  luy."   Bran- 

et  presumant  de  soy,  jusques  a  vouloir  em-  tome,  CEuvres,  torn.  i.  p.  369. — An  old  lady 

brasser   le  faict  de   la  republiqne   et  le  re-  of  the  French  court,  who  in  her  early  days 

dressement  d'icelle  et  de  la  religion,  que  ne  had  visited  Flanders,  assured  Brantome  that 

sent   pas  de  son   gibier,  et  est  plus  propre  she   had  often  seen   Egmont,   then   a  mere 

pour  conduire  une  cbasse  ou  volerie,  et,  pour  youth,  and  that  at  that  time  he  was  exces- 

dlre  tout,  une  bataille,  s'il  fut  este  si  bien  sively  shy  and  awkward,  so  much  so,  indeed, 

advise  que  de  se  coirnoistre  et  re  mesurer  de  that  it  was  a  common  jest  with  both  the  men 

eon  pied  ;  mais  les  flattcri-s  perdtnt  ces  gens,  and  women  of  the  court.     Such  was  the  rude 

et  on  leur  fait  accroire  qu'ilz  sont  plus  saiges  stock  from  which  at  a  later  day  was  to  spring 

qu'ilz  ne  sont,  et  llz  le  croient  et  se  bouttent  the  flower  of  chivalry  ! 
By  avaut,  que  aprez  ilz  ne  Be  peuvent  ravoir, 


CONDUCT  OF  ALVA.  359 

wonderful  that  Egmont  should  have  been  the  pride  of  his  court  and  the  idol 
of  his  countrymen.  In  their  idolatry  they  could  not  comprehend  that  Alva's 
persecution  should  not  have  been  prompted  by  a  keener  feeling  than  a  sense 
of  public  duty  or  obedience  to  his  sovereign.  They  industriously  sought  in 
the  earlier  history  of  the  rival  chiefs  the  motives  for  personal  pique.  On 
Alva's  first  visit  to  the  Netherlands,  Egmont,  then  a  young  man,  was  said  to 
have  won  of  him  a  considerable  sum  at  play.  The  ill  will  thus  raised  in  Alva's 
mind  was  heightened  by  Egmont:s  superiority  over  him  at  a  shooting-match, 
which  the  people,  regarding  as  a  sort  of  national  triumph,  hailed  with  an 
exultation  that  greatly  increased  the  mortification  of  the  duke."  But  what 
filled  up  the  measure  of  his  jealousy  was  his  rival's  military  renown  ;  for  the 
Fabian  policy  which  directed  Alvas  campaigns,  however  it  established  his 
claims  to  the  reputation  of  a  great  commander,  was  by  no  means  favourable  to 
those  brilliant  feats  of  arms  which  have  such  attraction  for  the  multitude. 
So  intense,  indeed,  was  the  feeling  of  hatred,  it  was  said,  in  Alva's  bosom, 
that  on  the  day  of  his  rival's  execution  he  posted  himself  behind  a  lattice  of 
the  very  building  in  which  Egmont  had  been  confined,  that  he  might  feast  his 
eyes  with  the  sight  of  his  mortal  agony.  ** 

The  friends  of  Alva  give  a  very  different  view  of  his  conduct.  According 
to  them,  an  illness  under  which  he  laboured  at  the  close  of  Egmont's  trial  was 
occasioned  by  his  distress  of  mind  at  the  task  imposed  on  him  by  the  kin^. 
He  had  written  more  than  once  to  the  court  of  Castile  to  request  some  miti- 
gation of  Egmont's  sentence,  but  was  answered  that  "  this  would  have  been 
easy  to  grant  if  the  ofience  had  been  against  the  king  ;  but  against  the  faith, 
it  was  impossible." 3r  It  was  even  said  that  the  duke  was  so  nmch  moved 
that  he  was  seen  to  shed  tears  as  big  as  peas  on  the  day  of  the  execution.3* 

I  must  confess,  I  have  never  seen  any  account  that  would  warrant  a  belief 
in  the  report  that  Alva  witnessed  in  person  the  execution  of  his  prisoners. 
Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  have  I  met  with  any  letter  of  his  deprecating  the 
severity  of  their  sentence  or  advising  a  mitigation  of  their  punishment. 
This,  indeed,  would  be  directly  opposed  to  his  policy,  openly  avowed.  The 
reader  may  perhaps  recall  the  homely  simile  by  which  he  recommended  to  the 
queen-mother,  at  Bayonne,  to  strike  at  the  great  nobles  in  preference  to  the 
commoners.  "One  salmon,"  he  said,  "was  worth  ten  thousand  frogs."1' 
Soon  after  Egmont's  arrest,  some  of  trie  burghers  of  Brussels  waited  on  him 
to  ask  why  it  had  been  made.  The  duke  bluntly  told  them,  "  When  he  had 
got  together  his  troops,  he  would  let  them  know.""  Everything  shows  that 
in  his  method  of  proceeding  in  regard  to  the  two  lords  lie  liaa  acted  on  a 
preconcerted  plan,  in  the  arrangement  of  which  he  had  taken  his  full  part  In  a 

"  "  Porte*  In  publics  bvtltia  dum  uterque  la  mitigation,  mals  que  Ton  avoit  repondu 

explodondo  ad  signuni*clopo  ex  provocatione  que,  »l  II  n'y  out  este  aultre  offence  que  celle 

contendercnt,    superatus  esset   Albanus.  in-  qui  toucholt  S.  M.,  le  pardon  fut  este  tactile, 

genti  Relgarum  plaumi  ad  nation!*  HUH-  decus  main  qu'elle  ne   fouvoit  reniectre   ['offense 

refrrrntiuni   vicioriam    ex    Duce   Hispano."  faicte   si    grand'-   ii   Dit-u."      Archives  de  la 

Strada.  !>••  Hollo  Kelgicn.  torn.  I.  p.  391.  Mal«on  d'Orangr-NawaO,  Supplement,  p.  81. 

"  Schiller,  In  Ms  account  of  the  execution  "  "  .Peuten-tJi  d'aucuns  que   son   Exc.  at 

of  the  two  nobles,  tells  us  that  it  was  fioui  a  jecte   den  larnies  aus>i  gros-os  que  |oix  au 

window  of  the   Hotel  de  Vllle,  the  fine  old  temps  que   1'on  e>toit   gur  ces  executions." 

building  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  market-  Ibid.,  uM  supra.— They  must  have  been  as 

place,  that  Alva  watched  the  last  struggle*  big  a»  crocodiles'  tears, 

of  his  victim*.     The  cicertme,  on  the  other  "  Ante,  p.  239. 

hand,  who  shows  the  credulous  travel ler  the  '  "Jo  suis  occupe  i  reunlr  mow  troupe*. 
memorabilia  of  the  city,  points  out  the  very  KfpAgtiolcH,  Italiennes,  et  Alleniandex  ; 
chamber  In  tbe  Maison  du  Hoi  In  which  the  quand  Jo  serai  pret.  vous  recevrez  ma  re- 
duke  secreted  himself.—  Valeat  quantum.  nonse."  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Ormige- 

»'  "(ju'il  avoit  pnxure  de  tout  son  puvoir  Nassau,  torn.  111.  p.  xx. 


360  EXECUTION  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

letter  to  Philip,  written  soon  after  the  execution,  he  speaks  with  complacency 
of  having  carried  out  the  royal  views  in  respect  to  the  great  offenders.41  In 
another,  he  notices  the  sensation  caused  by  the  death  of  Egiupnt ;  and  "  the 
greater  the  sensation,"  he  adds,  "  the  greater  will  be  the  benefit  to  be  derived 
from  it."  '*  There  is  little  in  all  this  of  compunction  for  the  act,  or  of  com- 
passion for  its  victims. 

The  truth  seems  to  be  that  Alva  was  a  man  of  an  arrogant  nature,  an 
inflexible  will,  and  of  the  most  narrow  and  limited  views.  His  doctrine  of 
implicit  obedience  went  as  far  as  that  of  Philip  himself.  In  enforcing  it,  he 
disdained  the  milder  methods  of  argument  or  conciliation.  It  was  on  force, 
brute  force  alone,  that  he  relied.  He  was  bred  a  soldier,  early  accustomed  to 
the  stern  discipline  of  the  camp.  The  only  law  he  recognized  was  martial 
law ;  his  only  argument,  the  sword.  No  agent  could  have  been  fitter  to 
execute  the  designs  of  a  despotic  prince.  His  hard,  impassible  nature  was  not 
to  be  influenced  by  those  affections  which  sometimes  turn  the  most  obdurate 
from  their  purpose.  As  little  did  he  know  of  fear  ;  nor  could  danger  deter 
him  from  carrying  out  his  work.  The  hatred  he  excited  in  the  Netherlands 
was  such  that,  as  he  was  warned,  it  was  not  safe  for  him  to  go  out  after  dark. 
Placards  were  posted  up  in  Brussels  menacing  his  life  if  he  persisted  in  the 
prosecution  of  Egmont."  He  held  such  menaces  as  light  as  he  did  the  en- 
treaties of  the  countess  or  the  arguments  of  her  counsel.  Far  from  being 
moved  by  personal  considerations,  no  power  could  turn  him  from  that  narrow 
path  which  he  professed  to  regard  as  the  path  of  duty.  He  went  surely, 
though  it  might  be  slowly,  towards  the  mark,  crushing  by  his  iron  will  every 
obstacle  that  lay  in  his  track.  We  shudder  at  the  contemplation  of  such  a 
character,  relieved  by  scarcely  a  single  touch  of  humanity.  Yet  we  must 
admit  there  is  something  which  challenges  our  admiration  in  the  stern,  un- 
compromising manner,  without  fear  or  favour,  with  which  a  man  of  this 
indomitable  temper  carries  his  plans  into  execution. 

It  would  not  be  fair  to  omit,  in  this  connection,  some  passages  from  Alva's 
correspondence,  which  suggest  the  idea  that  he  was  not  wholly  insensible  to 
feelings  of  compassion, — when  they  did  not  interfere  with  the  performance  of 
his  task.  In  a  letter  to  the  king,  dated  the  ninth  of  June,  four  days  only 
after  the  death  of  the  two  nobles  the  duke  says,  "  Your  majesty  will  under- 
stand the  regret  I  feel  at  seeing  these  poor  lords  brought  to  such  an  end,  and 
myself  obliged  to  bring  them  to  it."  But  I  have  not  snrunk  from  doing  what 
is  for  your  majesty's  service.  Indeed,  they  and  their  accomplices  have  been 
the  cause  of  very  great  present  evil,  and  one  which  will  endanger  the  souls  of 
many  for  years  to  come.  The  Countess  Egmont's  condition  fills  me  with  the 
greatest  pity,  burdened  as  she  is  with  a  family  of  eleven  children,  none  old 
enough  to  take  care  of  themselves ;  and  she  too  a  lady  of  so  distinguished 
rank,  sister  of  the  count-palatine,  and  of  so  virtuous,  truly  Catholic,  and 
exemplary  life."  There  is  no  man  in  the  country  who  does  not  grieve  for  her  ! 

41  "II  lui  rend  compte  de  ce  qu'il  a  fait  "  Ossorio,  Alba?  Vita,  p.  278. 

pour  1'execution  des  ordres  que   le  Roi  lui  "  "  V.  M.  peult  considerer  le  regret  que  c,a 

donna  a  son  depart,   et  qui  consistaient  &  m'a  este  de  voir  ces  pauvres  seigneurs  venus 

arreter  et  a  chatier  exemplairement  les  prin-  a  tels  termes,  et  qu'il  ayt  fallut  que  moy  en 

cipaux  du  pays  qui  s'etaient  rendus  coupables  fusse  1'executeur."    Correspondance  de  Mar- 

duraiit    les    troubles."      Correspondance    de  guerite  d'Autriche.  p.  252. 

Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii.  p.  29.  *4  "  Mad.imed'Egmont  mefaict  grand  pitie 

•"  •  <jVa  ete  une  chose  d"  grand  effet  en  ce  et  compassion,  pour  la  voir  cuargee  de  unze 

pays,   que    1'execution    d'Egmont;    et  plus  enfans  et  nuls  uddressez,  et   elle,  dame  sy 

grand  a  ete  1'effet,  plus   I'exemple  qu'on  a  principal?,  comme  clle  est,  wsur  du  comte 

voulu  faire  sera  fructueux."    Ibid.,  p.  28.  palatin,  et  desi  bonne,  vertueuse,  catholicquo 


FATE  OF  EGMONT'S  FAMILY.  361 

I  cannot  but  commend  her,"  he  concludes,  "  as  I  do  now,  very  humbly,  to  the 
good  graces  of  your  majesty,  beseeching  you  to  call  to  mind  that  if  the  count, 
her  husband,  came  to  trouble  at  the  close  of  his  days,  he  formerly  rendered 
great  service  to  the  state." 4*  The  reflection,  it  must  be  owned,  came  some- 
what late. 

In  another  letter  to  Philip,  though  of  the  same  date,  Alva  recommends  the 
king  to  summon  the  countess  and  Tier  children  to  Spain,  where  her  daughters 
mignt  take  the  veil  and  her  sons  be  properly  educated.  "  I  do  not  believe," 
he  adds,  "  that  there  is  so  unfortunate  a  family  in  the  whole  world.  1  am 
not  sure  that  the  countess  has  the  means  of  procuring  a  supper  this  very 
evening ! "  *7 

Philip,  in  answer  to  these  letters,  showed  that  he  was  not  disposed  to  shrink 
from  his  own  share  of  responsibility  for  the  proceedings  of  his  general.  The 
duke,  he  said,  had  only  done  what  justice  and  his  duty  demanded.4*  He  could 
have  wished  that  the  state  of  things  had  warranted  a  different  result ;  nor 
could  he  help  feeling  deeply  that  measures  like  those  to  which  he  had  been 
forced  should  have  been  necessary  in  his  reign.  "  But,"  continued  the  king, 
"  no  man  has  a  right  to  shrink  from  his  duty.49  I  am  well  pleased,"  he  con- 
cludes, "  to  learn  that  the  two  lords  made  so  good  and  Catholic  an  end.  As 
to  what  you  recommend  in  regard  to  the  countess  of  Egmont  and  her  eleven 
children,  I  shall  give  all  proper  heed  to  it." so 

The  condition  of  the  countess  might  well  have  moved  the  hardest  heart  to 
pity.  Denied  all  access  to  her  husband,  she  had  been  unable  to  afford  him  that 
consolation  which  he  so  much  needed  during  his  long  and  dreary  confinement. 
Yet  she  had  not  been  idle  ;  and,  as  we  have  seen,  she  was  unwearied  in  her 
efforts  to  excite  a  sympathy  in  his  behalf.  Neither  did  she  rely  only  on  the 
aid  which  this  world  can  give  ;  and  few  nights  passed  during  her  lord's  im- 
prisonment in  which  she  and  her  daughters  might  not  be  seen  making  their 
pious  pilgrimages,  barefooted,  to  the  different  churches  of  Brussels,  to  invoke 
the  blessing  of  Heaven  on  their  labours.  She  had  been  supported  through 
this  trying  time  by  a  reliance  on  the  success  of  her  endeavours,  in  which  she 
was  confirmed  by  the  encoiiragenient  she  received  from  the  highest  quarters. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  give  credit  to  the  report  of  a  brutal  jest  attributed  to 
the  duke  of  Alva,  who,  on  the  day  preceding  the  execution,  was  said  to  have 
told  the  countess  "to  be  of  good  cheer ;  for  her  husband  would  leave  the 
prison  on  the  morrow  ! "  *'  There  is  more  reason  to  believe  that  the  Emperor 
Maximilian,  shortly  before  the  close  of  the  trial,  sent  a  gentleman  with 
a  kind  letter  to  the  countess,  testifying  the  interest  he  took  in  her  affairs 
and  assuring  her  she  had  nothing  to  fear  on  account  of  her  husband. st  On 
the  very  morning  of  Egmont's  execution,  she  was  herself,  we  are  told,  paying 
a  visit  of  condolence  to  the  countess  of  Aremberg,  whose  husband  had  lately 

et  exemplaire  vie,  qu'll  n'y  a  hotnme  qul  ne  faict  comme  il  convient  et  vo-tn-  conslden- 

U  regrette."    Coirenpon<l:iucu  de  Marguerite  tion   trcs-l>onne."    Correspondance  de    M«r- 

d'Aulriche,  ubi  supra.  guerltc  d'Autriche.  p.  255. 

*•  Theduke  wrole  nol«w  than  thive  letters  "*  ••  Mais  pentonne  ne  pen  It  delalsser  de  se 

to  the   king,  of  this  same  date,  June  9th.  acquitter  eti  ce  en  quoy  il  est  oblige."     Ibid., 

The  prfcit  of  two  is  given  by  U.ichard,  and  ubl  nupra. 

the  third  U  published  entire  by  Ri-lffenberg.  *°  "Quant  A  la  damn  d'Egmont  et  sea  un/e 

Th'-  countess  atid  her  misfortunes  form  the  enfan«,  et  ce  que  me  y  tvpre-vntez,  en  m<-  les 

burden  of  two  of  them.  recomm.indaiit,  je  y  auray  tout  bun  regard." 

47  "11  ne  crolt  pa*  qn'il  y  ait  aujmird'hui  Ibid.,  ubi  xupra. 

cur  la  t'Tre  une  maison  anas!  mallifurcusp;  "    Arcnd    (Algomecfie    Geschiedenls    des 

il  ne  salt  meme  ai  la  comtesse  aura  '!••  quol  Vaderlaml*.  T>.  li.  St.  v.  bl.  66),  who  get*  ilie 

souper  ce  suir."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  story,  to  which  he  attaches  no  crodit  himself, 

II.,  torn.  il.  p.  28.  from  a  coiitoinpor.iry,  Ilixift. 

••  "Je  treuve  ce  debvoT  de  Justice  estre  "  Supplement  a  struda,  torn.  I.  p.  252. 


332  EXECUTION  OF  EGMONT  AND  HOORNE. 

fallen  in  the  battle  of  Hevligerlee  ;  and  at  her  friend's  house  the  poor  lady  is 
said  to  have  received  the  first  tidings  of  the  fate  of  her  lord." 

The  blow  fell  the  heavier,  that  she  was  so  ill  prepared  for  it.  On  the  same 
day  she  found  herself  not  only  a  widow,  but  a  beggar, — with  a  family  of 
orphan  children  in  vain  looking  up  to  her  for  the  common  necessaries  of  life.54 
In  her  extremity,  she  resolved  to  apply  to  the  kirt£  himself.  She  found  an 
apology  for  it  in  the  necessity  of  transmitting  to  Philip  her  husband's  letter  to 
him,  which,  it  seems,  had  been  intrusted  to  her  care."  She  apologizes  for  not 
sooner  sending  this  last  and  most  humble  petition  of  her  deceased  lord,  by  the 
extreme  wretchedness  of  her  situation,  abandoned  as  she  is  by  all,  far 'from 
kindred  and  country.*'  She  trusts  in  his  majesty's  benignity  and  compassion  " 
to  aid  her  sons  by  receiving  them  into  his  service  when  they  shall  be  of 
sufficient  age.  This  will  oblige  her,  during  the  remainder  of  her  sad  days,  and 
her  children  after  her,  to  pray  God  for  the  long  and  happy  life  of  his  majesty. *• 
It  must  have  given  another  pang  to  the  heart  of  the  widowed  countess  to 
have  been  thus  forced  to  solicit  aid  from  the  very  hand  that  had  smitten  her. 
But  it  was  the  mother  pleading  for  her  children. 

Yet  Philip,  notwithstanding  his  assurances  to  the  duke  of  Alva,  showed  no 
alacrity  in  relieving  the  wants  of  the  countess.  On  the  first  of  September  the 
duke  again  wrote  to  urge  the  necessity  of  her  case,  declaring  that,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  a  "  small  sum  that  he  had  himself  sent,  she  and  the  children 
would  have  perished  of  hunger  ! " 59 

Tue  misfortunes  of  this  noble  lady  excited  commiseration  not  only  at  home, 
but  in  other  countries  of  Europe,  and  especially  in  Germany,  the  land  of  her 
birth.60  Her  brother,  the  elector  of  Bavaria,  wrote  to  Philip  to  urge  the 
restitution  of  her  husband's  estates  to  his  family.  Other  German  princes 
preferred  the  same  request,  which  was  moreover  formally  made  by  the  emperor, 
through  his  ambassador  at  Madrid.  Philip  coolly  replied  that  '*  the  time  for 
this  had  not  yet  come."*1  A  moderate  pension,  meanwhile,  was  annually  paid 
by  Alva  to  the  countess  of  Egmont,  who  survived  her  husband  ten  years, — not 
long  enough  to  see  her  children  established  in  possession  of  their  patrimony.82 

"  "Laquelle,   ainsi   qu'elle   estolt   en   sa  "  "Ce  que  m'obligerat,  le  reste  de  mes 

chambre  ft  sur  ces  propos,  on  luy  vint  an-  tristes  jours,  et  toute  ma  posterity  a  prier 

noncer  qu'on  alloit  Cruncher  la  teste  a  son  Pieu  pour  la  longue  et  heureuse  vie  de  V. 

mary."    Rrantome,  (EuvrL>s,  torn,  i.  p.  368. —  M."     Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

Under  all    the    circumstances,    one    cannot  i9  "S'il  ne  leur  avail  ras  donne  quelqne 

insist  strongly  on  the  probability  of  the  anec-  argent,    ils  mourraient  de  faim."    Ibid.,  p. 

dote.  38. 

"  One  of  her  daughters,  in  a  fit  of  derange-  "°  It  seems  strange  that  Goetlie,  in  his  tra- 

ment  brought  on  by  excessive  grief  for  h?r  gedy  of  "  Egmont,"  should  liave  endeavoured 

father's  fate,  attempted  to  make  away  with  to  excite  what  may  be  truly  called  a  mere- 

h"rsrlf  by  throwing  herself  from  a  window.  ttirious  interest  in  the  breasts  of  his  audi- 

Relacion  de  la  Justicia,  MS.  ence,   by    bringing  an    imaginary  mistress, 

'•'  This  was  the  duplicate,  no  doubt,  of  the  nam<  d   Clara,   on   the  stage,   instead  of  the 

letter  given  to  the  bishop  of  Ypres,  to  whom  noble-hearted  wife,  so  much  belter  qualified 

K  jtnoni  may  have  intrusted  a  copy,  with  the  to  share  the  fortunes  of  her  husband  and  give 

idea  that  it  would  be  more  certain  to  reach  dignity  to  his  sufferings.     Independently  of 

the  bands  of  the  king  than  the  one  sent  to  other  considerations,  this  departure  from  his- 

his  wife.  tone  truth  cannot  be  defended  on  any  true 

M  "  La  misere  oii  elle  se  trouve,  £tant  de-  principle  of  dramatic  effect, 

venue  veuve  avec  onze  enfans,  abandonee  de  •'  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 

tous,  hors  de  son  pays  et  loin  de  ses  parents,  tunes,  vol.  i.  p.  1V3. 

1'a  empeche'e  d'envoyer  plus  tot  au  Roi  la  •*  After  an  annual  grant,  which  rose  from 

derniere  et  ires-humble  requete  de  s>on  de-  eight  to  twelve   thousand  livres,   the  duke 

fimt  mari."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,  settled  on  her  a  pension  of  two  thousand 

torn.  ii.  p.  31.  gulden,  which  conlinred  to  the  time  of  b°r 

47  "he  la    benignite    et    pitie    du    Roi."  dea'h.  in  1578.    (Arend,  Algemeene  Geschie- 

Ibid.,  ubi  supra.  denis  des  Vaderlauds,  D.  ii.  St.  v.  bl.  66.) 


SENTIMENT  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


363 


Shortly  before  her  death,  her  eldest  son,  then  grown  to  man's  estate,  chafing 
under  the  sense  of  injustice  to  himself  and  his  family,  took  part  in  the  war 
against  the  Spaniards.  Philip,  who  may  perhaps  have  felt  some  compunction 
for  the  ungenerous  requital  he  had  made  for  the  father's  services,  not  only 
forgave  this  act  of  disloyalty  in  the  son,  but  three  years  later  allowed  the 
young  man  to  resume  his  allegiance  and  placed  him  in  full  possession  of  the 
honours  and  estates  of  his  ancestors.'* 

Alva,  as  we  have  seen,  in  his  letters  to  Philip,  had  dwelt  on  the  important 
eTects  of  Egmont's  execution.  He  did  not  exaggerate  these  effects.  lint  he 
sorely  mistook  the  nature  of  them.  Abroad,  the  elector  of  Bavaria  at  once 
threw  his  whole  weight  into  the  scale  of  Orange  and  the  party  of  reform." 
Others  of  the  German  princes  followed  his  example  ;  and  Maximilian's 
ambassador  at  Madrid  informed  Philip  that  the  execution  of  the  two  nobles, 
by  the  indignation  it  had  caused  throughout  Germany,  had  wonderfully  served 
the  designs  of  the  prince  of  Orange.84 

At  home  the  effects  were  not  less  striking.  The  death  of  these  two  illustrious 
men,  following  so  close  upon  the  preceding  executions,  spread  a  deep  gloom 
over  the  country.  Men  became  possessed  with  the  idea  that  the  reign  of 
blood  was  to  be  perpetual."  All  confidence  was  destroyed,  even  tliat  con- 
fidence which  naturally  exists  between  parent  and  child,  between  brother 
and  brother.67  The  foreign  merchant  caught  somewhat  of  this  general  dis- 
trust, and  refused  to  send  his  commodities  to  a  country  where  they  were  exposed 
to  confiscation.'*  Yet  among  the  inhabitants  indignation  was  greater  than 
even  fear  or  sorrow  ; "  and  the  Flemings  who  had  taken  part  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  Esrmont  trembled  before  the  wrath  of  an  avenging  people.7*  Such 
were  the  effects  produced  by  the  execution  of  men  whom  the  nation  reverenced 


The  gulden,  or  guilder,  at  the  present  day,  \a 
equivalent  to  about  one  shilling  and  nine- 
pence  sterling,  or  thirty-nine  cents. 

•*  Philip.  Count  Kgniont,  lived  to  enjoy  his 
ancestral  honours  till  1590,  when  be  was 
slain  at  Ivry,  fighting  against  Henry  the 
Fourth  and  the  P'Oiestants  of  France.  He 
died  without  l«8ue,  and  was  succeeded  by  his 
brother  Lamoral,  a  careless  prodigal,  who 
with  the  name  seems  to  have  inherited  few  of 
the  virtues  of  bin  illustrious  father.  Arend, 
Algenu-ene  (iescuiedenis  des  Vaderlands,  D. 
11.  St.  v.  bl.  66. 

M  Vamlervynckt,  Troubles  dec  Pats-Baa, 
torn.  II.  p.  •.:.'.'.•. 

"  ••  La  mort  des  comtes  d'Kgniont  et  de 
Homes,  et  ce  qui  s'est  pas*«  avec  1'electeur 
de  Treves,  (tervent  mervcilleu«enient  sea  des- 
»-ins  "  Correspondence  de  Philippe  II.,  torn, 
ii.  p.  37. 

*  "  Les  executions  faltes  out  Imprime  dans 
IPS  esprits  une  Urreur  »i  grand?,  qu'on  rroit 
qu'll  *'agit  de  gouverner  par  le  Bang  u  perpe- 
tuite."  Ibid.,  p.  29. 

"  "II  n'y  a  plus  de  confianre  du  frere  au 
frere,  et  du  pere  au  flit."  ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

"  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

••  "Fuuestum  Kgmnntii  finem  doluere 
Belgw  odlo  m.ijore,  quAui  luctit."  Slrada,  De 
Bcllo  Rcl|fico.  torn.  1.  p.  394. 

~"  Tlie  Flemixh  councillor,  Hcs-wls,  who.  It 
may  be  remembered,  had  particular  charge 
of  the  provincial  prosecutions  incurred  still 


greater  odium  by  the  report  of  bis  being  em- 
ployed to  draft  the  sentences  of  the  two  lords. 
He  subsequently  withdrew  from  the  blondy 
tribunal,  and  returned  to  his  native  province, 
when-  be  became  vice-president  of  the  council 
of  Flanders.  This  new  accession  of  dignity 
only  made  him  a  more  conspicuous  mark  for 
the  public  hatred.  In  1577,  in  a  popular  in- 
surrection which  overturned  the  government 
of  Ghent,  Hessels  was  dragged  from  his  house 
and  thrown  into  prison.  Alter  lying  there  a 
year,  a  party  of  ruffians  broke  into  the  plnce, 
forced  him  into  a  carriage,  and.  taking  him  a 
short  distance  from  town,  executed  the  sum- 
mary justice  of  Lynch  law  on  their  victim  by 
hanging  him  to  a  tree.  Some  of  the  party, 
after  the  murder,  were  audacious  enough  to 
return  to  Ghent  with  looks  of  the  gray  hair 
of  the  wretrhe  i  mnn  displayed  in  triumph  on 
their  bonnets.  Some  years  litter,  when  the 
former  authorities  were  re-extiblishrd,  the 
bones  of  Heiwels  were  removed  from  their 
unhallowed  burial-place  and  laid  with  great 
solemnity  and  luneral  pomp  in  the  church  of 
St.  Michael.  Prose  and  verse  were  exhausted 
in  his  praise.  His  memory  was  revered  as 
that  of  a  martyr.  Miracles  were  performed 
at  his  tomb  ;  and  the  popular  credulity  went 
so  far  tb.it  It  was  currently  reported  in  Client 
that  Plulip  had  solicited  the  pope  for  bis 
ca-ionizatlon  !  See  the  curious  particulars  In 
Vunderv  \tickt.  Trouble*  des  Pays-bus,  torn. 
11.  pp.  451-456. 


364  SECRET  EXECUTION  OF  MONT1GNY. 

as  martyrs  in  the  cause  of  freedom.  Alva  notices  these  consequences  in  his 
letters  to  the  king.  But,  though  he  could  discern  the  signs  of  the  times,  he 
little  dreamed  of  the  extent  of  the  troubles  they  portended.  "  The  people  of 
this  country,"  he  writes,  "  are  of  so  easy  a  temper  that,  when  your  majesty 
shall  think  fit  to  grant  them  a  general  pardon,  your  clemency,  I  trust,  will 
make  them  as  prompt  to  render  you  their  obedience  as  they  are  now  reluctant 
to  do  it." 7l  The  haughty  soldier,  in  his  contempt  for  the  peaceful  habits  of 
a  burgher  population,  comprehended  as  little  as  his  master  the  true  character 
of  the  men  of  the  Netherlands. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SECRET  EXECUTION  OP   MONTIONY. 

Bergen  and  Montigny— Their  Situation  in  Spain — Deatli  of  Bergen— Arrest  of  Montigny — Plot 
for  bis  Escape  —  His  Process  —  Removal  to  Siuiancas — Closer  Confinement  —  Midnight 
Execution. 

1567-1570. 

BEFORE  bidding  a  long  adieu  to  the  Netherlands,  it  will  be  well  to  lav  before 
the  reader  an  account  of  a  transaction  which  has  proved  a  fruitful  theme  of 
speculation  to  the  historian,  but  which  until  the  present  time  has  been 
shrouded  in  impenetrable  mystery. 

It  may  be  remembered  that  in  the  year  1566  two  noble  Flemings,  the 
marquis  of  Bergen  and  the  baron  of  Montigny,  were  sent  on  a  mission  to  the 
court  of  Madrid,  to  lay  before  the  king  the  critical  state  of  affairs,  impera- 
tively demanding  some  change  in  the  policy  of  the  government.  The  two 
lords  went  on  the  mission  ;  but  they  never  returned.  Many  conjectures  were 
made  respecting  their  fate  ;  and  historians  have  concluded"  that  Bergen  pos- 
sibly,1 and  certainly  Montigny,  came  to  their  end  by  violence.2  But  in  the 
want  of  evidence  it  was  only  conjecture ;  while  the  greatest  discrepancy  has 
prevailed  in  regard  to  details.  It  is  not  till  very  recently  that  the  veil  has 
been  withdrawn  through  the  access  that  has  been  given  to  the  Archives  of 
Siinancas,  that  dread  repository  in  which  the  secrets  of  the  Castilian  kings 
have  been  buried  for  ages.  Independently  of  the  interest  attaching  to  the 
circumstances  of  the  present  narrative,  it  is  of  great  importance  for  the  light 
it  throws  on  the  dark  unscrupulous  policy  of  Philip  the  Second.  It  has, 
moreover,  the  merit  of  resting  on  the  most  authentic  grounds,  the  correspond- 
ence of  the  king  and  his  ministers. 

Both  envoys  were  men  of  the  highest  consideration.  The  marquis  of 
Bergen,  by  his  rank  and  fortune,  was  in  the  first  class  of  the  Flemish  aris- 
tocracy.1 Montigny  was  of  the  ancient  house  of  the  Montmorencys,  being  a 

"  "  Este  es  un  pueblo  tan  IScil,  que  espero  *  Meteren  tells  us  that  Montigny  was  killed 

que  con  ver  la  clemencia  de  V.  M.,  haci"n-  by  poison  which  his  page,   who  afterwards 

dose  el  pardon  general,  se  ganaran  losunlmos  confessed  the  crime,  put  in  his  broth.     (Hist. 

«  que  de  buena  gana  lleven  la  ob  diencia  que  des  Pays-Bis,  fol.  60.)    Vandervynckt,  after 

digo,   que  aliora   sufren   de  malo."     Corre-  noticing    various    rumours,   dismisses    them 

spondance  de  Philippe  II.,  lorn.  ii.  p.  29.  with  the  remark,  "On  n'a  pu  navoirau  juste 

1  "  Le  bruit  public  qui  subsist?  encore,  di-  ce  qu'il  etait  devenu."    Troubles  des  Pays- 

vulpue  qu'il  est  mort  emp"isonne."   Vander-  Bus,  torn.  ii.  p.  237. 

vynckt,  Tronbl- s  dea  Pays-Ras,  torn.  ii.  p.  *  His  revenues  seem  to  have  been  larger 

235.— The  author  himself  does  not  endorse  the  than  those  of  any  other  Flemish  lord,  except 

vulgar  rumour.  Egtnont  and  Orange, — amounting  to  some- 


BERGEN  AND  MONTIGNY.  365 

younger  brother  of  the  unfortunate  Count  Hoorne.  He  occupied  several 
important  posts, — among  others,  that  of  governor  of  Tournay, — and,  like 
Bergen,  was  a  knight  of  the  Golden  Fleece.  In  the  political  disturbances  of 
the  time,  although  not  placed  in  the  front  of  disaffection,  the  two  lords  had 
taken  part  with  the  discontented  faction,  had  joined  in  the  war  upon  Gran- 
velle,  and  had  very  generally  disapproved  of  the  policy  of  the  crown.  They 
had,  especially,  raised  their  voices  against  the  system  of  religious  persecution, 
with  a  manly  independence  which  had  secured  for  them— it  seems  unde- 
servedly— the  reputation  of  being  the  advocates  of  religious  reform.  This 
was  particularly  the  case  with  Bergen,  who,  to  one  that  asked  how  heretics 
should  be  dealt  with,  replied,  "  If  they  were  willing  to  be  converted,  I  would 
not  trouble  them.  If  they  refused,  still  I  would  not  take  their  lives,  as  they 
might  hereafter  be  converted."  This  saying,  duly  reported  to  the  ears  of 
Philip,  was  doubtless  treasured  up  against  the  man  who  had  the  courage  to 
utter  it4 

The  purpose  of  their  embassy  was  to  urge  on  the  king  the  necessity  of  a 
more  liberal  and  lenient  policy,  to  which  Margaret,  who  had  not  yet  Broken 
with  the  nobles,  was  herself  inclined.  It  was  not  strange  that  the  two  lords 
should  have  felt  the  utmost  reluctance  to  undertake  a  mission  which  was  to 
bring  them  so  directly  within  the  power  of  the  monarch  whom  they  knew 
they  had  offended,  and  who,  as  they  also  knew,  was  not  apt  to  forgive  an 
offence.  True,  Egmont  had  gone  on  a  similar  mission  to  Madrid  and  returned 
uninjured  to  Brussels.  But  it  was  at  an  earlier  period,  when  the  aspect  of 
things  was  not  .«o  dangerous.  His  time  had  not  yet  come. 

It  was  not  till  after  much  delay  that  the  other  nobles,  with  the  regent,  pre- 
vailed on  Bergen  and  Montigny  to  accept  the  trust,  by  urging  on  them  its 
absolute  importance  for  assuring  the  tranquillity  of  the  country.  Even  then, 
an  injury  which  confined  the  marquis  some  weeks  to  his  hoftse  furnished  him 
with  a  plausible  excuse  for  not  performing  his  engagement,  of  which  he  would 
gladly  nave  availed  himself.  IJnt  his  scruples  again  vanished  before  the 
arguments  and  entreaties  of  his  friends ;  and  he  consented  to  follow,  as  he 
could  not  accompany,  Montigny. 

The  latter  reached  Madrid  towards  the  middle  of  June,  1566,  was  graciously 
received  by  the  king,  and  was  admitted  to  repeated  audiences,  at  which  he 
did  not  fail  to  urge  tne  remedial  measures  countenanced  by  Margaret.  Philip 
appeared  to  listen  with  complacency,  but  declined  giving  an  answer  till  the 
arrival  of  the  other  ambassador,  who,  having  already  set  out  on  his  journey, 
was  attacked,  on  his  way  through  France,  by  a  fever.  There  Bergen  halted, 
and  .T_r;iin  thought  of  abandoning  the  expedition.  His  good  genius  seemed 
ever  willing  to  interpose  to  save  nim.  But  his  evil  genius,  in  the  shape  of 
Philip,  who  wrote  to  him  in  the  most  condescending  terms,  to  hasten  his 
journey,  beckoned  him  to  Madrid,5 

Besides  the  two  envoys  there  was  another  person  of  consequence  from  the 
Low  Countries  at  that  time  in  the  capital, — Simon  Renard,  once  Charles's 
minister  at  the  English  court,  the  inexorable  foe  of  Granvelle  He  had  been 
persuaded  by  Philip  to  come  to  Spain,  although  to  do  so,  he  knew,  was  to  put 
himself  on  trial  for  his  manifold  offences  against  the  government  He  was 

thing    m  ITP    than     fifty     thouMnd     florins  Fray  I/orenio  Vlllavlcencio,  not,  a*  may  be 

annunlly.     Conv«,  ondance  de   1'hillppe  II.,  suppowd,  to  du  honour  to  the  author  of  It, 

torn.  ii.  p.  115.  but  to  ruin  him. 

4  G>rre«piM>d»nce  de  Philippe  II..  Rappott,  *  Correspondence  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p. 

p.  xxxvH  —  It  was  reported  to  Philip*  nee-  439. 
relnry,    Era«*o,   by   thut   mischievous    bigot. 


366  SECRET  EXECUTION  OF  MONTIGNY 

arrested,  proceedings  were  commenced  against  him,  and  he  was  released  only 
by  an  illness  which  terminated  in  his  death.  There  seems  to  have  been  a 
mysterious  fascination  possessed  by  Philip,  that  he  could  thus  draw  within 
his  reach  the  very  men  whom  every  motive  of  self-preservation  should  have 
kept  at  an  immeasurable  distance. 

The  arrival  of  the  marquis  did  not  expedite  the  business  of  the  mission. 
Unfortunately,  about  that  period  news  came  to  Madrid  of  the  outbreak  of 
the  iconoclasts,  exciting  not  merely  in  Spain,  but  throughout  Christendom, 
feelings  of  horror  and  indignation.  There  was  no  longer  a  question  as  to  a 
more  temperate  policy.  The  only  thought  now  was  of  vengeance.  It  was  in 
vain  that  the  Flemish  envoys  interposed  to  mitigate  the  king's  anger  and 
turn  him  from  those  violent  measures  which  must  bring  ruin  on  the  country. 
Their  remonstrances  were  unheeded.  They  found  access  to  his  person  by  no 
means  so  easy  a  thing  as  before.  They  felt  that  somewhat  of  the  odium  of 
the  late  transactions  attached  to  them.  Even  the  courtiers,  with  the  ready 
instinct  that  detects  a  sovereign's  frown,  grew  cold  in  their  deportment.  The 
situation  of  the  envoys  became  every  day  more  uncomfortable.  Their  mission 
was  obviously  at  an  end,  and  all  they  now  asked  was  leave  to  return  to  the 
Netherlands. 

But  the  king  had  no  mind  to  grant  it.  He  had  been  long  since  advised  by 
Granvelle,  and  others  in  whom  ne  trusted,  that  both  the  nobles  had  taken 
a  decided  part  in  fostering  the  troubles  of  the  country.'  To  that  country 
they  were  never  to  return.  Philip  told  them  he  had  need  of  their  presence 
for'some  time  longer,  to  advise  with  him  on  the  critical  state  of  affairs  in 
Flanders.  So  thin  a  veil  could  not  impose  on  them ;  and  they  were  filled 
with  the  most  serious  apprehensions.  They  wrote  to  Margaret,  begging  her 
to  request  the  king  to  dismiss  them  ;  otherwise  they  should  have  good  cause 
to  complain  both  of  her  and  of  the  nobles,  who  had  sent  them  on  a  mission 
from  which  they  would  gladly  have  been  excused.7  But  Margaret  had  already 
written  to  her  brother  to  keep  them  in  Spain  until  the  troubles  in  Flanders 
should  be  ended.*  On  the  reception  of  the  letter  of  her  envoys,  however,  she 
replied  that  she  had  already  written  to  the  king  to  request  leave  for  them  to 
return.9  I  have  found  no  record  of  such  a  letter. 

In  the  spring  of  1567,  the  duke  of  Alva  was  sent  to  take  command  in  the 
Netherlands.  Such  an  appointment,  at  such  a  crisis,  plainly  intimated  the 
course  to  be  pursued,  and  the  host  of  evils  it  would  soon  bring  on  the  devoted 
country.  The  conviction  of  this  was  too  much  for  Bergen,  heightened  as  his 
distress  was  by  his  separation,  at  such  a  moment,  from  all  that  was  most  dear 
to  him  on  earth.  He  fell  ill  of  a  fever,  and  grew  rapidly  worse,  till  at  length 
it  was  reported  to  Philip  that  there  was  no  chance  for  his  recovery  unless  he 
were  allowed  to  return  to  his  native  land.10 

"  See  the  letters  of   the  royal    con  tailor,  d»s  seigneurs  de  par  deli,  pour  nous  av<.jr 

Alonzo  del  Canto,    from    Brussels.      (Corre-  command^  de  venir  ici,  pour  recevoir  honte 

fipondance  de  1'hilippe  II.,  torn.   i.  pp.  411,  et  desplaisir,  cstantz  forces  journellement  de 

425.)     Granvelle,   In  a    letter  from    Rom",  veoir  et  oyr  choses qui  nos  desplaisent  jucqurs 

chimes  in  with  the  same  tune, — though,  as  a  1'ame,  et  de  veoir  aussy  le  pen  que  S.  M.  se 

usual  with  the  prelate,  in    a   more  covert  sert  de  nous."    Correspondance  de  Philippe 

manner:  "  Le  choix  de  Berghes  et  Montigny  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  498. 

n'est  pas  mauvais,  si  le  but  de  leur  mission  "  This  letter  is  dated  November  18th,  1566. 

est  d'informer  le  Roi  <le  1'etat  des  choses :  car  [Ibid.,  p.  486.)    The  letter  of  the  two  lords 

ils  sent  ceux  qui  en  ont  le  mieux  connalssance.  was  written  on  the  last  day  of  the  December 

et  qui  peut-ftre  y  ont  pris  le  plus  de  part."  following. 

Ibid  ,  p.  417.  •  Her  letter  is  dated  March  5th,  1567.  Ibid., 

7  "  Autrement,    certes,  Madame,    aurions  p.  516. 

juste  occasion  de  nous  doloir  tt  de  V.  A.  et  lo  Ibid.,  p.  535. 


DEATH  OF  BERGEX-ARREST  OF  MONTIGNY.          367 

This  placed  the  king  in  a  perplexing  dilemma.  He  was  not  disposed  to  let 
the  marquis  escape  from  his  nands  even  by  the  way  of  a  natural  death.  He 
was  stillless  inclined  to  assent  to  his  return  to  Flanders.  In  this  emergency 
he  directed  Ruy  Gomez,  the  prince  of  Eboli,  to  visit  the  sick  nobleman,  who 
was  his  personal  friend.  In  case  Gomez  found  the  marquis  so  ill  that  his 
recovery  was  next  to  impossible,  he  was  to  give  him  the  king's  permission  to 
return  home.  If,  however,  there  seemed  a  prospect  of  his  recovery,  he  was 
only  to  hold  out  the  hope  of  such  a  permission.11  In  case  of  the  sick  man's 
death,  Gomez  was  to  take  care  to  have  his  obsequies  performed  in  such  a  way 
as  to  show  the  sorrow  of  the  king  and  his  ministers  at  his  loss,  and  their 
respect  for  the  lords  of  the  Low  Countries ! l2  He  was  moreover,  in  that 
event,  to  take  means  to  have  the  marquis's  property  in  the  Netherlands 
sequestrated,  as,  should  rebellion  be  proved  against  him,  it  would  be  forfeited 
to  the  crown.  This  curious  and,  as  it  must  be  allowed,  highly  confidential 
epistle  was  written  with  the  king's  own  hand.  The  address  ran,  "  Ruy  Gomez 
— to  his  hands.  Not  to  be  opened  nor  read  in  the  presence  of  the  bearer." 

Which  part  of  the  royal  instruction  the  minister  thought  best  to  follow  for 
the  cure  of  the  patient — whether  he  gave  him  an  unconditional  permission  to 
return,  or  only  held  out  the  hope  that  he  would  do  so — we  are  not  informed. 
It  matters  little,  however.  The  marquis,  it  is  probable,  had  already  learned 
not  to  put  his  trust  in  princes.  At  all  events,  the  promises  of  the  king  did  as 
little  for  the  patient  as  the  prescriptions  of  the  doctor.  On  the  twenty-first  of 
May  he  died,— justifying  the  melancholy  presentiment  with  which  he  had 
entered  on  his  mission. 

Alontigny  was  the  only  victim  that  now  remained  to  Philip ;  and  he  caused 
him  to  be  guarded  with  redoubled  vigilance.  He  directed  Ruy  Gomez  to  keep 
an  eye  on  all  his  movements,  and  to  write  to  the  governors  of  Navarre,  Cata- 
lonia, and  other  frontier  places,  to  take  precautions  to  intercept  the  Flemish 
lord  in  case  of  his  attempting  to  fly  the  country.1*  Montigny  was  in  fact  a 
prisoner,  with  Madrid  for  the  limits  of  his  prison.  Yet,  after  this,  the  regent 
could  write  to  him  from  Brussels  that  she  was  pleased  to  learn  from  her  brother 
that  he  was  soon  to  give  him  his  con</e.lt  If  the  king  said  this,  he  had  a 
bitter  meaning  in  his  words,  beyond  what  the  duchess  apprehended. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  that  Montigny  was  allowed  to  retain  even  this 
dlgirii  of  liberty.  In  September,  1567,  arrived  the  tidings  of  the  arrest  of  the 
Counts  Egmont  and  Hporne.  Orders  were  instantly  issued  for  the  arrest  of 
Montigny.  He  was  seized  by  a  detachment  of  the  royal  guard  and  l>orne  oif 
to  the  alcazar  of  Segovia.11  He  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  leave  the  fortress 
day  or  night ;  but  as  much  indulgence  was  shown  to  him  as  was  compatible 
with  this  strict  confinement ;  and  he  was  permitted  to  take  with  him  the 
various  retainers  who  composed  his  household,  and  to  maintain  his  establish- 
ment in  prison.  But  what  indulgence  could  soften  the  bitterness  of  a  captivity 
far  from  Kindred  and  country,  with  the  consciousness,  moreover,  that  the  only 
avenue  from  his  prison  conducted  to  the  scaffold  ! 

11  "  De  lul  dire  (mala  M>ulement  apres  qu'll  de"  Payn-Ban  !  "     IMd.,  p.  63«. 

•e  sera  as*ur£  qu'une  frueriaon  ent  a  peu  prea  "  !>>M  .  ubl  supra. 

impotwible)  que  le  Rot  lui  pennet  de  retourner  "  "  Kile  e«r*re  le  volr  »on»  pro.  pulque  1« 

•ux   I'ayz-Baa:  ri,  au  contrail*.  II  lul  parai«-  Rol  lul  a  fait  dire  que  *>n  intention  etait  de 

».lt  que  le  marquis  put  ae  retabllr,  11  ke  con-  lul  donner  bimtoi  non  coiiRe."     Ib.d.,  p.  6i». 

t.  nterait  df  lul  faire  e*p<rer  cetUs  permission."  —The  letter  is  dated  July  13th. 

Currespondance  de   Philippe  11.,   tom.  I.  p.  "  Tbe  order  for  the  arrrat,  addrrwrd  to  th* 

5U5.  conde  de  Chincbon,  alraycle  of  the  rastle  of 

•  ••  11  sera  bten,  «n  cette  occasion,  d«  men-  Segovia,  U  to  be  found  In  the  Documentor 

trer  le  regret  one  Ic  Rol  et  aes  m  nlstre*  out  InedlUx,  tom.  IT.  p.  (26. 
dt  sa  inori,  et  It  cat  qn'IU  font  det  seigneur* 


368  SECRET  EXECUTION  OF  MONTIGNY. 

In  his  extremity,  Montigny  looked  around  for  the  means  of  effecting  his 
own  escape  ;  and  he  nearly  succeeded.  One,  if  not  more,  of  the  Spaniards  on 
guard,  together  with  his  own  servants,  were  in  the  plot.  It  was  arranged  that 
the  prisoner  should  file  through  the  bars  of  a  window  in  his  apartment  and 
lower  himself  to  the  ground  by  means  of  a  rope  ladder.  Relays  of  horses  were 
provided  to  take  him  rapidly  on  to  the  sea-port  of  Santander,  in  the  north, 
whence  he  was  to  be  transported  in  a  shallop  to  St.  Jean  de  Luz.  The 
materials  for  executing  his  part  of  the  work  were  conveyed  to  Montigny  in  the 
loaves  of  bread  daily  sent  to  him  by  his  baker.  Everything  seemed  to  promise 
success.  The  bars  of  the  window  were  removed."  They  waited  only  for  a 
day  when  the  alcayde  of  the  castle  would  not  be  likely  to  visit  it.  At  this 
juncture  the  plot  was  discovered  through  the  carelessness  of  the  maitre- 
d'Mtel. 

This  person  neglected  to  send  one  of  the  loaves  to  his  master,  which  con- 
tained a  paper  giving  sundry  directions  respecting  the  mode  of  escape  and 
mentioning  the  names  of  several  of  the  parties.  The  loaf  fell  into  the  hands 
of  a  soldier.17  On  breaking  it,  the  paper  was  discovered,  and  taken  by  him  to 
the  captain  of  the  guard.  The  plot  was  laid  open  ;  the  parties  were  arrested, 
and  sentenced  to  death  or  the  galleys.  The  king  allowed  the  sentence  to  take 
effect  in  regard  to  the  Spaniards.  He  granted  a  reprieve  to  the  Flemings, 
saying  that  what  they  had  done  was  in  some  sort  excusable,  as  being  for  the 
service  of  their  master.  Besides,  they  might  be  of  use  hereafter,  in  furnishing 
testimony  in  the  prosecution  of  Montigny.18  On  this  compound  principle  their 
lives  were  sparecf.  After  languishing  some  time  in  prison,  they  were  allowed 
to  return  to  the  Low  Countries,  bearing  with  them  letters  from  Montigny, 
requesting  his  friends  to  provide  for  them  in  consideration  of  their  sacrifices 
for  him.  But  they  were  provided  for  in  a  much  niore  summary  manner  by 
Alva,  who,  on  their  landing,  caused  them  to  be  immediately  arrested,  and 
banished  them  all  from  the  country,  under  pain  of  death  if  they  returned 
to  it ! 19 

The  greatest  sympathy  was  felt  for  Montigny  in  the  Netherlands,  where  the 
nobles  were  filled,  with  indignation  at  the  unworthy  treatment  their  envoy  had 
received  from  Philip.  His  stepmother,  the  dowager-countess  of  Hoorne,  was 
as  untiring  in  her  efforts  for  him  as  she  had  been  for  his  unfortunate  brother. 
These  were  warmly  seconded  by  his  wife,  a  daughter  of  the  prince  of  Epinoy, 
to  whom  Montigny  had  been  married  but  a  short  time  before  his  mission  to 
Spain.  This  lady  wrote  a  letter  in  the  most  humble  tone  of  supplication  to 
Pnilip.  She  touched  on  the  blight  brought  on  her  domestic  happiness,  spoke 
with  a  strong  conviction  of  the  innocence  of  Montigny,  and  with  tears  and 
lamentations  implored  the  king,  by  the  consideration  of  his  past  services,  by 
the  passion  of  the  blessed  Saviour,  to  show  mercy  to  her  husband." 

Several  months  elapsed,  after  the  execution  of  the  Counts  Egmont  and 

16  This  fact  is  mentioned  in  a  letter  of  the  retiendra  en  prison,  car  ils  pcuvent  seryir  a 
ahaydi-  of  the  fortress,  giving  an  account  of  la  verification  de  quelque  point  du  proces  de 
the  affair  to  the   king.    Correspondance   de  Montigny    lui-meme."      Corn  spon< lance   de 
Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii.  p.  33.  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii.  p.  37. 

17  The  contents  of  the  paper  secreted  in  the  "  Meteren,  Hist,  des  Pays-Bas,  fol.  60. 
loaf  a;e  given  in   the  Etocumentos  ineditos,            *°  ""Etconsnmmee  en  larmes  et  pleurs  afin 
torn.  iv.  pp.  527-533. — The  latter  portion   of  que,    en    consideration    des    servic*  s    passes 
the  fourth  volume  of  this  valuable  collection  de  sondit  mari,  de  son  jeune  age  a  elle,  qui  n'a 
Is  occupied  with  Documents  relating  to  the  etc  en  la  compagnie  de  fon  niari  qu'environ 
imprisonment  and  death  of  Montigny,  drawn  quatre  mois,  et  de  la  passion  de  Jesus-Christ, 
from  the  Archives  of  Simancas,   and  never  S.  M.  veuille  lui  pardonner  les  fautes  qu'il 
before  communicated  to  the  public.  pourralt  avoir  commiRes."     Correspondence 

*•  "  II  n  •  lee  fera  point  execnt-r,  roais  il  les        de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii.  p.  94. 


HIS  PROCESS.  369 

Hoorne,  before  the  duke  commenced  proceedings  against  Montigny ;  and  it 
was  not  till  February,  1569,  that  the  licentiate  Salazar,  one  of  the  royal 
council,  was  sent  to  Segovia  in  order  to  interrogate  the  prisoner.  The  charges 
were  of  the  same  nature  with  those  brought  against  Egmont  and  Hoorne. 
Montigny  at  first,  like  them,  refused  to  make  any  reply, — standing  on  his 
rights  as  a  member  of  the  Golden  Fleece.  He  was,  however,  after  a  formal 
protest,  prevailed  on  to  waive  this  privilege.  The  examination  continued 
several  days.  The  various  documents  connected  with  it  are  still  preserved  in 
the  Archives  of  Simancas.  M.  Gachard  has  given  no  abstract  of  their  con- 
tents. But  that  sagacious  inquirer,  after  a  careful  perusal  of  the  papers, 
pronounces  Montigny's  answers  to  be  "  a  victorious  refutation  of  the  charges 
of  the  attorney -general."*1 

It  was  not  a  refutation  that  Philip  or  his  viceroy  wanted.  Montigny  was 
instantly  required  to  appoint  some  one  to  act  as  counsel  in  his  behalf.  But  no 
one  was  willing  to  undertake  the  business,  till  a  person  of  little  note  at  length 
consented,  or  was  rather  compelled  to  undertake  it  by  the  menaces  of  Alva." 
Any  man  might  well  have  felt  a  disinclination  for  an  office  which  must 
expose  him  to  the  ill  will  of  the  government,  with  little  chance  of  benefit  to 
his  client. 

Even  after  this,  Montigny  was  allowed  to  languish  another  year  in  prison 
before  sentence  was  passed  on  him  by  his  judges.  The  proceedings  of  the 
Council  of  Blood  on  this  occasion  were  marked  by  a  more  flagitious  contempt 
of  justice,  if  possible,  than  its  proceedings  usually  were.  The  duke,  in  a  letter 
of  the  eighteenth  of  March,  1570,  informed  the  king  of  the  particulars  of  the 
trial.  He  had  submitted  the  case,  not  to  the  whole  court,  but  to  a  certain 
number  of  the  councillors,  selected  by  him  for  the  purfx>se.M  He  does  not 
teil  on  what  principle  the  selection  was  made.  Philip  could  readily  divine  it. 
In  the  judgment  pi  the  majority,  Montigny  was  founa  guilty  of  high  treason. 
The  duke  accordingly  passed  sentence  of  death  on  him.  The  sentence  was 
dated  March  4th,  1570.  It  was  precisely  of  the  same  import  with  the 
sentences  of  Egmont  and  Hoorne.  It  commanded  that  Montigny  be  taken 
from  prison  and  publicly  beheaded  with  a  sword.  His  head  was  to  be  stuck 
on  a  pole,  there  to  remain  during  the  pleasure  of  his  majesty.  His  goods  and 
estates  were  to  be  confiscated  to  the  crown.24 

The  sentence  was  not  communicated  even  to  the  Council  of  Blood,  The 
only  persons  aware  of  its  existence  were  the  duke's  secretary  and  his  two 
trusty  councillors,  Vargas  and  Del  Rio.  Alva  had  kept  it  thus  secret  until 
he  should  learn  the  will  of  his  master."  At  the  same  time  he  intimated  to 
Philip  that  he  might  think  it  better  to  have  the  execution  take  place  in  Cas- 
tile, as  under  existing  circumstances  more  eligible  than  the  Netherlands. 

Philip  was  in  Andalusia,  making  a  tour  in  the  southern  provinces,  when 
the  despatches  of  his  viceroy  reached  him.  He  was  not  altogether  pleased 
with  their  tenor.  Not  that  he  had  any  misgivings  in  regard  to  the  sentence  ; 
for  he  was  entirely  satisfied,  as  he  wrote  to  Alva,  of  Montigny's  guilt.  '  But 
he  did  not  approve  of  a  public  execution.  Enough  blood,  it  might  be  thought 
in  the  Netherlands,  had  been  already  spilt ;  and  men  there  might  complain 

11  Oorrenpondance  de  Philippe  II.,  torn.  li.  535-537. 

p.  123.  note.  "  "  I'orqup  no  vln1<-*e  ii  notlcta  dc  nlnguno 

"  IH'I ,  p.  90.  de  In*  otriw  hasu  saber  la  voluntad  <1  •  V.  M." 

"  "  Vislo  el  proceao  por  nlKiinos  dr-1  Con-  Ibid.,  p.  S.J3. 

M>JO  de  S.  M.  de*t»A  nu*  E«lados  p»r  mi  nom-  "  "  AK{  que  conntando  tan  claro  d<>  «n  cul- 

ttradiM  para  el  dlibo  efecto."     Documentor  pas  y  deHctos,  en  cuanto  al  ho  ho  de  la  Jti«- 

inedit"*,  torn.  Iv  p.  535.  ticiu  n«  hatva  que  parar  man  de  niandarla 

"  The  sentence  may  be  found.  Ibid.,  pp.  rjecuUr."    Ibid  ,  p.  i3». 

2   B 


370  SECRET  EXECUTION  OF  MONTIGNY. 

that,  shut  up  in  a  foreign  prison  during  his  trial,  Montigny  had  not  met  with 
justice.27  There  were  certainly  some  grounds  for  such  a  complaint. 

Philip  resolved  to  defer  taking  any  decisive  step  in  the  matter  till  his  return 
to  the  north.  Meanwhile,  he  commended  Alvas  discretion  in  keeping  the 
sentence  secret,  and  charged  him  on  no  account  to  divulge  it,  even  to  members 
of  the  council. 

Some  months  elapsed  after  the  king's  return  to  Madrid  before  he  came  to  a 
decision, — exhibiting  the  procrastination  so  conspicuous  a  trait  in  him,  even 
among  a  people  with  whom  procrastination  was  no  miracle.  It  may  have 
been  that  he  was  too  much  occupied  with  an  interesting  affair  which  pressed 
on  him  at  that  moment.  About  two  years  before,  Philip  had  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  lose  his  young  and  beautiful  queen,  Isabella  of  the  Peace.  Her 
place  was  now  to  be  supplied  by  a  German  princess,  Anne  of  Austria,  his 
fourth  wife,  still  younger  than  the  one  he  had  lost.  She  was  already  on  her 
way  to  Castile ;  and  the  king  may  have  been  too  much  engrossed  by  his  pre- 
parations for  the  nuptial  festivities  to  have  much  thought  to  bestow  on  the 
concerns  of  his  wretched  prisoner. 

The  problem  to  be  solved  was  how  to  carry  the  sentence  into  effect  and  yet 
leave  the  impression  on  the  public  that  Montigny  had  died  a  natural  death. 
Most  of  the  few  ministers  whom  the  king  took  into  his  confidence  on  the 
occasion  were  of  opinion  that  it  would  be  best  to  bring  the  prisoner's  death 
about  by  means  of  a  slow  poison  administered  in  his  drink  or  some  article  of 
his  daily  food  This  would  give  him  time,  moreover,  to  provide  for  the  con- 
cerns of  his  soul.28  But  Philip  objected  to  this,  as  not  fulfilling  what  he  was 
pleased  to  call  the  ends  of  justice.29  He  at  last  decided  on  the  qarrote, — the 
form  of  execution  used  for  the  meaner  sort  of  criminals  in  Spain,  but  which, 
producing  death  by  suffocation,  would  be  less  likely  to  leave  its  traces  on 
the  body." 

To  accomplish  this,  it  would  be  necessary  to  remove  Montigny  from  the 
town  of  Segovia,  the  gay  residence  of  the  court,  and  soon  to  be  the  scene  of 
the  wedding  ceremonies,  to  some  more  remote  and  less  frequented  spot. 
Simancas  was  accordingly  selected,  whose  stern,  secluded  fortress  seemed  to 
be  a  fitting  place  for  the  perpetration  of  such  a  deed.  The  fortress  was  of 
great  strength,  and  was  encompassed  by  massive  walls,  and  a  wide  moat, 
across  which  two  bridges  gave  access  to  the  interior.  It  was  anciently  used 
as  a  prison  for  state  criminals.  Cardinal  Ximenes  first  conceived  the  idea  of 
turning  it  to  the  nobler  purpose  of  preserving  the  public  archives.*1  Charles 
the  Fifth  carried  this  enlightened  project  into  execution  ;  but  it  was  not  fully 

**  "  For  estar  aca  el  delincuento  que  dijeran  rope  tight  round  the  neck  of  the  criminal,  so 

que  se  babia  becbo  entre  compadres,  y  como  as  to  produce  suffocation.     This  is  done  by 

opreso,  sin  se  poder  defender  juridicamente."  turning  a  stick  to  which  the  rope  is  attached 

Documentos  ineditos,  torn.  iv.  p.  561.  behind  his  bend.     Instead  of  this  apparatus, 

M  "  Parescia  a  los  mas  que  era  bien  darle  an  iron  collar  is  more  frequently  employed 

nn  bocado  6  echar  algun  genero  de  veneno  en  in  modern  executions. 

la  aanida  6  bebida  con  que  se  fuese  muriendo  a'  This  is  established  by  a  letter  of  the 

poco  a  poco,  y  pudiese  componer  las  cosa-s  de  cardinal   himself,  in  which   he  requests  the 

BU  iinima  como  enfermo."     Ibid.,  ubi  supra.  king  to  command  all  officials  to  deliver  into 

*•  "Alas  a  S.  M.  parescifi  que  desta  manera  bis  hands  their  registers,   instruments,  and 

no  se  cumplia  con   la  justicia."    Ibid.,  nbi  public  documents   of  every  description, — to 

supra. — These  particulars  are  gathered  Irom  be  placed  in  these  archives,  that  they  may 

a  full  report  of   the  proceedings,   sent,   by  hereafter    be    preserved  from    injury.      His 

Philip's  orders,  to  the  duke  of  Alva,  Novem-  biographer  adds  that  few  of  these  documents 

ber  2nd,  1670.  — such    only  as    could    be    gleaned    by    the 

*•   The    garrote  is    still    nsed   in   capital  cardinal's  industry — reach  as  far  back  as  the 

punishments  in  Spain.     It  may   be  well  to  reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.    Quintinilla, 

mention,   for    the   information    of   some    of  Vida  de  Ximenes,  p.  264. 
my  readers,  thut  it  is  performed  by  drawing  a 


REMOVAL  TO  SIMANCAS.  371 

consummated  till  the  time  of  Philip,  who  prescribed  the  regulations,  and  made 
all  the  necessary  arrangements  for  placing  the  institution  on  a  permanent 
basis, — thus  securing  to  future  historians  the  best  means  for  guiding  their 
steps  through  the  dark  and  tortuous  passages  of  his  reign.  But  even  after 
this  change  in  its  destination  the  fortress  of  Simancas  continued  to  be  used 
occasionally  as  a  place  of  confinement  for  prisoners  of  state.  The  famous 
bishop  of  Zauiora,  who  took  so  active  a  part  in  the  war  of  the  comunidades, 
was  there  strangled  by  command  of  Charles  the  Fifth.  The  quarter  of  the 
building  in  which  he  suffered  is  still  known  by  the  name  oiuel  cubo  dtl 
obispo,  — "  The  Bishop's  Tower.''"  ** 

To  this  strong  place  Montigny  was  removed  from  Segovia,  on  the  nineteenth 
of  August,  1570,  under  a  numerous  guard  of  alguazils  and  arquebusiers.  For 
greater  security  he  was  put  in  irons,  a  superfluous  piece  of  cruelty,  from  which 
Philip,  in  a  letter  to  Alva,  thought  it  necessary  to  vindicate  himself,  as  having 
been  done  without  his  orders.*1  \Ve  might  well  imagine  that  the  last  ray  of 
hope  must  have  faded  away  in  Montigny's  bosom  as  he  entered  the  gloomy 
portals  of  his  new  abode.  Yet  hope,  as  we  are  assured,  did  not  altogether 
desert  him.  He  had  learned  that  Anne  of  Austria  had  expressed  much  sym- 
pathy for  his  sufferings.  It  was  but  natural  that  the  daughter  of  the  Emj  eror 
Maximilian  should  take  an  interest  in  the  persecuted  people  of  the  Nether- 
lands. It  was  even  said  that  she  promised  the  wife  and  stepmother  of  Mon- 
tigny to  make  his  liberation  the  first  boon  she  would  ask  of  her  husband  on 
coming  to  (Jastile.14  And  Montigny  cherished  the  fond  hope  that  the  influence 
of  the  young  bride  would  turn  the  king  from  his  purpose,  and  that  her  coming 
to  Castile  would  be  the  signal  for  his  liberation.  That  Anne  should  have 
yielded  to  such  an  illusion  is  not  so  strange,  for  she  had  never  seen  Philip  ; 
but  that  Montigny  should  have  been  beguiled  by  it  is  more  difficult  to  under- 
stand. 

In  his  new  quarters  he  was  treated  with  a  show  of  respect,  if  not  indul- 
gence. He  was  even  allowed  some  privileges.  Though  the  guards  were 
doubled  over  him,  he  was  permitted  to  have  his  own  servants,  and,  when  it 
suited  him,  to  take  the  fresh  air  and  sunshine  in  the  corridor. 

Early  in  October  the  young  Austrian  princess  landed  on  the  northern  shores 
of  the  kingdom,  at  Santander.  The  tidings  of  this  may  have  induced  the 
king  to  quicken  his  movements  in  regard  to  his  prisoner,  willing  perhaps  to 
relieve  himself  of  all  chance  of  importunity  from  his  bride,  as  well  as  from  the 
awkwardness  of  refusing  the  first  favour  she  should  request.  As  a  preliminary 
step,  it  would  be  necessary  to  abridge  the  liberty  which  Montigny  at  present 
enjoyed,  to  confine  him  to  his  apartment,  and,  cutting  off  his  communications 
even  with  those  in  the  castle,  to  spread  the  rumour  of  his  illness,  which  should 
prepare  the  minds  of  the  public  for  a  fatal  issue. 

To  furnish  an  apology  for  his  close  confinement,  a  story  was  got  up  of  an 
attempt  to  e>cape,  similar  to  what  had  actually  occurred  at  Segovia.  Peralta, 
alcayqe  of  the  fortress,  a  trustworthy  vassal,  to  whom  was  committed  the 
direction  of  the  affair,  addressed  a  letter  to  the  king,  enclosing  a  note  in 
Latin,  which  he  pretended  had  been  found  under  Montuiinrs  window,  con- 
taining sundry  directions  for  his  flight  The  fact  of  such  a  design,  the  writer 

"  M.  Gachard,  who  gives  us  some  Interest-  them. 

ing  particularx  of   the    ancient    fortress    of  "  "  A»(  lo  ctimplW  ponilndole  jrrlllo*  para 

Slinnncaa,  iiilbrniH  u*  that  this  tower  was  the  mayor  M-gtiridad,  antique  ei-to  fue  Bin  6nien. 

ncrne  of  tome  of  his  own  labours  there.      It  porque  ni  erto  en  nvnecter  ni  quid*  ra  S.  M. 

was  an  interesting  circumstance,  that  he  was  que  se  hubiera  bee  ho."    Dt  cunieulos  inedhos, 

thus    exploring  the    records   of  Montigny's  turn.  iv.  p.  561. 

sufferings  In  the  very  spot  which  wime;«ed  J*  Meteren.  Hist,  dea  Pays-Baa,  fol.  60. 


$72  SECRET  EXECUTION  OF   MONTIGNY. 

said,  was  corroborated  by  tbe  appearai.ce  of  certain  persons  in  the  disguise  of 
.friars  about  the  castle.  The  governor,  in  consequence,  had  1  een  obliged  to 
remove  his  prisoner  to  other  quarters,  of  greater  security.  He  was  accord- 
ingly lodged  in  the  Bishop's  Tower,— ominous  quarters  ! — where  he  was  no 
longer  allowed  the  attendance  of  his  own  domestics,  but  placed  in  strict  con- 
finement. Montigny  had  taken  this  proceeding  so  ill,  and  with  such  vehe- 
ment complaints  of  its  injustice,  that  it  had  brought  on  a  fever,  under  which 
he  was  now  labouring.  Peralta  concluded  by  expressing  his  regret  at  being 
forced  by  Montigny's  conduct  into  a  course  so  painful  to  himself,  as  he  would 
gladly  have  allowed  him  all  the  indulgence  compatible  with  his  own  honour.** 
This  letter,  which  had  all  been  concocted  in  the  cabinet  at  Madrid,  was  shown 
openly  at  court.  It  gained  easier  credit  from  the  fact  of  Montigny's  forn;er 
attempt  to  escape;  and  the  rumour  went  abroad  that  he  was  now  lying 
dangerously  ill. 

Early  in  October,  the  licentiate  Alonzo  de  Arellano  had  been  summoned 
from  Seville  and  installed  in  the  office  of  alcalde  of  thtf  chancery  of  Valla- 
dolid,  distant  only  two  leagues  from  Simancas.  Arellano  was  a  person  in 
whose  discretion  and  devotion  to  himself  Philip  knew  he  could  confide  ;  and 
to  him  he  now  intrusted  the  execution  of  Montigny.  Directions  for  the  cpime 
he  was  to  take,  as  well  as  the  precautions  he  was  to  use  to  prevent  suspicion, 
were  set  down  in  the  royal  instructions  with  great  minuteness.  They  must 
be  allowed  to  form  a  remarkable  document,  such  as  has  rarely  proceeded  from 
a  royal  pen.  The  alcalde  was  to  pass  to  Simancas,  and  take  with  him  a  notary, 
an  executioner,  and  a  priest.  The  last  should  be  a  man  of  undoubted  piety 
and  learning,  capable  of  dispelling  any  doubts  or  errors  that  might  unhappily 
have  arisen  in  Montigny's  mind  in  respect  to  the  faith.  Such  a  man  appeared 
to  be  Fray  Hernando  del  Castillo,  of  the  order  of  St.  Dominic,  in  Valladolid  ; 
and  no  better  person  could  have  been  chosen,  nor  one  more  open  to  those 
feelings  of  humanity  which  are  not  always  found  under  the  robe  of  the  friar. JS 

Attended  by  these  three  persons,  the  alcalde  left  Valladolid  soon  after 
nightfall  on  the  evening  of  the  fourteenth  of  October.  Peralta  had  been 
advised  of  his  coming  ;  and  the  little  company  were  admitted  into  the  castle 
so  cautiously  as  to  attract  no  observation.  The  governor  and  the  judge  at 
once  proceeded  to  Montigny's  apartment,  where  they  found  the  unhappy  man 
lying  on  his  pallet,  ill  not  so  much  of  the  fever  that  was  talked  of,  as  of  that 
sickness  of  the  heart  which  springs  from  hope  deferred.  When  informed  of 
his  sentence  by  Are'lano,  in  words  as  kind  as  so  cruel  a  communication  would 
permit,  he  was  wholly  overcome  by  it,  and  for  some  time  continued  in  a  state 
of  pitiable  agitation.  Yet  one  might  have  thought  that  the  warnings  he  had 
already  received  were  such  as  might  have  prepared  his  mind  in  some  degiee 
for  the  blow.  For  he  seems  to  have  been  in  the  condition  of  the  tenant  of 
one  of  those  inquisitorial  cells  in  Venice,  the  walls  of  which,  we  are  told,  were 
so  constructed  as  to  approach  each  other  gradually  every  day,  until  the 
wretched  inmate  was  crushed  between  them.  After  Montigny  had  sufficiently 
recovered  from  his  agitation  to  give  lieed  to  it,  the  sentence  was  read  to  him 
by  the  notary.  He  was  still  to  be  allowed  a  day  before  the  execution,  in  order 
to  gain  time,  as  Philip  had  said,  to  settle  his  affairs  with  heaven.  And 
although,  as  the  alcalde  added,  the  sentence  passed  on  him  was  held  by  the 
king  as  a  just  sentence,  yet,  in  consideration  of  his  quality,  his  majesty,  purely 

"  This   lying  letter,    dated    at    Simancas,  *•  The  instructions  delivered  to  the  licen- 

October  10th,  with  tbe  scrap  of  mongrel  Latin  tiatc  Don  Alonzo  de  Arellano  are  given  in 

which  it  enclosed,  may  be  found  in  the  Doca-  full,  Documentos  ineditos,  torn.  iv.  pp.  542- 

mentoe  ineilitos,  torn.  iv.  pp.  550-552.  549. 


HIS  LAST  MOMENTS.  373 

out  of  his  benignity  and  clemency,  was  willing  so  far  to  mitigate  it,  in  regard 
to  the  form,  as  to  allow  him  to  be  executed,  not  in  public,  but  in  secret,  thus 
saving  his  honour,  and  suggesting  the  idea  of  his  having  come  to  his  end  by  a 
natural  death.17  For  this  act  of  grace  Montigny  seems  to  have  been  duly 
grateful.  How  true  were  the  motives  assigned  for  it,  the  reader  can  determine. 

Having  thus  discharged  their  painful  office,  Arellano  and  the  governor  with- 
drew, and,  summoning  the  friar,  left  the  prisoner  to  the  spiritual  consolations 
he  so  much  needed.  What  followed,  we  have  from  Castillo  himself.  As  Mon- 
tigny's  agitation  subsided,  he  listened  patiently  to  the  exhortations  of  the 
good  father ;  and  when  at  length  restored  to  something  like  his  natural  com- 
posure, he  joined  with  him  earnestly  in  prayer.  He  then  confessed  and 
received  the  sacrament,  seeming  desirous  of  employing  the  brief  space  that  yet 
remained  to  him  in  preparation  for  the  solemn  change.  At  intervals,  when 
not  actually  occupied  with  his  devotions,  he  read  the  compositions  of  Father 
Luis  de  Granada,  whose  spiritualized  conceptions  had  often  solaced  the  hours 
of  his  captivity. 

Montigny  was  greatly  disturbed  by  the  rumour  of  his  having  been  shaken 
in  his  religious  principles  and  having  embraced  the  errors  of  the  Reformers. 
To  correct  this  impression,  he  briefly  drew  up,  with  his  own  hand,  a  confession 
of  faith,  in  which  he  avows  as  implicit  a  belief  in  all  the  articles  sanctioned  by 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  its  head,  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  as  Pius  the 
Fifth  himself  could  have  desired.1*  Having  thus  relieved  his  mind,  Montigny 
turned  to  some  temporal  affairs  which  he  was  desirous  to  settle.  They  did 
not  occupy  much  time.  For,  as  Philip  had  truly  remarked,  there  was  no 
occasion  for  him  to  make  a  will,  since  he  had  nothing  to  bequeath,— all  his 
property  having  been  confiscated  to  the  crown."  If,  however,  any  debt 
pressed  heavily  on  his  conscience,  he  was  to  be  allowed  to  indicate  it,  as  well 
as  any  provision  which  he  particularly  desired  to  make  for  a  special  purpose. 
This  was  on  the  condition,  however,  that  he  should  allude  to  himself  as  about 
to  die  a  natural  death.4* 

Montigny  profited  by  this  to  express  the  wish  that  masses,  to  the  number  of 
seven  hundred,  might  be  said  for  nis  soul,  that  sundry  sums  might  be  appro- 
priated to  private  uses,  and  that  some  gratuities  might  be  given  to  certain  of 
his  faithful  followers.  It  may  interest  the  reader  to  know  that  the  masses 
were  punctually  performed.  In  regard  to  the  pious  legacies,  the  king  wrote  to 
Alva,  he  must  first  see  if  Montigny's  estate  would  justify  the  appropriation  ; 
as  for  the  gratuities  to  servants,  they  were  wholly  out  of  the  question." 

One  token  of  remembrance,  which  he  placed  in  the  hands  of  Castillo,  doubt- 
less reached  its  destination.  This  was  a  gold  chain  of  delicate  workmanship, 
with  a  seal  or  signet  riii^  attached  to  it,  oearing  his  arms.  This  little  token 
he  requested  might  be  given  to  his  wife.  It  had  been  his  constant  companion 
ever  since  they  were  married  ;  and  he  wished  her  to  wear  it  in  memory  of  him, 


no  se  ejecutase  en  publlco,  sino  »1H  en  W«T-  to  permltlr  como  en   e»to  no  no  liaga  mencion 

por  vii  honor,  y  que  w  darla  a  entender  haher  algutia  de  la  Justicia  y  ejecuclon  que  tu>  hare, 

muerto  de  aquella  enfernmlad."    I>ocumen-  »lno  que  sea  ht-cho  como  memorial  dr>  hombre 

tos  Inedito*,  torn.  Iv.  p.  563.  enfermo  y  que  se  temia  morir."    ibid.,  ubl 

"  The  confeaxion  of  faith  may  be  found  in  supra, 
the  Documentor  inedlum,  torn.  Iv.  p.  553.  ••   "Quant  anx  mercedes  qu'll  a  ncrorde'- 

"  "SI  el  dlcho  Flores  de  Mcmorancf  qul-  II  n'y  a  pas  lieu  d'y  dinner  suite."     Con 

siea*  ordcnar  testamento  no  babri  para  que  spomlanc*;  de  Philippe  ll.,toni.  ii.  p.  169 


irre- 


374  SECRET  EXECUTION  OF  MONTIGNY. 

— expressing  at  the  same  time  his  regret  that  a  longer  life  had  not  been 
granted  him,  to  serve  and  honour  her.  As  a  dying  injunction,  he  besought 
her  not  to  be  entangled  by  the  new  doctrines  or  to  swerve  from  the  faith  of 
her  ancestors.  If  ever  Montigny  had  a  leaning  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Refor- 
mation, it  could  hardly  have  deepened  into  conviction ;  for  early  habit  and 
education  reasserted  their  power  so  entirely  at  this  solemn  moment  that  the 
Dominican  by  his  side  declared  that  he  gave  evidence  of  being  as  good  and 
Catholic  a  Christian  as  he  could  wish  to  be  himself.42  The  few  hours  in  which 
Montigny  had  thus  tasted  of  the  bitterness  of  death  seemed  to  have  done 
more  to  wean  him  from  the  vanities  of  life  than  the  whole  years  of  dreary 
imprisonment  he  had  passed  within  the  walls  of  Segovia  and  Simancas.  Yet 
we  shall  hardly  credit  the  friar's  assertion  that  he  carried  his  resignation  so  far 
that,  though  insisting  on  his  own  innocence,  he  admitted  the  sentence  of  his 
judges  to  be  just !  ° 

At  about  two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  sixteenth  of  October,  when  the 
interval  allowed  for  this  solemn  preparation  had  expired,  Father  Castillo 
waited  on  the  governor  and  the  alcalde,  to  inform  them  that  the  hour  had 
come,  and  that  their  prisoner  was  ready  to  receive  them.  They  went,  without 
further  delay,  to  the  chamber  of  death,  attended  by  the  notary  and  the 
executioner.  Then,  in  their  presence,  while  the  notary  made  a  record  of  the 
proceedings,  the  grim  minister  of  the  law  did  his  work  on  his  unresisting 
victim.44 

No  sooner  was  the  breath  out  of  the  body  of  Montigny  than  the  alcalde,  the 
priest,  and  their  two  companions  were  on  tneir  way  back  to  Valladolid,  reach- 
ing it  before  dawn,  so  as  to  escape  the  notice  of  the  inhabitants.  All  were 
solemnly  bound  to  secrecy  in  regard  to  the  dark  act  in  which  they  had  been 
engaged.  The  notary  and  the  hangman  were  still  further  secured  by  the 
menace  of  death  in  case  they  betrayed  any  knowledge  of  the  matter ;  and;  they 
knew  full  well  that  Philip  was  not  a  man  to  shrink  from  the  execution  of  his 
menaces." 

The  corpse  was  arrayed  in  a  Franciscan  habit,  which,  coming  up  to  the 
throat,  left  the  face  only  exposed  to  observation.  It  was  thus  seen  by 
Montigny's  servants,  who  recognized  the  features  of  their  master,  hardly  more 
distorted  than  sometimes  happens  from  disease,  when  the  agonies  of  death 
have  left  their  traces.  The  story  went  abroad  that  their  lord  had  died  of  the 
fever  with  which  he  had  been  so  violently  attacked. 

The  funeral  obsequies  were  performed,  according  to  the  royal  orders,  with 
all  due  solemnity.  The  vicar  and  beneficiaries  of  the  church  of  St.  Saviour 
officiated  on  the  occasion.  The  servants  of  the  deceased  were  clad  in  mourn- 
ing,— a  token  of  respect  recommended  by  Philip,  who  remarked,  the  servants 
were  so  few  that  mourning  might  as  well  be  given  to  them  ; 4S  and  he  was 
willing  to  take  charge  of  this  and"  the  other  expenses  of  the  funeral,  provided 

"  "  En  lo  nno  y  en  lo  otro  tuvo  las  demo-  hizo   fa  oflcio  dandole    parrote."     See   the 

straciones  de  catolico  y  buen  cristiano  qne  yo  account  of  Montinny's  death  despatched  to  the 

deseo  para  mi."    See  the  letter  of  Fray  Her-  duke  of  Alva.     It  was  written  in  cipher,  and 

nando  del  Castillo,  Documentos  ioeditos,  torn.  dated  November  2nd,  1570.    Ibid.,  p.  560,  et 

iv.  pp.  554-559.  seq. 

"  "  Fuele  creciendo  por  boras  el  deseneafio  •"  "  Poniendo  pena  de  muerte  &  \cs  diohos 

de  Li  vida,  la  paciencia,  el  snfrimipnto,  y  la  escribano  y    verdugo    si    lo    descubriesen." 

ronformldad  con  la  voluntad  de  Dios  y  de  su  Ibid.,  p.  564. 

Rey,  cuya  eentcncia  sienipre  alabo  por  justa,  ••  "  Y  no  seri  inconveniente  qne  se  de  luto 

mas  siempre  protestando  de  su  inocencia."  &  BUS  criados  pnes  son  pocos."     La  6rden  que 

Ibid.,  pp.  554-559.  ha  de  tener  el  Licenciado  D.  Alonzo  de  Arel- 

"  "  Y  acabada  HU  pWtica  y  de  encornrndarse  lauo,  ibid.,  p.  542,  et  seq. 
ii  Dios  todo  el  tiemj  o  que  quiso,  el  v>  rdugo 


HIS  LAST  MOMENTS.  375 

Montigny  had  not  left  money  sufficient  for  the  purpose.  The  place  selected 
for  his  burial  was  a  vault  under  one  of  the  chapels  of  the  building ;  and  a 
decent  monument  indicated  the  spot  where  reposed  the  ashes  of  the  last  of 
the  envoys  who  came  from  Flanders  on  the  Ul  starred  mission  to  Madrid." 

Such  is  a  true  account  of  this  tragical  affair,  as  derived  from  the  king's  own 
letters  and  those  of  his  agents.  Far  different  was  the  story  put  in  circulation 
at  the  time.  On  the  seventeenth  of  October,  the  day  after  Montigny's  death, 
despatches  were  received  at  court  from  Peralta,  the  alcayde  of  the  fortress. 
They  stated  that,  after  writing  his  former  letter,  his  prisoner's  fever  had  so 
much  increased  that  he  had  called  in  the  aid  of  a  physician  ;  and,  as  the 
symptoms  became  more  alarming,  the  latter  had  entered  into  a  consultation 
with  the  niedical  adviser  of  the  late  regent,  Joanna,  so  that  nothing  that 
human  skill  could  afford  should  be  wanting  to  the  patient.  He  grew  rapidly 
worse,  however,  and  as,  happily,  Father  Hernando  del  Castillo,  of  Valladolid, 
chanced  to  be  then  in  Simancas,  he  came  and  administered  the  last  consola- 
tions of  religion  to  the  dying  man.  Having  done  all  that  a  good  Christian  at 
such  a  time  should  do,  Montigny  expired  early  on  the  morning  of  the  sixteenth, 
manifesting  at  the  last  so  Catholic  a  spirit  that  good  hopes  might  be  enter- 
tained of  his  salvation.4* 

This  hypocritical  epistle,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  like  the  one  that 
preceded  it,  had  been  manufactured  at  Madrid.  Nor  was  it  altogether  devoid 
of  truth.  The  physician  of  the  place,  named  Viana,  had  been  called  in  ;  and 
it  was  found  necessary  to  intrust  him  with  the  secret.  Every  day  he  paid  his 
visit  to  the  castle,  and,  every  day  returned  with  more  alarming  accounts  of  the 
condition  of  the  patient ;  and  thus  the  minds  of  the  community  were  prepared 
for  the  fatal  termination  of  his  disorder.  Not  that,  after  ail,  this  was  un- 
attended with  suspicions  of  foul  play  in  the  matter,  as  people  reflected  how 
opportune  was  the  occurrence  of  such  an  event,  feut  suspicions  were  not 
proof.  The  secret  was  too  well  guarded  for  any  one  to  penetrate  the  veil  of 
mystery ;  and  the  few  who  were  oehind  that  veil  loved  their  lives  too  well  to 
raise  it 

Despatches  written  in  cipher,  and  containing  a  full  and  true  account  of  the 
affair,  were  sent  to  the  duke  of  Alva.  The  two  letters  of  Peralta,  which  indeed 
were  intended  for  the  meridian  of  Brussels  rather  than  of  Madrid,  were  for- 
warded with  them.  The  duke  was  told  to  show  them  incidentally,  as  it  were, 
without  obtruding  them  on  any  one's  notice,4'  that  Montigny's  friends  in  the 
Netherlands  might  be  satisfied  of  their  truth. 

In  his  own  private  communication  to  Alva,  Philip,  in  mentioning  the 
orthodox  spirit  manifested  by  his  victim  in  his  last  moments,  shows  that  with 
the  satisfaction  which  he  usually  expressed  on  such  occasions  was  mingled 
some  degree  of  skepticism.  "  If  his  inner  man,"  he  writes  of  Montigny, "  was 
penetrated  with  as  Christian  a  spirit  as  he  exhibited  in  the  outer,  and  as  the 
friar  who  confessed  him  has  reported,  God,  we  may  presume,  will  have  mercy 
on  his  soul."*8  In  the  ori«final  draft  of  the  letter,  as  prepared  by  the  king's 
secretary,  it  is  further  added,  "  Yet,  after  all,  who  can  tell  but  this  was  a 
delusion  of  Satan,  who,  as  we  know,  never  deserts  the  heretic  in  his  dying 

41  Docnmpntoe,  inedltos  torn.    Iv.  p.   540.  para  qtic  por  ellan  He  dlvuljnic  haber  fallescldo 

— Correcipondance  de   Philippe   II.,  torn.  II.  do  «u  rmu-rte  natural."    Ibid.,  p.  664. 

p.  159.  *•  "  Kl  cual  H)  en  lo  Intrri-  r  acab6  tan  criv 

**  Cnrta  de  D.  Eugenlo  de  Peralta  &  S.  M.,  tlanamente  como  lo  mustn't  en  lo  exterior  y  lo 

Simancas.  17  de  Ortubre,  1570,  Documentor  ha  referido  el  fralle  que  le  confeso1,  en  de  crecr 

Ineditoe,  torn.  iv.  p.  558.  que  se  habrf  apiadado   l>i<m  de  su  I'mlma." 

"  "  No  las  tnoRtrando de  propogito  ulno  dec-  Carta  de  S.  M.  al  Duque de  A Iba,  del  Lvcurial, 

cuidadamente  i  laa  pcnonas  que  paresciere,  4  3  de  Noviembre,  1670,  Ibid.,  p.  666. 


376  SECRET  EXECUTION  OF  MONTIGNY. 

hour?"  This  sentence — as  appears  from  the  manuscript  still  preperved  in 
Simancas— was  struck  out  by  Philip,  with  the  remark  in  his  own  hand,  "  Gnat 
this,  as  we  should  think  no  evil  of  the  dead  ! "  M 

Notwithstanding  this  magnanimous  sentiment,  Philip  lost  no  time  in 
publishing  Moutigny  to  the  world  as  a  traitor,  and  demanding  the  confiscation 
of  his  estates.  The  Council  of  Blood  learned  a  good  lesson  from  the  Holy 
Inquisition,  which  took  care  that  even  Death  should  not  defraud  it  of  its 
victims.  Proceedings  were  instituted  against  the  memory  of  Montigny,  as 
had  before  been  done  against  the  memory  of  the  marquis  of  Bergen.52  On 
the  twenty-second  of  March,  1571,  the  duke  of  Alva  pronounced  sentence, 
condemning  the  memory  of  Florence  de  Montmorency,  lord  of  Montigny,  as 
guilty  of  high  treason,  and  confiscating  his  goods  and  estates  to  the  use  of  the 
crown  ;  "  it  having  come  to  his  knowledge,  the  instrument  went  on  to  say, 
"  that  the  said  Montigny  had  deceased  by  natural  death  in  the  fortress  of 
Simancas,  where  he  had  of  late  been  held  a  prisoner  ! "  " 

The  proceedings  of  the  Council  of  Blood  against  Montigny  were  characterized, 
as  I  have  already  said,  by  greater  effrontery  and  a  more  flagrant  contempt  of 
the  common  forms  of  justice  than  were  usually  to  be  met  with  even  in  that 
tribunal.  A  bare  statement  of  the  facts  is  sufficient.  The  party  accused  was 
put  on  his  trial — if  trial  it  can  be  called — in  one  country,  while  he  was  held  in 
close  custody  in  another.  The  court  before  which  he  was  tried — or  rather  the 
jury,  for  the  council  seems  to  have  exercised  more  of  the  powers  of  a  jury 
than  of  a  judge — was  on  this  occasion  a  packed  body,  selected  to  suit  the 
purposes  of  the  prosecution.  Its  sentence,  instead  of  being  publicly  pro- 
nounced, was  confided  only  to  the  party  interested  to  obtain  it, — the  king. 
Even  the  sentence  itself  was  not  the  one  carried  into  effect ;  but  another  was 
substituted  in  its  place,  and  a  public  execution  was  supplanted  by  a  midnight 
assassination.  It  would  be  an  abuse  of  language  to  dignify  such  a  proceeding 
with  the  title  of  a  judicial  murder. 

Yet  Philip  showed  no  misgivings  as  to  his  own  course  in  the  matter.  He 
had  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  guilt  of  Montigny.  He  had  been  false  to  his 
king  and  false  to  his  religion, — offences  which  death  only  could  expiate.  Still 
we  find  Philip  resorting  to  a  secret  execution,  although  Alva,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  supposed  that  sentence  was  to  be  executed  on  Montigny  in  the  same  open 
manner  as  it  had  been  on  the  other  victims  of  the  bloody  tribunal.  But  the 
king  shrank  from  exposing  a  deed  to  the  public  eye  which,  independently  of 
its  atrocity  in  other  respects,  involved  so  flagrant  a  violation  of  good  faith 
towards  the  party  who  had  come,  at  his  sovereign's  own  desire,  on  a  public 
mission  to  Madrid.  With  this  regard  for  the  opinions  of  his  own  age,  it  may 
seem  strange  that  Philip  should  not  have  endeavoured  to  efface  every  vestige 
of  his  connection  with  tne  act,  by  destroying  the  records  which  established  it. 
On  the  contrary,  he  not  only  took  care  that  such  records  should  be  made,  but 
caused  them,  and  all  other  evidence  of  the  affair,  to  be  permanently  preserved 
in  the  national  archives.  There  they  lay  for  the  inspection  of  posterity,  which 
was  one  day  to  sit  in  judgment  on  his  conduct. 

"  "  Esto  mismo  borrad  de  la  cifra,  que  de  Troubles  des  Pays-Bas,  torn.  ii.  p.  235. 

IOB  muertos  no  hay  que  hacer  sino  bnen  jni-  "  "  Attendu  que  est  venu  4  sa  notice  qne 

cio."    Documeutos  ineditos,  torn.  iv.  p.  525,  ledict  de  Montigny  seroit  alle'de  vie  a  trespas, 

note.  par  mort  naturelle,  en  la  forteresse  de  Sy- 

'"  The  confiscated  estates  of  the  marquis  of  mancques,  on  il  ettoit  dernierement  detenu 

Bergen  were  restored  by  Philip  to  that  noble-  prisonier."    Correspondance  de  Philippe  11 , 

man's   heirs    in   1577.     See    Vandervynckt,  torn.  ii.  p.  171. 


In  the  part  of  this  History  which  relates  to        to  two  eminent  scholars  of  that  country.   The 
the  Netherlands,  I  have  been  greatly  indebted        first  o:  these,  M.  Qachard,  who  hf  •  the  care  of 


GACHARD  AND  GROEN. 


377 


the  royal  archives  of  Belgium,  was  commis- 
sion -U  by  big  government,  in  1844,  to  visit  the 
Prtimsula  f  >r  the  purpose  of  collecting  mate- 
rials &>r  the  illustration  of  the  nation  il  history. 
The  most  important  theatre  of  his  labours  was 
Sinmncas,  which,  till  the  time  of  hU  visit,  had 
been  carefully  closed  to  natives  us  well  as 
foreigners.  M.  Gacbard  profited  by  the  more 
liberal  arrangements  which,  under  certain 
restrictions,  opened  its  historical  treasures  to 
the  student.  The  result  of  his  labours  he  is 
now  git  ing  to  the  world  by  the  publication  of 
his  "  Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.,"  of 
which  two  volumes  have  aln-ady  been  printed. 
The  work  is  published  in  a  beautiful  form, 
worthy  of  the  auspices  under  which  it  has 
appeared.  It  consists  chiefly  of  the  corre- 
spondence carried  on  by  the  Spanish  govern- 
ment and  the  authorities  of  the  Netherlands 
in  the  reign  of  Philip  the  Second, — the  revo- 
lutionary age,  and  of  course  the  most  eventful 
period  of  their  history.  The  official  despatches, 
written  in  French,  are,  it  is  true,  no  longer  to 
be  found  in  Simaucas,  whence  they  were 
removed  to  Brussels  on  the  accession  of  Albert 
and  Isabella  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  Low 
Countries.  Rut  a  large  mass  ol  corr  spondt/nce 
which  passed  between  the  court  of  Castile  and 
t  I-  Netherlands  is  still  preserved  in  the  Span- 
ish archives.  As  it  is,  lor  the  most  part,  of  a 
confidential  nature,  containing  strictures  on 
men  and  things  intended  only  for  the  eyes  of 
the  parties  to  it,  it  is  of  infinite  value  to  the 
historian.  Not  only  has  it  never  before  been 
published,  but,  with  the  exception  of  a  portion 
which  passed  under  the  review  of  the  Italian 
Strada,  it  has  never  been  submitted  to  the 
inspection  of  the"  scholar.  With  the  aid  of 
this  rich  collection,  the  historian  is  enabled  to 
enter  into  many  details,  hitherto  unknown,  of 
a  personal  nature,  relating  to  the  actors  in  the 
great  drama  of  tli-  revolution,  as  well  as  to 
disclose  some  of  the  secret  springs  of  their 
policy. 

M.  Gachard  has  performed  bis  editorial 
duties  with  conscientiousness  and  ability.  In 
a  subsequent  volume  he  proposes  to  give  the 
entire  text  of  the  more  inipo  taut  letters ;  but 
in  tlie  two  already  published  he  has  confined 
hi  nself  to  an  analysis  of  their  contents,  more 
or  leM  ext-ndt-d,  according  to  circumstances, 
lie  has  added  explanatory  notes,  and  prefixed 
to  the  whole  a  copious  d. sanitation,  presenting 
a  view  of  the  politics  of  the  <.'a.itilia:i  court, 
nnd  of  the  characters  ol  the  king  and  the  great 
oftic- rs  o  state.  As  the  writer's  Information 
is  d'-rived  from  sources  the  mo-t  Authentic  as 
u'-ll  as  the  least  accessible  to  scholars,  hi* 
preliminary  essay  deserves  to  he  carefully 
studied  by  the  historian  of  the  Netherlands. 

M.  Uacbard  has  further  claims  to  the  griti- 
tude  of  every  lover  of  letters  by  various  con- 
tributions in  other  forms  which  he  has  made 
to  the  Illustration  of  the  national  history. 
Among  these  his  "  Correspondance  dc  Guil- 
laume  le  Taclturne,"  of  which  three  volumes 
in  octavo  have  air  ady  appeared,  lias  been 
friely  used  by  me.  It  coaiUU  vt  a  collection 


of  William's  correspondence,  industriously 
gathered  irom  various  quarters.  The  letters 
differ  from  one  another  as  widely  in  value  as 
might  naturally  be  expected  in  so  large  and 
miscellaneous  a  collection. 

The  other  scholar  by  whose  editorial  labours 
I  have  profited  iu  this  part  of  my  work  is  M. 
Groen  van  Prinsterer.  His  voluminous  pub- 
lication, "  Archives  de  la  Maison  d'Orauge- 
Nassau,"  the  first  series  of  which  embraces 
the  times  of  William  the  Silent,  Is  derived 
from  the  private  collection  of  the  king  of 
Holland.  The  contents  are  various,  but  con- 
sist chiefly  of  letters  from  persons  who  took  a 
prominent  part  in  the  conduct  of  affairs. 
Their  correspondence  embraces  a  miscella- 
neous range  of  topics,  and  with  those  of  public 
Interest  combines  others  strictly  personal  in 
their  details,  thus  bringing  into  strong  relief 
the  characters  of  the  most  eminent  actors  on 
the  great  political  theatre.  A  living  interest 
attaches  to  this  correspondence,  which  we  shall 
look  for  in  vain  in  the  colder  pages  of  the 
historian.  History  gives  us  the  acts,  but 
letters  like  these,  in  which  the  actors  speak 
for  themselves,  give  us  the  thoughts,  of  the 
individual. 

M.  Uroen  has  done  bis  part  of  the  work 
well,  adhering  to  the  origin. il  text  with  scru- 
pulous fidelity,  and  presenting  us  the  letters 
in  the  various  languages  in  which  they  were 
written.  The  interstices,  so  to  speak,  between 
the  different  parts  of  the  correspondence,  are 
skilfully  filled  up  l>y  the  editor,  so  as  to  con- 
nect the  incongruous  materials  into  a  well- 
compacted  fabric.  In  conducting  what,  as  far 
as  he  is  concerned,  may  b  •  termed  the  original 
part  of  his  work,  the  editor  has  shown  much 
discretion,  gathering  information  Irom  colla- 
teral contemporary  sources ;  and,  by  the  side- 
lights he  has  thus  thrown  over  the  path,  he 
has  greatly  facilitated  the  progress  of  the 
student  and  enabled  him  to  take  a  survey  of 
the  whole  historical  ground.  The  editor  is  at 
no  pains  to  conceal  hi-  own  opinions  ;  and  we 
have  no  difficulty  in  determining  the  religious 
sect  to  which  hi-  belongs.  But  it  is  not  the 
less  true  that  he  is  ready  to  render  justice  to 
the  opinions  of  others  and  that  he  is  entitled 
to  the  praise  of  having  execute  I  his  task  with 
impartiality. 

One  may  notice  a  peculiarity  In  the  criticisms 
of  bvth  (irocn  and  Gachard.  the  more  reuiark- 
nMc  considering  the  nations  to  which  tney 
belong;  that  is,  the  solicitude  they  manliest 
to  place  the  most  favourable  construction  on 
th  •  conduct  of  Philip,  and  to  vindicate  his 
memory  from  the  wholesale  charges  co  often 
hrouglit  against  him,  of  a  systematic  attempt 
to  overturn  the  libc-rtlrs  of  the  Netherlands 
The  reader,  even  should  he  not  always  feel 
the  cogency  of  their  arguments,  will  not 
refuse  bis  admiration  to  the  candour  of  the 
critics. 

There  Is  a  third  publication,  recently  issued 
from  the  press  in  (irussels,  which  contains,  in 
the  compass  of  n  single  volume,  materials  of 
much  Importance  f  r  the  history  of  the  Nether- 


378 


REIFFENBERG. 


lands.  This  is  the  "  Corrcspondance  de 
Marguerite  d'Autriche,"  by  the  late  Baron 
I.eiffenberg.  Jt  is  a  part  of  the  French  cor- 
respondence which,  as  I  have  mentioned  above, 
was  transferred,  in  the  latter  part  of  Philip 
the  Second's  reign,  from  Simancas  to  Brussels, 
but  which,  instead  of  remaining  there,  was 
removed,  alter  the  country  had  passfnl  under 
the  Austrian  sceptre,  to  the  imperial  library 
of  Vienna,  where  it  exists,  in  all  probability, 
at  the  present  day.  Some  fragments  of  this 
correspondence  escaped  the  fate  which  at- 
tended the  bulk  of  it;  and  it  is  gleanings 


from  these  which  Reiffenberg  has  given  to  the 
world. 

That  country  is  fortunate  which  can  com- 
mand the  services  of  such  men  as  these  for  the 
illustration  of  its  national  annals, — men  who 
with  singular  enthusiasm  for  their  task  com- 
bine the  higher  qualifications  of  scholarship, 
and  a  talent  for  critical  analysis.  By  their 
persevering  labours  the  rich  ore  has  been 
drawn  from  the  mines  where  it  had  lain  in 
darkness  for  ages.  It  now  waits  only  for  the 
hand  of  the  artist  to  convert  it  into  coin  and 
give  it  a  popular  currency. 


BOOK   IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

Condition  of  Turkey— African  Corsairs— Expedition  against  Tripoli— War  on  the  Barbwy 

Coast. 

1559-1563. 

THERE  are  two  methods  of  writing  history, — one  by  following  down  the  stream 
of  time  and  exhibiting  events  in  their  chronological  order,  the  other  by  dis- 
posing of  these  events  according  to  their  subjects.  The  former  is  the  most 
obvious ;  and  where  the  action  is  simple  and  continuous,  as  in  biography,  for 
the  most  part,  or  in  the  narrative  of  some  grand  historical  event,  which  con- 
centrates the  interest,  it  is  probably  the  best.  But  when  the  story  is  more 
complicated,  covering  a  wide  field  and  embracing  great  variety  of  incident,  the 
chronological  system,  however  easy  for  the  writer,  becomes  tedious  and  un- 
profitable to  the  reader.  He  is  hurried  along  from  one  scene  to  another  with- 
out fully  apprehending  any  ;  and  as  the  thread  of  the  narrative  is  perpetually 
broken  by  sudden  transition,  he  carries  off  only  such  scraps  in  his  memory  as 
it  is  hardly  possible  to  >veave  into  a  connected  and  consistent  whole.  Yet  this 
method,  as  the  most  simple  and  natural,  is  the  one  most  affected  by  the  early 
writers, — by  the  old  Castilian  chronicles  more  particularly,  who  form  the 
principal  authorities  in  the  present  work.  Their  wearisome  pages,  mindful  of 
no  order  but  that  of  time,  are  spread  over  as  miscellaneous  a  range  of  incidents, 
and  having  as  little  relation  to  one  another,  as  the  columns  of  a  newspaper. 

To  avoid  this  inconvenience,  historians  of  a  later  period  have  preferred  to 
conduct  their  story  on  more  philosophical  principles,  having  regard  rather  to 
the  nature  of  the  events  described  than  to  the  precise  time  of  their  occurrence. 
And  thus  the  reader,  possessed  of  one  action,  its  causes  and  its  consequences, 
before  passing  on  to  another,  ia  enabled  to  treasure  up  in  his  memory  distinct 
imoressions  of  the  whole. 

In  conformity  to  this  plan,  I  have  detained  the  reader  in  the  Netherlands 
until  he  had  seen  the  close  of  Margaret's  administration,  and  the  policy  which 
mirked  the  commencement  of  her  successor's.  During  this  period,  Spain  was 
at  peace  with  her  European  neighbours,  most  of  whom  were  too  much  occupied 
with  their  domestic  dissensions  to  have  leisure  for  foreign  war.  France,  in 
particular,  was  convulsed  by  religious  feuds,  in  which  Philip,  as  the  champion 
of  the  Faith,  took  not  only  the  deepest  interest,  but  an  active  part.  To  this 
I  shall  return  hereafter. 

But,  while  at  peace  with  her  Christian  brethren,  Spain  was  engaged  in  per- 
petual hostilities  with  the  Moslems,  both  of  Africa  and  Asia.  The  relations  of 


380  THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

Europe  with  the  East  were  altogether  different  in  the  sixteenth  century  from 
what  they  are  in  our  day.  The  Turkish  power  lay  like  a  dark  cloud  on  the 
Eastern  horizon,  to  which  every  eye  was  turned  with  apprehension  ;  and  the 
same  people  for  whose  protection  European  nations  are  now  willing  to  make 
common  cause  were  viewed  by  them,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  in  the  light  of 
a  common  enemy. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Islamism  that,  as  the  standard  of  the  Prophet  was  fall- 
ing from  the  feeble  grasp  of  the  Arabs,  it  was  caught  up  by  a  nation  like  the 
Turks,  whose  fiery  zeal  urged  them  to  bear  It  still  onward  in  the  march  of 
victory.  The  Turks  were  to  the  Arabs  what  the  Romans  were  to  the  Greeks. 
Bold,  warlike,  and  ambitious,  they  had  little  of  that  love  of  art  which  had  been 
the  dominant  passion  of  their  predecessors,  and  still  less  of  that  refinement 
which,  with  the  Arabs,  had  degenerated  into  effeminacy  and  sloth.  Their  form 
of  government  was  admirably,  suited  to  their  character.  It  was  an  unmixed 
despotism.  The  sovereign,  if  not  precisely  invested  with  the  theocratic 
character  of  the  caliphs,  was  hedged  round  with  so  much  sanctity  that  resist- 
ance to  his  authority  was  an  offence  against  religion  as  well  as  law.  He  was 
placed  at  an  immeasurable  distance  above  his  subjects.  No  hereditary  aris- 
tocracy was  allowed  to  soften  the  descent  and  interpose  a  protecting  barrier 
for  the  people.  All  power  was  derived  from  the  sovereign,  and,  on  the  death  of 
its  proprietor,  returned  to  him.  In  the  eye  of  the  sultan,  his  vas&als  were  all 
equal,  and  all  equally  his  slaves. 

The  theory  of  an  absolute  government  would  seem  to  imply  perfection  in  the 
head  of  it.  But,  as  perfection  is  not  the  lot  of  humanity,"  it  was  prudently 
provided  by  the  Turkish  constitution  that  the  sultan  should  have  the  benefit 
of  a  council  to  advise  him.  It  consisted  of  three  or  four  great  officers, 
appointed  by  himself,  with  the  grand  vizier  at  their  head.  This  functionary 
was  possessed  of  an  authority  far  exceeding  that  of  the  prime  minister  of  any 
European  prince.  All  the  business  of  state  may  be  said  to  have  passed  through 
his  hands.  The  persons  chosen  for  this  high  office  were  usually  men  of 
capacity  and  experience ;  and  in  a  weak  reign  they  served  by  their  large 
authority  to  screen  the  incapacity  of  the  sovereign  f  j  om  the  eyes  of  his  subjects, 
while  they  preserved  the  state  from  detriment.  It  might  be  thought  that 
powers  so  vast  as  those  bestowed  on  the  vizier  might  have  rendered  him  for- 
midable, if  not  dangerous,  to  his  master.  But  his  master  was  placed  as  far 
above  him  as  above  the  meanest  of  his  subjects.  He  had  unlimited  power  of 
life  and  death  ;  and  how  little  he  was  troubled  with  scruples  in  the  exercise  of 
this  power  is  abundantly  shown  in  history.  The  bow-string  was  too  often  the 
only  warrant  for  the  deposition  of  a  minister. 

But  the  most  remarkable  of  the  Turkish  institutions,  the  one  which  may  be 
said  to  have  formed  the  keystone  of  the  system,  was  that  relating  to  the  Chris- 
tian population  of  the  empire.  Once  in  five  years  a  general  conscription  was 
made,  by  means  of  which  all  the  children  of  Christian  parents  who  had  reached 
the  age  of  seven,  and  gave  promise  of  excellence  in  mind  or  body,  were  taken 
from  their  homes  and  brought  to  the  capital.  They  were  then  removed  to 
different  quarters,  and  placed  in  seminaries  where  they  might  receive  such 
instruction  as  would  fit  them  for  the  duties  of  life.  Those  giving  greatest 
promise  of  strength  and  endurance  were  sent  to  places  prepared  for  them  in 
Asia  Minor.  Here  they  were  subjected  to  a  severe  training,  to  abstinence,  to 
privations  of  every  kind,  and  to  the  strict  discipline  which  should  fit  them  for 
the  profession  of  a  soldier.  From  this  body  was  formed  the  famous  corps  of 
the  janizaries. 

Another  portion  were  placed  in  schools  in  the  capital  or  the  neighbouring 


CONDITION  OF  TURKEY.  381 

cities,  where,  under  the  eye  of  the  snltan,  as  it  were,  they  were  taught  various 
manly  accomplishments,  with  such  a  smattering  of  science  as  Turkish,  or 
rather  Arabian,  scholarship  could  supply.  When  their  education  was  finished, 
some  went  into  the  sultan  s  body-guard,  where  a  splendid  provision  was  made 
for  their  maintenance.  Others,  intended  for  civil  life,  entered  on  a  career 
which  might  lead  to  the  highest  offices  in  the  state. 

As  all  these  classes  of  Christian  youths  were  taken  from  their  parents  at 
that  tender  age  when  the  doctrines  of  their  own  faith  could  hardly  have  taken 
root  in  their  minds,  they  were  without  difficulty  won  over  to  the  faith  of  the 
Koran  ;  which  was  further  commended  to  their  choice  as  the  religion  of  the 
state,  the  only  one  which  opened  to  them  the  path  of  preferment.  Thus  set 
apart  from  the  rest  of  the  community,  and  cherished  by  royal  favour,  the  new 
converts,  as  they  rallied  round  the  throne  of  their  sovereign,  became  more 
stanch  in  their  devotion  to  his  interests,  as  well  as  to  the  interests  of  the 
religion  they  had  adopted,  than  even  the  Turks  themselves. 

This  singular  institution  bore  hard  on  the  Christian  population,  who  paid 
this  heavy  tax  of  their  own  offspring.  But  it  worked  well  for  the  monarchy, 
which,  acquiring  fresh  vigour  from  the  constant  infusion  of  new  blood  into  its 
veins,  was  slow  in  exhibiting  any  signs  of  decrepitude  or  decay. 

The  most  important  of  these  various  classes  was  that  of  the  janizaries,  whose 
di.-cipline  was  far  from  terminating  with  the  school.  Indeed,  their  whole  life 
may  be  said  to  have  been  passed  in  war,  or  in  preparation  for  it.  Forbidden 
to  marry,  they  had  no  families  to  engage  their  affections,  which,  as  with  the 
monks  and  friars  in  Christian  countries,  were  concentrated  on  their  own  order, 
whose  prosperity  was  inseparably  connected  with  that  of  the  state.  Proud  of 
the  privileges  which  distinguished  them  froni  the  rest  of  the  army,  they  seemed 
desirous  to  prove  their  title  to  them  by  their  thorough  discipline  and  by  their 
prymptness  to  execute  the  most  dangerous  and  difhcult  services.  Their  post 
was  always  the  post  of  danger.  It  was  their  proud  vaunt  that  they  had  never 
fled  before  an  enemy.  Clad  in  their  flowing  robes,  so  little  suited  to  the  war- 
rior, armed  with  the  arquebuse  and  the  scimitar,— in  their  hands  more  than  a 
match  for  the  pike  or  sword  of  the  European, — with  the  heron's  plume  waving 
above  their  heads,  their  dense  array  might  ever  be  seen  bearing  down  in  the 
thickest  of  the  fight ;  and  more  than  once,  when  the  fate  of  the  empire 
trembled  in  the  balance,  it  was  this  invincible  corps  that  turned  the  scale  and 
by  their  intrepid  conduct  decided  the  fortune  of  the  day.  Gathering  fre.-h 
reputation  with  age,  so  long  as  their  discipline  remained  unimpaired  they 
verea  match  for  the  best  soldiers  of  Europe.  But  in  time  this  admirable 
organization  experienced  a  change.  One  sultan  allowed  them  to  many  ; 
another,  to  bring  their  sons  into  the  corps  ;  a  third  opened  the  ranks  to  Turks 
as  well  as  Christians ;  until,  forfeiting  their  peculiar  character,  the  janizaries 
became  confounded  with  the  militia  of  the  emjire.  These  changes  occumd 
in  the  time  of  Philip  the  Second  ;  but  their  consequences  were  not  fully 
unfolded  till  the  following  century.1 

It  was  fortunate  for  the  Turks,  considering  the  unlimited  power  lodged  in 
the  hands  of  their  rulers,  that  these  should  have  so  often  been  possessed  of  the 
courage  and  capacity  for  using  it  for  the  advancement  of  the  nation.  From 

1  For  th*  preceding  pa^e*  I  have  tven  in-  mainly  does  on  the  contemporary  reports  of 

il  -lit'-ii.    among   oiln-r    suurces,   to  Sagrrdo,  the  Venetian  nnnlHteiH,  IK  »t  the  nnu>t  au- 

•'  Memunaa     histories*    ile      Ion     Muiiarcaa  thontlc  chur«cter ;  while  be  has  the  rare  talent 

(>i   oiiianoH"     (trad.     Cant.,    Madrid,     16*4),  ofwlcctlng  f;irt«  «o  ftlfrniricaiit  for  hixtoriral 

mid     to    Ranke,     "Ottoman     and    Spanlun  I  ln«trationt'  att'iey  srrvelhe  double  purpose 

Empire*;"  to  the  !«tt«r  in  particular.    The  of  both  facts  and  reflections, 
work  of  this  eminent  scholar,  resting  as  it 


382  THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

Othman  the  First,  the  founder  of  the  dynasty,  to  Solyman  the  Magnificent, 
the  contemporary  of  Philip,  the  Turkish  throne  was  filled  by  a  succession  of 
able  princes,  who,  bred  to  war,  were  every  year  enlarging  the  boundaries  of 
the  empire  and  adding  to  its  resources.  By  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  besides  their  vast  possessions  in  Asia,  they  held  the  eastern  portions 
of  Africa.  In  Europe,  together  with  the  countries  at  this  day  acknowledging 
their  sceptre,  they  were  masters  of  Greece  ;  and  Solyman,  overrunning  Tran- 
sylvania and  Hungary,  had  twice  carried  his  victorious  banners  up  to  the  walls 
of  Vienna.  The  battle-ground  of  the  Cross  and  the  Crescent  was  transferred 
from  the  west  to  the  east  of  Europe  ;  and  Germany  in  the  sixteenth  century 
became  what  Spain  and  the  Pyrenees  had  been  in  the  eighth,  the  bulwark  of 
Christendom. 

Nor  was  the  power  of  Turkey  on  the  sea  less  formidable  than  on  the  land. 
Her  fleet  rode  undisputed  mistress  of  the  Levant ;  for  Venice,  warned  by  the 
memorable  defeat  at  Prevesa  in  1538,  and  by  the  loss  of  Cyprus  and  other 
territories,  hardly  ventured  to  renew  the  contest.  That  wily  republic  found 
that  it  was  safer  to  trust  to  diplomacy  than  to  arms,  in  her  dealings  with  the 
Ottomans. 

The  Turkish  navy,  sweeping  over  the  Mediterranean,  combined  with  the 
corsairs  of  the  Barbary  coast, — who,  to  some  extent,  owed  allegiance  to  the 
Porte, — and  made  frequent  descents  on  the  coasts  of  Italy  and  Spain,  com- 
mitting worse  ravages  than  those  of  the  hurricane.  From  these  ravages 
France  only  was  exempt ;  for  her  princes,  with  an  unscrupulous  policy  which 
caused  general  scandal  in  Christendom,  by  an  alliance  with  the  Turks,  pro- 
tected her  territories  somewhat  at  the  expense  of  her  honour. 

The  northern  coast  of  Africa,  at  this  time,  was  occupied  by  various  races, 
who,  however  they  may  have  differed  in  other  respects,  all  united  in  obedience 
to  the  Koran.  Among  them  was  a  large  infusion  of  Moors  descended  from  the 
Arab  tribes  who  had  once  occupied  the  south  of  Spain,  and  who,  on  its  recon- 
quest  by  the  Christians,  had  fled  that  country  rather  than  renounce  the 
religion  of  their  fathers.  Many  even  of  the  Moors  then  living  were  among  the 
victims  of  this  religious  persecution  ;  and  they  looked  with  longing  eyes  on 
the  beautiful  land  of  their  inheritance,  and  with  feelings  of  unquenchable 
hatred  on  the  Spaniards  who  had  deprived  them  of  it. 

The  African  shore  was  studded  with  towns, — some  of  them,  like  Algiers, 
Tunis,  Tripoli,  having  a  large  extent  of  territory  adjacent, — which  ownea  the 
sway  of  some  Moslem  chief,  who  ruled  them  in  sovereign  state,  or,  it  might  be, 
acknowledging,  for  the  sake  of  protection,  a  qualified  allegiance  to  the  Sultan. 
These  rude  chiefs,  profiting  by  their  maritime  position,  followed  the  dreadful 
trade  of  the  corsair.  Issuing  from  their  strongholds,  they  fell  on  the  unpro- 
tected merchantman,  or,  descending  on  the  opposite  coasts  of  Andalusia  and 
Valencia,  sacked  the  villages  and  swept  off  the  wretched  inhabitants  into 
slavery. 

The  Castilian  government  did  what  it  could  for  the  protection  of  its  subjects. 
Fortified  posts  were  established  along  the  shores.  Watch-towers  were  raised 
on  the  heights,  to  give  notice  of  the  approach  of  an  enemy.  A  fleet  of  galleys, 
kept  constantly  on  duty,  rode  off  the  coasts  to  intercept  the  corsairs.  The  war 
was  occasionally  carried  into  the  enemy's  country.  Expeditions  were  fitted 
out  to  sweep  the  Barbary  shores  or  to  batter  down  the  strongholds  of  the 
pirates.  Other  states,  whose  territories  bordered  on  the  Mediterranean,  joined 
in  these  expeditions ;  among  them  Tuscany,  Rome,  Naples,  Sicily, — the  two 
last  the  dependencies  of  Spain, — and  above  all  Genoa,  whose  hardy  seamen 
did  good  service  in  these  maritime  wars.  To  these  should  be  added  the 


AFRICAN  CORSAIRS.  383 

Knights  of  St.  John,  whose  little  island  of  Malta,  with  its  iron  defences,  boldly 
bidding  defiance  to  the  enemy,  was  thrown  into  the  very  jaws,  as  it  were,  of 
the  African  coast.  Pledged  by  their  vows  to  perpetual  war  with  the  infidel, 
these  brave  knights,  thus  stationed  on  the  outposts  of  Christendom,  were  the 
first  to  sound  the  alarm  of  an  invasion,  as  they  were  foremost  to  repel  it. 

The  Mediterranean  in  that  day  presented  a  very  different  spectacle  from 
what  it  shows  at  present, — swarming,  as  it  does,  with  the  commerce  of  many 
a  distant  land,  and  its  shores  glittering  with  towns  and  villages  that  echo  to 
the  sounds  of  peaceful  and  protected  industry.  Long  tracts  of  deserted  terri- 
tory might  then  be  seen  on  its  borders,  with  the  blackened  ruins  of  many  a 
hamlet,  proclaiming  too  plainly  the  recent  presence  of  the  corsair.  The 
condition  of  the  peasantry  of  the  south  of  Spain,  in  that  day,  was  not  unlike 
that  of  our  New  England  ancestors,  whose  rural  labours  might  at  any  time 
be  broken  by  the  war-whoop  of  the  savage,  as  he  burst  on  the  peaceful  settle- 
ment, sweeping  off  its  wretched  inmates — those  whom  he  did  not  massacre — 
to  captivity  in  the  wilderness.  The  trader,  instead  of  pushing  out  to  sea, 
crept  timidly  along  the  shore,  under  the  protecting  wings  of  its  fortresses, 
fearful  lest  the  fierce  enemy  might  dart  on  him  unawares  and  bear  him  off'  to 
the  dungeons  of  Africa.  Or,  if  he  ventured  out  into  the  open  deep,  it  was 
under  a  convoy  of  well-armed  galleys,  or,  armed  to  the  teeth  himself,  pre- 
pared for  war. 

Scarcely  a  day  passed  without  some  conflict  between  Christian  and  Moslem 
on  the  Mediterranean  waters.  Not  uiifrequently,  instead  of  a  Moor,  the 
command  was  intrusted  to  some  Christian  renegade,  who,  having  renounced 
his  country  and  his  religion  for  the  roving  life  of  a  corsair,  felt,  like  most 
apostates,  a  keener  hatred  than  even  its  natural  enemies  for  the  land  he  had 
abjured.*  In  these  encounters  there  were  often  displayed,  on  both  sides,  such 
deeds  of  heroism  as,  had  they  been  informed  on  a  wider  theatre  of  action, 
would  have  covered  the  actors  with  immortal  glory.  By  this  perpetual  war- 
fare a  race  of  hardy  and  experienced  seamen  was  formed  in  the  countries 
bordering  on  the  Mediterranean  ;  and  more  than  one  name  rose  to  eminence 
for  nautical  science  as  well  as  valour,  with  which  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find 
a  parallel  in  other  quarters  of  Christendom.  Such  were  the  Dorias  of  Genoa, 
— a  family  to  whom  the  ocean  seemed  their  native  element,  and  whose 
brilliant  achievements  on  its  waters,  through  successive  generations,  shed 
an  undying  lustre  on  the  arms  of  the  republic. 

The  corsair's  life  was  full  of  maritime  adventure.  Many  a  tale  of  tragic 
interest  was  told  of  his  exploits,  and  many  a  sad  recital  of  the  sufferings  of 
the  Christian  captive,  tugging  at  the  oar,  or  pining  in  the  dungeons  of  Tripoli 
and  Algiers.  Such  tales  formed  the  burden  of  the  popular  minstrelsy  of  the 
period,  as  well  as  of  more  elegant  literature. — the  drama,  and  romantic  fiction. 
But  fact  was  stranger  than  fiction.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  exaggerate 
the  number  of  the  Christian  captives  or  the  amount  of  their  sufferings.  On 
the  conquest  of  Tunis  by  Charles  the  Fifth,  in  1535,  ten  thousand  of  these 
unhappy  persons,  as  we  are  assured,  walked  forth  from  its  dungeons,  and 
knelt,  with  tears  of  gratitude  and  joy,  at  the  feet  of  their  liberator.  Chari- 
table associations  were  formed  in  Spain  for  the  sole  purpose  of  raising  funds 
to  ransom  the  Barbary  prisoners.  But  the  ransom  demanded  was  frequently 

•  CervantM,  In  bU  story  of  the  Captive's  were  taken  In  arms  against  Ms  countrymen, 

adventures  In  lK>n  (Quixote,  tell*  •»  that  It  his  conduct  would  be  set  down  to  compulsion, 

was  common  with  a  renegado  to  obtain  a  and  be  would  thus  escape  the  fangs  of  Ibe 

certificate  from  some  of  the  Christian  captive*  Inquisition. 
of  hi-t  desire  to  return  to  Spain,  to  that,  If  he 


384  THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

exorbitant,  and  the  efforts  of  these  benevolent  fraternities  made  but  a  feeble 
impression  on  the  whole  number  of  captives. 

Thus  the  war  between  the  Cross  and  the  Crescent  was  still  carried  on  along 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  when  the  day  of  the  Crusades  was  past  in 
most  of  the  other  quarters  of  Christendom.  The  existence  of  the  Spaniard— 
as  I  have  often  had  occasion  to  remark  —was  one  long  crusade ;  and  in  the 
sixteenth  century  he  was  still  doing  battle  with  the  infidel  as  stoutly  as  in 
the  heroic  days  of  the  Cut  The  furious  contests  with  the  petty  pirates  of 
Barbary  engendered  in  his  bosom  feelings  of  even  keener  hostility  than  that 
which  grew  up  in  his  contests  with  the  Arabs,  where  there  was  no  skulking, 
predatory  foe,  but  army  was  openly  arrayed  against  army  and  they  fought 
for  the  sovereignty  of  the  Peninsula.  The  feeling  of  religious  hatred  re- 
kindled by  the  Moors  of  Africa  extended  in  some  degree  to  the  Morisco 
population,  who  still  occupied  those  territories  on  the  southern  borders  of  the 
monarchy  which  had  belonged  to  their  ancestors,  the  Spanish  Arabs.  This 
feeling  was  increased  by  the  suspicion,  not  altogether  without  foundation,  of 
a  secret  correspondence  between  the  Moriscos  and  their  brethren  on  the 
Barbary  coast.  These  mingled  sentiments  of  hatred  and  suspicion  sharpened 
the  sword  of  persecution,  and  led  to  most  disastrous  consequences,  which 
before  long  will  be  unfolded  to  the  reader. 

Among  the  African  corsairs  was  one  by  the  name  of  Dragut,  distinguished 
for  his  daring  spirit  and  the  pestilent  activity  with  which  he  pursued  the 
commerce  of  the  Spaniards.  In  early  life  he  had  been  made  i/risoner  by 
Andrew  Doria  ;  and  the  four  years  during  which  he  was  chained  to  the  oar 
in  the  galleys  of  Genoa  did  not  serve  to  mitigate  the  feelings  of  hatred  which 
he  had  always  borne  to  the  Christians.  On  the  recovery  of  his  freedom  he 
resumed  his  desperate  trade  of  a  corsair  with  renewed  activity.  Having  made 
himself  master  of  Tripoli,  he  issued  out,  with  his  galleys,  from  that  strong- 
hold, fell  on  the  defenceless  merchantman,  ravaged  the  coasts,  engaged  boldly 
in  fight  with  the  Christian  squadrons,  and  made  his  name  as  terrible  through- 
out the  Mediterranean  as  that  of  Barbarossa  had  been  in  the  time  of  Charles 
the  Fifth. 

The  people  of  the  southern  provinces,  smarting  under  their  sufferings,  had 
more  than  once  besought  Philip  to  send  an  expedition  against  Tripoli,  and,  if 
possible,  break  up  this  den  of  thieves  and  rid  the  Mediterranean  of  the  for- 
midable corsair.  But  Philip,  who  was  in  the  midst  of  his  victorious  campaigns 
against  the  French,  had  neither  the  leisure  nor  the  resources,  at  that  time, 
for  such  an  enterprise.  In  the  spring  of  1559,  however,  he  gave  orders  to  the 
duke  of  Medina  (Jeli,  viceroy  of  Sicily,  to  fit  out  an  armament  for  the  purpose, 
to  obtain  the  co-operation  of  the  Italian  states,  and  to  take  command  of  the 
expedition. 

A  worse  choice  for  the  command  could  not  have  been  made ;  and  this  not 
so  much  from  the  duke's  inexperience ;  for  an  apprenticeship  to  the  sea  was 
not  deemed  necessary  to  form  a  naval  commander,  in  an  age  when  men  passed 
indifferently  from  the  land-service  to  the  sea-service.  But,  with  the  exception 
of  personal  courage,  the  duke  of  Medina  Cell  seems  to  have  possessed  none  of 
the  qualities  requisite  in  a  commander,  whether  by  land  or  sea. 

The  different  Italian  powers — Tuscany,  Rome,  Naples,  Sicily,  Genoa— all 
furnished  their  respective  quotas.  John  Andrew  Doria,  nephew  of  the  great 
Andrew,  and  worthy  of  the  name  he  bore,  had  command  of  the  galleys  of  the 
republic.  To  these  was  added  the  reinforcement  of  the  grand  master  of 
Malta.  The  whole  fleet  amounted  to  more  than  a  hundred  sail,  fifty-four 
of  which  were  galleys ;  by  much  the  larger  part  being  furnished  by  Spain  and 


EXPEDITION  AGAINST  TRIPOLI.  385 

her  Italian  provinces.  Fourteen  thousand  troops  embarked  on  board  the 
squadron.  So  much  time  was  consumed  in  preparation  that  the  armament 
was  not  got  ready  for  sea  till  late  in  October,  1559, — too  late  for  acting  with 
advantage  on  the  stormy  African  coast. 

This  did  not  deter  the  viceroy,  who,  at  the  head  of  the  combined  fleet, 
sailed  out  of  the  port  of  Syracuse  in  November.  But  the  elements  conspired 
against  this  ill-starred  expedition.  Scarcely  had  the  squadron  left  the  port 
when  it  was  assailed  by  a  tempest,  which  scattered  the  vessels,  disabled  some, 
and  did  serious  damage  to  others.  To  add  to  the  calamity,  an  epidemic  broke 
out  among  the  men,  caused  by  the  bad  quality  of  the  provisions  furnished  by 
the  Genoese  contractors.  In  his  distress,  the  duke  of  Medina  Celi  put  in  at 
the  island  of  Malta.  He  met  with  a  hospitable  reception  from  the  grand 
master ;  for  hospitality  was  one  of  the  obligations  of  the  order.  Full  two 
months  elapsed  before  the  duke  was  in  a  condition  to  re-embark,  with  his 
force  reduced  nearly  one-third  by  disease  and  death. 

Meanwhile,  Dragut,  having  ascertained  the  object  of  the  expedition,  had 
made  every  effort  to  put  Tripoli  in  a  posture  of  defence.  At  the  same  time 
he  sent  to  Constantinople,  to  solicit  the  aid  of  Solyman.  The  Spanish 
admiral,  in  the  crippled  condition  of  his  armament,  determined  to  postpone 
the  attack  on  Tripoli  to  another  time,  and  to  direct  his  operations  for  the 
present  against  the  island  of  Jerbah,  or,  as  it  was  called  by  the  Spaniards, 
Gelves.  This  place,  situated  scarcely  a  league  from  the  African  shore,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Tripoli,  had  long  been  known  as  a  nest  of  pirates  who  did 
great  mischief  in  the  Mediterranean.  It  was  a  place  of  ill  omen  to  the 
Spaniards,  whose  arms  had  met  there  with  a  memorable  reverse  in  the  reign 
of  Ferdinand  the  Catholic.*  The  duke,  however,  landing  with  his  whole 
force,  experienced  little  resistance  from  the  Moors,  and  soon  made  himself 
master  of  the  place.  It  was  defended  by  a  fortress  fallen  much  out  of  repair ; 
and,  as  the  Spanish  commander  proposed  to  leave  a  garrison  there,  he  set 
about  restoring  the  fortifications,  or  rather  constructing  new  ones.  In  this 
work  the  whole  army  actively  engaged ;  but  nearly  two  months  were  con- 
sumed before  it  was  finished.  The  fortress  was  then  mounted  with  artillery, 
and  provided  with  ammunition  and  whatever  was  necessary  for  its  defence. 
Finally,  a  garrison  was  introduced  into  it,  and  the  command  intrusted  to  a 
gallant  officer,  Don  Alvaro  de  Sande. 

Scarcely  had  these  arrangements  been  completed,  and  the  troops  prepared 
to  re-embark,  when  advices  reached  the  duke  that  a  large  Turkish  fleet  was 
on  its  way  from  Constantinople  to  the  assistance  of  Dragut.  The  Spanish 
admiral  called  a  council  of  war  on  board  of  his  ship.  Opinions  were  divided. 
Some,  among  whom  was  Doria,  considering  the  crippleu  condition  of  their 
squadron,  were  for  making  the  best  of  their  way  Lack  to  Sicily.  Others, 
regarding  this  as  a  course  unworthy  of  Spaniards,  were  for  standing  out  to 
sea  and  giving  battle  to  the  enemy.  The  duke,  perplexed  by  the  opposite 
opinions,  did  not  come  to  a  decision.  He  was  soon  spared  the  necessity  of  it 
by  the  sight  of  the  Ottoman  fleet,  under  full  sail,  l>earing  rapidly  down  on 
him.  It  consisted  of  eighty-six  galleys,  each  carrying  a  hundred  janizaries ; 
and  it  was  commanded  by  the  Turkish  admiral  Piali,  a  name  long  dreaded  in 
the  Mediterranean. 

At  the  sight  of  this  formidable  armament  the  Christians  were  seized  with  a 
panic.  They  scarcely  ottered  any  resistance  to  the  enemy,  who,  dashing  into 
the  midst  of  them,  sent  his  broadsides  to  the  right  and  left,  Kinking  some  of 
the  ships,  disabling  others,  while  those  out  of  reach  of  his  guns  shamefully 

'  Sec  the  History  of  the  Reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  part  it.  chap.  21. 


386  THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

sought  safety  in  flight.  Seventeen  of  the  combined  squadron  were  sunk ;  four- 
and-twenty,  more  or  less  injured,  struck  their  colours ;  a  few  succeeded  in 
regaining  the  island,  and  took  shelter  under  the  guns  of  the  fortress.  Medina 
Celi  and  Doria  were  among  those  who  thus  made  their  way  to  the  shore  ;  and 
under  cover  of  the  darkness,  on  the  following  night,  they  effected  their  escape 
in  a  frigate,  passing,  as  by  a  miracle,  without  notice,  through  the  enemy's 
fleet,  and  thus  securing  their  retreat  to  Sicily.  Never  was  there  a  victory 
more  humiliating  to  the  vanquished,  or  one  which  reflected  less  glory  on  the 
victors.* 

Before  embarking,  the  duke  ordered  Sande  to  defend  the  place  to  the  last 
extremity,  promising  him  speedy  assistance.  The  garrison,  thus  left  to  carry 
on  the  contest  with  the  whole  Turkish  army,  amounted  to  about  five  thousand 
men  ;  its  original  strength  being  considerably  augmented  by  the  fugitives  from 
the  fleet. 

On  the  following  morning,  Piali  landed  with  his  whole  force,  and  instantly 
proceeded  to  open  trenches  before  the  citadel.  When  he  had  established  his 
batteries  of  cannon,  he  sent  a  summons  to  the  garrison  to  surrender.  Sande 
returned  for  answer  that,  "if  the  place  were  won,  it  would  not  be,  like  Piali's 
late  victory,  without  bloodshed."  The  Turkish  commander  waited  no  longer, 
but  opened  a  lively  cannonade  on  the  ramparts,  which  he  continued  for  some 
days,  till  a  practicable  breach  was  made.  He  then  ordered  a  general  assault. 
The  janizaries  rushed  forward  with  their  usual  impetuosity,  under  a  murderous 
discharge  of  artillery  and  small  arms  from  the  fortress  as  well  as  from  the 
shipping,  which  was  so  situated  as  to  support  the  fire  of  the  besieged.  Nothing 
daunted,  the  brave  Moslems  pushed  forward  over  the  bodies  of  their  fallen 
comrades  ;  and,  scrambling  across  the  ditch,  the  leading  files  succeeded  in 
throwing  themselves  into  the  breach.  But  here  they  met  with  a  spirit  as 
determined  as  their  own,  from  the  iron  array  of  warriors,  armed  with  pike  and 
arquebuse,  who,  with  Sande  at  their  head,  formed  a  wall  as  impenetrable  as 
the  ramparts  of  the  fortress.  The  contest  was  now  carried  on  man  against 
man,  and  in  a  space  too  narrow  to  allow  the  enemy  to  profit  by  his  superior 
numbers.  The  besieged,  meanwhile,  from  the  battlements,  hurled  down 
missiles  of  every  description  on  the  heads  of  the  assailants.  The  struggle 
lasted  for  some  hours.  But  Spanish  valour  triumphed  in  the  end,  and  the 
enemy  was  driven  back  in  disorder  across  the  moat,  while  his  rear  files  were 
sorely  galled,  in  his  retreat,  by  the  incessant  fire  of  the  fortress. 

Incensed  by  the  failure  of  his  attack  and  the  slaughter  of  his  brave  followers, 
Piali  thought  it  prudent  to  wait  till  he  should  be  reinforced  by  the  arrival  of 
Dragut  with  a  fresh  supply  of  men  and  of  battering-ordnance.  The  besieged 
profited  by  the  interval  to  repair  their  works,  and  when  Dragut  appeared  they 
were  nearly  as  well  prepared  for  the  contest  as  before. 

On  the  corsair's  arrival,  Piali,  provided  with  a  heavier  battering-train, 
opened  a  more  effective  fire  on  the  citadel.  The  works  soon  gave  way,  and 
the  Turkish  commander  promptly  returned  to  the  assault.  It  was  conducted 
with  the  same  spirit,  was  met  with  the  same  desperate  courage,  and  ended, 
like  the  former,  in  the  total  discomfiture  of  the  assailants,  who  withdrew, 
leaving  the  fosse  choked  up  with  the  bodies  of  their  slaughtered  comrades. 
Again  and  again  the  attack  was  renewed,  by  an  enemy  whose  numbers  allowed 
the  storming-parties  to  relieve  one  another,  while  the  breaches  made  by  an 
unintermitting  cannonade  gave  incessant  occupation  to  the  besieged  in  repair- 

4  Ferreras,  Hist.  d'E^pagne,  torn.   ix.    p.        cap.   8. — Sagredo,    Monarcas  Othomanos,  p. 
415,  et  seq. — Herrera,  Historia  general,  lib.        234,  et  seq. 
v.  cap.  18 — Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  v. 


DESPERATE  DEFENCE  OF  GELVES.  387 

ing  them.  Fortunately,  the  number  of  the  latter  enabled  them  to  perform 
this  difficult  service ;  and  though  many  were  disabled,  and  there  were  few 
who  were  not  wounded,  they  still  continued  to  stand  to  their  posts,  with  the 
same  spirit  as  on  the  first  day  of  the  siege. 

But  the  amount  of  the  garrison,  so  serviceable  in  this  point  of  view,  was 
fatal  in  another.  The  fortress  had  been  provisioned  with  reference  to  a  much 
smaller  force.  The  increased  number  of  mouths  was  thus  doing  the  work  of 
the  enemy.  Notwithstanding  the  strictest  economy,  there  was  already  a 
scarcity  of  provisions ;  and  at  the  end  of  six  weeks  the  garrison  was  left 
entirely  without  food.  The  water  too  had  failed.  A  soldier  had  communi- 
cated to  the  Spanish  commander  an  ingenious  process  for  distilling  fresh 
water  from  salt.*  This  afforded  a  most  important  supply,  though  in  a  very 
limited  quantity.  But  the  wood  which  furnished  the  fuel  necessary  for  the 
process  was  at  length  exhausted,  and  to  hunger  was  added  the  intolerable 
misery  of  thirst. 

Thus  reduced  to  extremity,  the  brave  Sande  was  not  reduced  to  despair. 
Calling  his  men  together,  he  told  them  that  liberty  was  of  more  value  than 
life.  Anything  was  better  than  to  surrender  to  such  an  enemy.  And  he 
proposed  to  them  to  sally  from  the  fortress  that  very  night,  and  cut  their  way, 
if  possible,  through  the  Turkish  army,  or  fall  in  the  attempt.  The  Spaniards 
heartily  responded  to  the  call  of  their  heroic  leader.  They  felt,  like  him,  that 
the  doom  of  slavery  was  more  terrible  than  death. 

That  night,  or  rather  two  hours  before  dawn  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  June, 
Don  Alvaro  sallied  out  of  the  fortress,  at  the  head  of  all  those  who  were 
capable  of  bearing  arms.  But  they  amounted  to  scarcely  more  than  a 
thousand  men,  so  greatly  had  the  garrison  been  diminished  by  death  or  dis- 
abled by  famine  and  disease.  Under  cover  of  the  darkness,  they  succeeded  in 
passing  through  the  triple  row  of  intrenchments  without  alarming  the  slumber- 
ing enemy.  At  length,  roused  by  the  cries  of  their  sentinels,  the  Turks 
sprang  to  their  arms,  and,  gathering  in  dark  masses  round  the  Christians, 
presented  an  impenetrable  barrier  to  their  advance.  The  contest  now  became 
furious ;  but  it  was  short.  The  heroic  little  band  were  too  much  enfeebled  by 
their  long  fatigues,  and  by  the  total  want  of  food  for  the  last  two  days,  to 
make  head  against  the  overwhelming  number  of  their  assailants.  Many  fell 
under  the  Turkish  scimitars,  and  the  rest,  after  a  fierce  struggle,  were  forced 
back  on  the  path  by  which  they  had  come,  and  took  refuge  in  the  fort.  Their 
dauntless  leaaer,  refusing  to  yield,  succeeded  in  cutting  his  way  through  the 
enemy,  and  threw  himself  into  one  of  the  vessels  in  the  port.  Here  he  was 
speedily  followed  by  such  a  throne  as  threatened  to  sink  the  bark  and  made 
resistanee  hopeless.  Yielding  up  nis  sword,  therefore,  he  was  taken  prisoner, 
and  led  off  in  triumph  to  the  tent  of  the  Turkish  commander. 

On  the  same  day  the  remainder  of  the  garrison,  unable  to  endure  another 
assault,  surrendered  at  discretion.  Piali  had  now  accomplished  the  object  of 
the  expedition  ;  and,  having  re-established  the  Moorish  authorities  in  posses- 
sion or  the  place,  he  embarked,  with  his  whole  army,  for  Constantinople.  The 
tidings  of  nis  victory  had  preceded  him  ;  and,  as  he  proudly  sailed  up  the 
BwpbonU,  he  was  greeted  with  thunders  of  artillery  from  the  seraglio  and  the 
heights  surrounding  the  capital.  First  came  the  Turkish  galleys,  in  beautiful 
order,  with  the  banners  taken  from  the  Christians  ignominiously  trailing 

•  "Hall6  D^in  Alvaro  an  romedlo  para  la  hlqnc,  y  aunqne  wild  buena,  y  Be  bevia,  no 

fslt.i  del  sRiia  que  en  parte  aymlo  it  la  HITCH-  ne  liar.ia  Unt  i  qne   Ixmtnw*,   y  se    pnitava 

•lilad,  y  finS  qua  nno  de  mi  campo  le  mostrrt,  ninchn  Irfia,  d<>  que  tfnlnn  falls."     llerrera, 

que  el  agua  aalmla  se  podia  destilar  por  alaiu-  Hist<>ria  general,  turn  1.  p.  434. 


388  THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

behind  them  through  the  water.  Then  followed  their  prizes, — the  seventeen 
vessels  taken  in  the  action, — the  battered  condition  of  which  formed  a  striking 
contrast  to  that  of  their  conquerors.  But  the  prize  greater  than  all  was  the 
prisoners,  amounting  to  nearly  four  thousand,  who,  manacled  like  so  many 
malefactors,  were  speedily  landed,  and  driven  through  the  streets,  amidst  the 
shouts  and  hootings  of  the  populace,  to  the  slave-market  of  Constantinople. 
A  few  only,  of  the  higher  order,  were  reserved  for  ransom.  Among  them  were 
Don  Alvaro  de  Sande  and  a  son  of  Medina  Celi.  The  young  nobleman  did 
not  long  survive  his  captivity.  Don  Alvaro  recovered  his  freedom,  and  lived 
to  take  ample  vengeance  for  all  he  had  suffered  on  his  conquerors.6 

Such  was  the  end  of  the  disastrous  expedition  against  Tripoli,  which  left  a 
stain  on  the  Spanish  arms  that  even  the  brave  conduct  of  the  garrison  at 
Gelves  could  not  wholly  wipe  away.  The  Moors  were  greatly  elated  by  the 
discomfiture  of  their  enemies ;  and  the  Spaniards  were  filled  with  a  propor- 
tionate degree  of  despondency,  as  they  reflected  to  what  extent  then:  coasts 
and  their  commerce  would  be  exposed  to  the  predatory  incursions  of  the  cor- 
sairs. Philip  was  especially  anxious  in  regard  to  the  safety  of  his  possessions 
on  the  African  coast.  The  two  principal  of  these  were  Oran  and  Mazar- 
quivir,  situated  not  far  to  the  west  of  Algiers.  They  were  the  conquests  of 
Cardinal  Ximenes.  The  former  place  was  won  by  an  expedition  fitted  out  at 
his  own  expense.  The  enterprises  of  this  remarkable  man  were  conducted  on 
a  gigantic  scale,  which  might  seem  better  suited  to  the  revenues  of  princes. 
Of  the  two  places  Oran  was  the  more  considerable  ;  yet  hardly  more  important 
than  Mazarquivir,  which  possessed  an  excellent  harbour, — a  thing  of  rare 
occurrence  on  the  Barbary  shore.  Both  had  been  cherished  with  care  by  the 
Castilian  government,  and  by  no  monarch  more  than  by  Philip  the  Second, 
who  perfectly  understood  the  importance  of  these  possessions,  both  for  the 
advantages  of  a  commodious  harbour,  and  for  the  means  they  gave  him  of 
bridling  the  audacity  of  the  African  cruisers.7 

In  1562,  the  king  ordered  a  squadron  of  four-and-twenty  galleys,  under  the 
command  of  Don  Juan  de  Mendoza,  to  be  got  ready  in  the  port  of  Malaga,  to 
carry  supplies  to  the  African  colonies.  But  in  crossing  the  Mediterranean 
the  ships  were  assailed  by  a  furious  tenvnest,  which  compelled  them  to  take 
refuge  in  the  little  port  of  Herradura.  The  fury  of  the  storm,  however,  con- 
tinued to  increase  ;  and  the  vessels,  while  riding  at  anchor,  dashed  one  against 
another  with  such  violence  that  many  of  them  foundered,  and  others,  parting 
their  cables,  drifted  on  shore,  which  was  covered  far  and  wide  with  the  dismal 
wrecks.  Two  or  three  only,  standing  out  to  sea  and  braving  the  hurricane 
on  the  deep,  were  so  fortunate  as  to  escape.  By  this  frightful  shipwreck,  four 
thousand  men,  including  their  commander,  were  swallowed  up  by  the  waves. 
The  southern  provinces  were  filled  with  consternation  at  this  new  calamity, 
coming  so  soon  after  the  defeat  at  Gelves.  It  seemed  as  if  the  hand  of  Pro- 
vidence was  lifted  against  them  in  their  wars  with  the  Mussulmans.* 

The  Barbary  Moors,  encouraged  by  the  losses  of  the  Spanish  navy,  thought 
this  a  favourable  time  for  recovering  their  ancient  possessions  on  the  coast. 
Hassem,  the  dey  of  Algiers,  in  particular,  a  warlike  prince,  who  had  been 

•  For  the  account  of  the  heroic  defence  of  gestis  PhiUppi  II.,  pp.  63-87. 

Gelves,  see — and  reconcile,  if  the  reader  can  '  "Questa  sola  utilita  ne  cavail  Re  di  quei 

— Herrera,  ubi  supra ;   Ferreras,  Hist.  d'Es-  luoghi  per    conservatione  d(-'  qnali    spende 

pagne,  torn.  ix.  pp.  416-421 ;  Leti,  Filippo  II.,  ogni  unno  gran  sonmia  di  denari  delle  sue 

torn.  i.  pp.  349-352;  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  entrate."    Relatione  de  Soriano,  1500,  MS. 

lib.  v.  cap.  11,  12;  Campana,  Vita  di  Filippo  '  Ferreras,   Hist.    d'Kspapne,  torn.  ix.    p. 

II.,  par.  ii.  lib.  12  ;  Sagredo,  Monarcas  Otho-  426.— Sepulveda,  De  Rebus  gestis  Philippi  II., 

Diano?,  p.  237,  et  seq. — Sepulveda,  De  Rebus  p.  90. 


WAR  ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST.  389 

engaged  in  more  than  one  successful  encounter  with  the  Christians,  set  on 
foot  an  expedition  against  the  territories  of  Oran  and  Mazarquivir.  The 
government  of  these  places  was  intrusted,  at  that  time,  to  Don  Alonzo  de 
Cordova,  count  of  Alcaudete.  In  this  post  he  had  succeeded  his  father,  a 
gallant  soldier,  who,  five  years  before,  had  been  slain  in  battle  by  this  very 
Hassem,  the  lord  of  Algiers.  Eight  thousand  Spaniards  had  fallen  with  him 
on  the  field,  or  had  been  made  prisoners  of  war.'  Such  were  the  sad  auspices 
under  which  the  reign  of  Philip  the  Second  began,  in  his  wars  with  the 
Moslems." 

Oran,  at  this  time,  was  garrisoned  by  seventeen  hundred  men  ;  and  twenty- 
seven  pieces  of  artillery  were  mounted  on  its  walls.  Its  fortifications  were  m 
good  repair ;  but  it  was  in  no  condition  to  stand  a  siege  by  so  formidable  a  force 
as  that  which  Hassem  was  mustering  in  Algiers.  The  count  of  Alcaudete, 
the  governor,  a  soldier  worthy  of  the  illustrious  stock  from  which  he  sprang, 
lost  no  time  in  placing  both  Oran  and  Mazarquivir  in  the  best  state  of  defence 
which  his  means  allowed,  and  in  acquainting  Philip  with  the  peril  in  which  he 
stood. 

Meanwhile,  the  Algerine  chief  was  going  briskly  forward  with  his  prepara- 
tions. Besides  his  own  vassals,  he  summoned  to  his  aid  the  petty  princes  of 
the  neighbouring  country  ;  and  in  a  short  time  he  had  assembled  a  host  in 
which  Moors,  Arabs,  and  Turks  were  promiscuously  mingled,  and  which,  in  the 
various  estimates  of  the  Spaniards,  rose  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  thousand 
men. 

Little  reliance  can  be  placed  on  the  numerical  estimates  of  the  Spaniards  in 
their  wars  with  the  infidel.  The  gross  exaggeration  of  the  numbers  brought 
by  the  enemy  into  the  field,  and  the  numbers  he  was  sure  to  leave  there,  with 
the  corresponding  diminution  of  their  own  in  both  particulars,  would  seem  to 
infer  that  in  these  religious  wars  they  thought  some  miracle  was  necessary 
to  show  that  Heaven  was  on  their  side,  and  the  greater  the  miracle  the  greater 
the  glory.  This  hyperbolical  tone,  characteristic  of  the  old  Spaniards,  and 
said  to  have  been  imported  from  the  East,  is  particularly  visible  in  the  accounts 
of  their  struggles  with  the  Spanish  Arabs,  where  large  masses  were  brought 
into  the  field  on  both  sides,  and  where  the  reports  of  a  battle  took  indeed  the 
colouring  of  an  Arabian  tale.  The  same  taint  of  exaggeration,  though  some- 
what mitigated,  continued  to  a  much  later  period,  and  may  be  observed  in 
the  reports  of  the  contests  with  the  Moslems,  whether  Turks  or  Moors,  in  the 
sixteenth  century. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  March,  1563,  Hassem  left  Algiers,  at  the  head  of  his 
somewhat  miscellaneous  array,  sending  his  battering-train  of  artillery  round 
by  water,  to  meet  him  at  the  port  of  Mazarquivir.  He  proposed  to  begin  by 
the  siege  of  this  place,  which,  while  it  woukf  afford  a  convenient  harbour  for 

•  The  (It-tail*  of  the  battle  were  given.  In  •  Gaztelu,  inform*  UH  that  care  was  taken  that 

letter  dated  Septemlwr  5th,  1&58,  by  Don  the  tiding))  should  not  reach  the  ear  of  his 

Atonzo  to  the  king.  Hia  father  fell,  it  Hpcma,  dying  master:  "  1. 1  muerte  del  comle  de 

In  an  attempt  to  rescue  bis  younger  nun  from  Alcnuil>-.<-  y  MI  deabarato  NO  i-ntendio'  aqul  por 

the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Though  th<  fattier  caria  de  Dn  Alonno  on  hijo  que  dc*pach6  un 

died,  the  son  wan  saved.  It  was  the  fume  correo  desdv  Toledo  con  la  nueva  y  por  ser 

Don  Martin  de  C6rdova  who  no  stoutly  >{••-  tan  ruyn  y  ertar  S.  Mugd.  en  tal  disposition 

fended  Mn/anpiivir  against  Has-rm  Lft.-r-  no  RC  le  dixo,  y  DC  tendra  cuydado  de  que 

»  anls.  aft  mentioned  in  tin-  text.  Carta  de  Umpoco  la  sepa  linnta  que  plazra  li  Pius  cute 

Don  Alunso  de  Cordova  al  Key,  de  Toledo,  llbre;  porquo  no  si-  yo  nl  hay  ninguno  en 

MS.  cuyo  ti'  ni)K>  baya  nurediilu  tan  gran  ik-cgracia 

'*  The  tiding*  of  this  sad  disaster,  accord-  como  esta."  Carta  dc  Mar-in  de  Oaite lu  al 

ing  to  Cabrera,  haslenrd  the  de.ith  of  Ci.arles  8ecretBlioMollM.de  Yuste.  Set.  12,  16SH, 

the  Fifth  (Fllir*  Segundo.  lib.  iv.  cap.  13).  MS.— The  original  of  thin  letter,  llko  that  of 

Bat  a  letter  from  the  imperial  secretary,  the  preceding,  Is  In  the  Archives  of  Simtncu. 


390  THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

his  navy,  would,  by  its  commanding  position,  facilitate  the  conquest  of  Oran. 
Leaving  a  strong  body  of  men,  therefore,  for  the  investment  of  the  latter,  he 
continued  his  march  on  Mazarquivir,  situated  at  only  two  leagues'  distance. 
The  defence  of  this  place  was  intrusted  by  Alcaudete  to  his  brother,  Don 
Martin  de  C  Jrdova^  Its  fortifications  were  in  good  condition,  and  garnished 
with  near  thirty  pieces  of  artillery.  It  was  garrisoned  by  five  hundred  men, 
was  well  provided  with  ammunition,  and  was  victualled  for  a  two  months'  siege. 
It  was  also  protected  by  a  detached  fort,  called  St.  Michael,  built  by  the  count 
of  Alcaudete,  and,  from  its  commanding  position,  now  destined  to  be  the  first 
object  of  attack.  The  fort  was  occupied  by  a  few  hundred  Spaniards,  who,  as 
it  was  of  great  moment  to  gain  time  for  the  arrival  of  succours  from  Spain, 
were  ordered  to  maintain  it  to  the  last  extremity. 

Hassem  was  not  long  in  opening  trenches.  Impatient,  however,  of  the 
delay  of  his  fleet,  which  was  detained  by  the  weather,  he  determined  not  to 
wait  for  the  artillery,  but  to  attempt  to  carry  the  fort  by  escalade.  In  this 
attempt,  though  conducted  with  spirit,  he  met  with  so  decided  a  repulse  that 
he  abandoned  the  project  of  further  operations  till  the  arrival  of  his  ships. 
No  sooner  did  this  take  place  than,  landing  his  heavy  guns,  he  got  them  into 
position  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  opened  a  lively  cannonade  on  the  walls  of 
the  fortress.  The  walls  were  of.  no  great  strength.  A  breach  was  speedily 
made  ;  and  Hassem  gave  orders  for  the  assault. 

No  sooner  was  the  signal  given  than  Moor,  Turk,  Arab, — the  various  races 
in  whose  veins  glowed  the  hot  blood  of  the  south, — sprang  impetuously  for- 
ward. In  vain  the  leading  files,  as  they  came  on,  were  swept  away  by  the 
artillery  of  the  fortress,  while  the  guns  of  Mazarquivir  did  equal  execution  on 
their  flank.  The  tide  rushed  on,  with  an  enthusiasm  that  overleaped  every 
obstacle.  Each  man  seemed  emulous  of  his  comrade,  as  if  desirous  to  show 
the  superiority  of  his  own  tribe  or  race.  The  ditch,  choked  up  with  the  debris 
of  the  rampart  and  the  fascines  that  had  been  thrown  into  it,  was  speedily 
crossed;  and  while  some  sprang  fearlessly  into  the  breach,  others  endeavoured 
to  scale  the  walls.  But  everywhere  they  were  met  by  men  as  fresh  for  action 
as  themselves,  and  possessed  of  a  spirit  as  intrepid.  The  battle  raged  along 
the  parapet,  and  in  the  breach,  where  the  struggle  was  deadliest.  It  was  the 
old  battle,  so  often  fought,  of  the  Crescent  and  the  Cross,  the  fiery  African 
and  the  cool,  indomitable  European.  Arquebuse  and  pike,  sabre  and  scimitar, 
clashed  fearfully  against  each  other  ;  while  high  above  the  din  rose  the  war- 
cries  of  "  Allah  !  "  and  "  St.  Jago  ! "  showing  the  creeds  and  countries  of  the 
combatants. 

At  one  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Moslems  would  prevail ; 
and  twice  the  standard  of  the  Crescent  was  planted  on  the  walls.  But  it  was 
speedily  torn  down  by  the  garrison,  and  the  bold  adventurers  who  had  planted 
it  thrown  headlong  into  the  moat. 

Meanwhile,  an  incessant  fire  of  musketry  was  kept  up  from  the  ramparts ; 
and  hand-grenades,  mingled  with  barrels  of  burning  pitch,  were  hurled 
down  on  the  heads  of  the  assailants,  whose  confusion  was  increased  as 
their  sight  was  blinded  by  the  clouds  of  smoke  which  rose  from  the  fascines 
that  had  taken  fire  in  the  ditch.  But,  although  their  efforts  began  to 
slacken,  they  were  soon  encouraged  by  fresh  detachments  sent  to  their 
support  by  Hassein,  and  the  fight  was  renewed  with  redoubled  fury.  These 
efforts,  however,  proved  equally  ineffectual.  The  Moors  were  driven  back 
on  all  points  ;  and,  giving  way  before  the  invincible  courage  of  the  Span- 
iards, they  with  Irew  in  such  disorder  across  the  fosse,  now  bridged  over 
with  the  bodies  of  the  slain,  that,  if  the  garrison  had  been  strong  enough  in 


WAR  ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST.  391 

numbers,  they  might  have  followed  the  foe  to  his  trenches  and  inflicted  such 
a  blow  as  would  at  once  have  terminated  the  siege.  As  it  was,  the  loss  of  the 
enemy  was  fearful ;  while  that  of  the  Spaniards,  screened  by  their  defences, 
was  comparatively  light.  Yet  a  hundred  lives  of  the  former,  so  overwhelming 
were  their  numbers,  were  of  less  account  than  a  single  life  among  the  latter. 
The  heads  of  fifty  Turks,  who  had  fallen  in  the  breach  or  in  the  ditch,  were 
cut  oiF,  as  we  are  told,  by  the  garrison,  and  sent,  as  the  grisly  trophies  of  their 
victory,  to  Oran  ;  "  showing  the  feelings  of  bitter  hatred — perhaps  of  fear — 
with  which  this  people  was  regarded  by  the  Christians. 

The  Moorish  chief,  chafing  under  this  loss,  reopened  his  fire  on  the  fortress 
with  greater  fury  than  ever.  He  then  renewed  the  assault,  but  with  no 
better  success.  A  third  and  a  fourth  time  he  returned  to  the  attack,  but  in 
vain.  In  vain,  too,  Hassem  madly  tore  off  his  turban,  and,  brandishing  his 
scimitar,  with  imprecations  on  his  men,  drove  them  forward  to  the  tight. 
There  was  no  lack  of  spirit  in  his  followers,  who  poured  out  their  blood  like 
water.  But  it  could  not  shake  the  constancy  of  the  Spaniards,  which  seemed 
even  to  grow  stronger  as  their  situation  became  more  desperate  ;  and  as  their 
defences  were  swept  away,  they  threw  themselves  on  their  knees,  and  from 
behind  the  ruins  still  poured  down  their  volleys  of  musketry  on  the  assailants. 

Yet  they  could  not  nave  maintained  their  ground  so  long,  but  for  a  season- 
able reinforcement  received  from  Mazarquivir.  But,  however  high  the  spirit, 
there  is  a  limit  to  the  powers  of  endurance  ;  and  the  strength  of  the  garrison 
was  rapidly  giving  way  under  incessant  vigils  and  want  or  food.  Their  for- 
tifications, moreover,  pierced  through  and  through  by  the  enemy's  shot,  were 
no  longer  tenable  ;  and  a  mine,  which  Hassem  was  now  prepared  to  run  under 
the  ramparts,  would  complete  the  work  of  destruction.  They  had  obeyed 
their  orders,  and  stood  to  their  defence  gallantly  to  the  last ;  and  they  now 
obtained  leave  to  abandon  the  fort.  On  the  seventh  of  May,  after  having 
sustained  eight  assaults  and  a  siege  of  three  weeks  from  a  host  so  superior  to 
the :n  in  numbers,  the  garrison  marched  out  of  the  fortress  of  St.  Michael. 
Under  cover  of  the  guns  of  Mazarquivir,  they  succeeded  in  rejoining  their 
comrades  there  with  but  little  loss,  and  were  gladly  welcomed  by  their  com- 
mander, Don  Martin  de  Cordova,  who  rendered  them  the  honour  due  to  their 
heroic  conduct.  That  same  day  Hassem  took  possession  of  the  fortress.  He 
found  only  a  heap  of  ruins.1* 

The  Moorish  prince,  stung  with  mortification  at  the  price  he  had  paid  for 
his  victory,  and  anxious,  moreover,  to  anticipate  the  arrival  of  succours  from 
Spain,  now  eagerly  pressed  forward  the  siege  of  Mazarquivir.  With  the 
assistance  of  his  squadron,  the  place  was  closely  invested  by  sea  and  land. 
Batteries  of  heavy  guns  were  raised  on  opposite  sides  of  the  castle ;  and  for 
ten  days  they  thundered,  without  interruption,  on  its  devoted  walls.  When 
these  had  been  so  far  shaken  as  to  afford  an  opening  to  the  besiegers,  Hassem, 
willing  to  spare  the  further  sacrifice  of  his  men,  sent  a  summons  to  Don 
Martin  to  surrender,  intimating,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  works  were  in 
too  ruinous  a  condition  to  be  defended.  To  this  the  Spaniard  coolly  replied 
that,  "  if  they  were  in  such  a  condition,  Hassem  might  come  and  take  them." 

On  the  signal  from  their  chief,  the  Moors  moveu  rapidly  forward  to  the 
attack,  and  were  soon  brought  face  to  face  with  their  enemy.  A  bloody  con- 

11  Cabrera,  FiUpe  Scgundo,  lib.  vl.  cap.  10.  De  Rebus  Restls  Pliillppl  II..  p.  94;  Salazar 

"  For  thin  siege,  the  particulars  of  which  il>-  Monduza.  Monar<|iiia  <Jc  KspaRa  (Madrid, 

are  given  in  n  manner  sufficiently  confuted  1770).  torn.  II.  p.  127  ;  Miniana,   Hixtoria  de 

liv  in  .-t  of  the  writer*,  see  Kerrerao,   Ili-t.  Knpana,  pp.  341,  342;  Car<>  de  Torres,  Ilis- 

.l'K-i..itfiir.  torn.  Ix.  p.  431,  et  iuM|. ;  Cabrera,  torin  de  las  Ordenes  militaree,  fol.  1M. 
Ftlipe   Jvguixlo,   lib.  vi.  cap.   1U;  Sepulveda, 


392  THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

flict  followed,  in  the  breach  and  on  the  ramparts.  It  continued  more  than 
five  hours.  The  assailants  found  they  had  men  of  the  same  mettle  to 
deal  with  as  before,  and  with  defences  yet  stronger  than  those  they  had  en- 
countered in  the  fortress  of  St  Michael.  Here  again  the  ardour  of  the 
African  proved  no  match  for  the  cool  and  steady  courage  of  the  European  ; 
and  Hassem's  forces,  repulsed  on  every  quarter,  withdrew  in  so  mangled  a 
condition  to  their  trenches  that  he  was  in  no  state  for  several  days  to  renew 
the  assault.1* 

It  would  be  tedious  to  rehearse  the  operations  of  a  siege  so  closely  resem- 
bling in  its  details  that  of  the  fortress  of  St.  Michael.  The  most  conspicuous 
figure  in  the  bloody  drama  was  the  commander  of  the  garrison,  Don*Martin 
de  Cordova.  Freely  exposing  himself  to  hardship  and  danger  with  the 
meanest  of  his  followers,  he  succeeded  in  infusing  his  own  unconquerable 
spirit  into  their  bosoms.  On  the  eve  of  an  assault  ne  might  be  seen  passing 
through  the  ranks  with  a  crucifix  in  his  hand,  exhorting  his  men,  by  the 
blessed  sign  of  their  redemption,  to  do  their  duty,  and  assuring  them  of  the 
protection  of  Heaven.14  Every  soldier,  kindling  with  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
leader,  looked  on  himself  as  a  soldier  of  the  Cross,  and  felt  assured  that  the 
shield  of  the  Almighty  must  be  stretched  over  those  who  were  thus  fighting 
the  battles  of  the  Faitn.  The  women  caught  somewhat  of  the  same  generous 
ardour,  and,  instead  of  confining  themselves  to  the  feminine  occupations  of 
nursing  the  sick  and  the  wounded,  took  an  active  part  in  the  duties  of  the 
soldiers  and  helped  to  lighten  their  labours. 

Still,  the  condition  of  the  garrison  became  daily  more  precarious,  as  their 
strength  diminished  and  their  defences  crumbled  around  them  under  the  in- 
cessant fire  of  the  besiegers.  The  count  of  Alcaudete  in  vain  endeavoured  to 
come  to  their  relief,  or  at  least  to  effect  a  diversion  in  their  favour.  Sallying 
out  of  Oran,  he  had  more  than  one  sharp  encounter  with  the  enemy.  But  the 
odds  against  him  were  too  great ;  and,  though  he  spread  carnage  among  the 
Moslem  ranks,  he  could  ill  afford  the  sacrifice  of  life  that  it  cost  him.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  two  garrisons  were  assailed  by  an  enemy  from  within,  more 
inexorable  than  the  enemy  at  their  gates.  Famine  had  begun  to  show  itself 
in  some  of  its  hideous  forms.  They  were  already  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
devouring  the  flesh  of  their  horses  and  asses  ;  '*  and  even  that  was  doled  out 
so  scantily  as  too  plainly  intimated  that  this  sustenance,  wretched  as  it  was, 
was  soon  to  fail  them.  Under  these  circumstances,  their  spirits  would  have 
sunk,  had  they  not  been  sustained  by  the  expectation  of  succour  from  Spain  ; 
and  they  cast  many  a  wistful  glance  on  the  Mediterranean,  straining  their 
eyes  to  the  farthest  verge  of  the  horizon,  to  see  if  they  could  not  descry  some 
friendly  sail  upon  the  waters. 

But  Philip  was  not  unmindful  of  them.  Independently  of  the  importance 
of  the  posts,  he  felt  his  honour  to  be  deeply  concerned  in  the  protection  of  the 
brave  men  who  were  battling  there  for  the  cause  not  merely  of  Castile,  but  of 
Christendom.  No  sooner  had  he  been  advised  by  Alcaudete  of  the  peril  in 
which  he  stood  than  he  gave  orders  that  a  fleet  should  be  equipped  to  go  to 
his  relief.  But  such  orders,  in  the  disabled  condition  of  the  navy,  were  more 
easily  given  than  executed.  Still,  efforts  were  made  to  assemble  an  armament 
and  get  it  ready  in  the  shortest  possible  time.  Even  the  vessels  employed  to 

"  According  to  Cabrera  (Filipe  Sepindo,  lib.  '•  Fen-eras,  Hist.  d'Espagne,  torn.  ix.  p. 

vi.  cap.  12),  two  thousand  infidels  fell  on  this  455. 

occa-ion,  and  only  ten  Christians ;  a  fair  pro-  '•  Campana,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  li.  p. 

portion  for  a  Christian  historian  to  allow.  138. 
Ex  uno,  etc. 


WAR  ON  THE  BARBARY  COAST.  293 

convoy  the  India  galleons  were  pressed  into  the  service.  The  young  cavaliers 
of  the  southern  provinces  eagerly  embarked  as  volunteers  in  an  expedition 
which  afibrded  them  an  opportunity  for  avenging  the  insults  offered  to  the 
Spanish  arms.  The  other  states  bordering  on  the  Mediterranean,  which  had, 
in  fact,  almost  as  deep  an  interest  in  the  cause  as  Spain  herself,  promptly 
furnished  their  contingents.  To  these  were  to  be  added,  as  usual,  the  galleys 
of  the  Knights  of  Malta,  always  foremost  to  unfurl  the  banner  in  a  war  wilh 
the  infidel  In  less  than  two  months  an  armament  consisting  of  forty-two 
large  galleys,  besides  smaller  vessels,  well  manned  and  abundantly  supplied 
with  provisions  and  military  stores,  was  assembled  in  the  port  of  Malaga.  It 
was  placed  under  the  command  of  Don  Antonio  de  Mendoza,  who,  on  the  sixth 
of  June,  weighed  anchor  and  steered  directly  for  the  Barbary  coast. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth,  at  early  dawn,  the  sentinels  on  the  ramparts 
of  Mazarqnivir  descried  the  deet  like  a  dark  speck  on  the  distant  waters.  As 
it  drew  nearer,  and  the  rising  sun,  glancing  on  the  flag  of  Castile,  showed  that 
the  long-promised  succour  was  at  hand,  the  exhausted  garrison,  almost  on  the 
brink  of  despair,  gave  themselves  up  to  a  delirium  of  joy.  They  embraced  one 
another,  like  men  rescued  from  a  terrible  fate,  and,"  with  swelling  hearts, 
offered  up  thanksgivings  to  the  Almighty  for  their  deliverance.  Soon  the 
cannon  of  Mazarquiyir  proclaimed  the  glad  tidings  to  the  garrison  of  Oraii, 
who  replied  from  their  battlements  in  thunders  which  carriea  dismay  into  the 
hearts  of  the  besiegers.  If  Hassern  had  any  doubt  of  the  cause  of  these 
rejoicings,  it  was  soon  dispelled  by  several  Moorish  vessels,  which,  scudding 
before  the  enemy,  like  the  smaller  birds  before  the  eagle,  brought  report  that 
a  Spanish  fleet  under  full  sail  was  standing  for  Mazarquivir. 

No  time  was  to  be  lost  He  commanded  his  ships  lying  in  the  harbour  to 
slip  their  cables  and  make  the  best  of  their  way  to  Algiers.  Orders  were  given 
at  once  to  raise  the  siege.  Everything  was  abandoned.  Whatever  could  be 
of  service  to  the  enemy  was  destroyed.  Hassem  caused  his  guns  to  be  over- 
charged, and  blew  them  to  pieces."  He  disencumbered. himself  of  whatever 
might  retard  his  movements,  and,  without  further  delay,  began  his  retreat 

No  sooner  did  Alcaudete  descry  the  army  of  the  besiegers  on  its  march  across 
the  hills  than  he  sallied  out,  at  the  head  of  his  cavalry,  to  annoy  them  on  their 
retreat  He  was  soon  joined  by  his  brother  from  Mazarquivir,  with  such  of 
the  garrison  as  were  in  condition  for  service.  But  the  enemy  had  greatly  the 
start  of  them.  When  the  Spaniards  came  up  with  his  rear-guard,  they  found 
it  entirely  composed  of  janizaries;  and  this  valiant  corps,  maintaining  its 
usual  discipline,  faced  about  and  opposed  so  determined  a  front  to  the  assail- 
ants that  Alcaudete,  not  caring  to  risk  the  advantages  he  had  already  gained, 
drew  oft  his  men  and  left  a  free  passage  to  the  enemy.  The  soldiers  of  the 
two  garrisons  now  mingled  together  and  congratulated  one  another  on  their 
happy  deliverance,  recounting  their  exploits  and  the  perils  and  privations  they 
had  endured  ;  while  Alcaudete,  embracing  his  heroic  brother,  could  hardly 
restrain  his  tears  as  he  gazed  on  his  wan,  emaciated  countenance  and  read 
there  the  story  of  his  sufferings. 

The  tidings  of  the  repulse  of  the  Moslems  were  received  with  unbounded 
joy  throughout  Spain.  The  deepest  sympathy  had  been  felt  for  the  brave 
men  who,  planted  on  the  outposts  of  the  empire,  seemed  to  have  been  aban- 
doned to  their  fate.  The  king  shared  in  the  public  sentiment,  and  showed  lii.s 
sense  of  the  gallant  conduct  of  Alcaudete  and  his  soldiers  hy  the  honours  and 
emoluments  he  bestowed  on  them.  That  nobleman,  besides  the  grant  of  a 
large  annual  revenue,  was  made  viceroy  of  Navarre.  His  brother,  Don  Martin 

M  Ferrera*.  Hist.  d'Espagne,  torn.  U.  p.  Ml. 


394  THE  OTTOMAN  EMPIRE. 

de  C6rdova,  received  the  encomisnda  of  Hornachos,  with  the  sum  of  six 
thousand  ducats.  Officers  of  inferior  rank  obtained  the  recompense  due  to 
their  merits.  Even  the  common  soldiers  were  not  forgotten  ;  and  the  govern- 
ment, with  politic  liberality,  settled  pensions  on  the  wives  and  children  of 
those  who  had  perished  in  the  siege." 

Philip  now  determined  to  follow  up  his  success  ;  and,  instead  of  confining 
himself  to  the  defensive,  he  prepared  to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's 
country.  His  first  care,  however,  was  to  restore  the  fortifications  of  Mazar- 
quivir,  which  soon  rose  from  their  ruins  in  greater  strength  and  solidity  than 
before.  He  then  projected  an  expedition  against  Penon  de  Velez  de  la 
Qomera,  a  place  situated  to  the  west  of  his  own  possessions  on  the  Barbary 
coast.  It  was  a  rocky  island-fortress,  which  from  the  great  strength  of  its 
defences,  as  well  as  from  its  natural  position,  was  deemed  impregnable.  It 
was  held  by  a  tierce  corsair,  whose  name  had  long  been  terrible  in  these  seas. 
In  the  summer  of  1564,  the  king,  with  the  aid  of  his  allies,  got  together  a 
powerful  armament  and  sent  it  at  once  against  Penon  de  Velez.  This  fortress 
did  not  make  the  resistance  to  have  been  expected ;  and,  after  a  siege  of 
scarcely  a  week's  duration,  the  garrison  submitted  to  the  superior  valour — or 
numbers— of  the  Christians.18 

This  conquest  was  followed  up,  the  ensuing  year,  by  an  expedition  under 
Don  Alvaro  Bazan,  the  first  marquis  of  Santa  Cruz, — a  name  memorable  in 
the  naval  annals  of  Castile.  The  object  of  the  expedition  was  to  block  up  the 
entrance  to  the  river  Tetuan,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  late  conquest.  The 
banks  of  this  river  had  long  been  the  refuge  of  a  horde  of  pestilent  marauders, 
who,  swarming  out  of  its  mouth,  spread  over  the  Mediterranean  and  fell 
heavily  on  the  commerce  of  the  Christians.  Don  Alvaro  accomplished  his 
object  in  the  face  of  a  desperate  enemy,  and,  after  some  hard  fighting,  suc- 
ceeded in  sinking  nine  brigantines  laden  with  stones  in  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
and  thus  effectually  obstructed  its  navigation.1' 

These  brilliant  successes  caused  universal  rejoicing  through  Spain  and  the 
neighbouring  countries.  They  were  especially  important  for  the  influence  they 
exerted  on  the  spirits  of  the  Christians,  depressed  as  these  had  been  by  a  long 
series  of  maritime  reverses.  The  Spaniards  resumed  their  ancient  confidence 
as  they  saw  that  victory  had  once  more  returned  to  their  banner  ;  and  their 
ships,  which  had  glidea  like  spectres  under  the  shadow  of  the  coast,  now, 
losing  their  apprehensions  of  the  corsair,  pushed  boldly  out  upon  the  deep. 
The  Moslems,  on  the  other  hand,  as  they  beheld  their  navies  discomfited  and 
one  strong  place  after  another  wrested  from  their  grasp,  lost  heart,  and  for  a 
time,  at  least,  were  in  no  condition  for  active  enterprise. 

But,  while  the  arms  of  Spain  were  thus  successful  in  chastising  the  Barbary 
corsairs,  rumours  reached  the  country  of  hostile  preparations  going  forward  in 

"  Ferreras,  Hist.  d'Espagne,  torn.  Ix.  p.  prudencfa  con  que  los  govern6:  por  lo  qnal 
442,  et  seq. — Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vl.  escoiuparadouqualquieradp  losniayoresCapi- 
cap.  13.— Campana,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  t..m.  tanes  del  tuundo."  Historia  general,  lib.  x. 
i.  pp.  137-139 — Herrera,  Hist,  general,  lib.  x.  cap.  4. 

cap.  4. — The  last  historian  closes  his  account  '•  Cabrera.  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vi.  cap.  18. 

of  the  sifge  of  Mazarquivir  with  the  following  — Herrera,  Hist,  general,  torn.  i.  p.  559,  et 

not  inelegant  and  certainly  not  parsimonious  seq. 

tribute  to  the  heroic  condu  t  of  Don  Martin  '*  The  affair  of  the  Rio  de  Tetuan  is  given 

and  liis  followers:   "Despues  de  noventa  y  at  length  in  the  despatches  of  Don  Alvavo 

dos  dias  que  sostuvo  este  terrible  cerco,  y  se  Bazan,   dated  at  Ceut-i,   March   10th,    1565. 

embarco  para  Espafia,  quedando  para  siempre  The  correspondence  of  this  commander  is  still 

glorioso  con  los  soldados  que  con  el  se  halla-  preserved    in    the  f;nnily    archives    of   the 

ron,  ellos  por  aver  sido  tan  obedientes.  y  por  marquis  of  Santa  Cruz,  from  which  the  copies 

las  bazanas  que  bizieron,  y  el  por  el  valor  y  in  my  possession  were  taken. 


MASTERS  OF  RHODES.  395 

the  East,  of  a  more  formidable  character  than  any  on  the  shores  of  Africa. 
The  object  of  these  preparations  was  not  Spain  itself,  but  Malta.  Yet  this 
little  island,  the  bulwark  of  Christendom,  was  so  intimately  connected  with  the 
fortunes  of  Spain  that  an  account  of  its  memorable  siege  can  hardly  be  deemed 
an  episode  in  the  history  of  Philip  the  Second. 


CHAPTER  IL 

THE  KNIGHTS  HOSPITALLERS  OP  ST.  JOHN. 

Masters  of  Rhodes — Driven  from  Rhodes — Established  at  Malta — Menaced  by  Solyman — 
La  Valette— His  Preparations  for  Defence. 

1565. 

THE  order  of  the  Knights  of  Malta  traces  its  origin  to  a  remote  period, — to  the 
time  of  the  first  crusade,  in  the  eleventh  century.  A  religious  association  was 
then  formed  in  Palestine,  under  the  title  of  Hospitallers  of  St.  -John  the 
Baptist,  the  object  of  which,  as  the  name  imports,  was  to  minister  to  the  wants 
of  the  sick.  There  was  a  good  liarvest  of  these  among  the  poor  pilgrims  who 
wandered  from  all  parts  of  Europe  to  the  Holy  Land.  It  was  not  long  before 
the  society  assumed  other  duties,  of  a  military  nature,  designed  for  the  defence 
of  the  pilgrim  no  less  than  his  relief ;  and  the  new  society,  under  the  name  of 
the  Knights  Hospitallers  of  St.  John,  besides  the  usual  monastic  vows/pledged 
themselves  to  defend  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  to  maintain  perpetual  war  against 
the  infidel.1 

In  its  new  form,  so  consonant  with  the  spirit  of  the  age,  the  institution 
found  favour  with  the  bold  crusaders,  and  the  accession  of  members  from 
different  parts  of  Christendom  greatly  enlarged  its  power  and  political  conse- 
quence. It  soon  rivalled  the  fraternity  of  the  Templars,  and,  like  that  body, 
became  one  of  the  principal  pillars  of  the  throne  of  Jerusalem.  After  the  fall 
of  that  kingdom  and  the  expulsion  of  the  Christians  from  Palestine,  the 
Knights  of  St.  John  remained  a  short  while  in  Cyprus,  when  they  succeeded 
in  conquering  Rhodes  from  the  Turks,  and  thus  secured  to  themselves  a 
permanent  residence. 

Placed  in  the  undisputed  sovereignty  of  this  little  island,  the  Knights  of 
Rhodes,  as  they  were  now  usually  called,  found  themselves  on  a  new  and  inde- 
pendent theatre  of  action,  where  they  could  display  all  the  resources  of  their 
institutions  and  accomplish  their  glorious  destinies.  Thrown  into  the  midst  of 
the  Mussulmans,  on  the  borders  of  the  Ottoman  Empire,  their  sword  was 
never  in  the  scabbard.  Their  galleys  spread  over  the  Levant,  and,  whether 
alone  or  with  the  Venetians,— the  rivals  of  the  Turks  in  those  seas, — they 
faithfully  fulfilled  their  vow  of  incessant  war  with  the  infidel.  Every  week 
saw  their  victorious  galleys  returning  to  port  with  the  rich  prizes  taken  from 
the  enemy  ;  and  every  year  the  fraternity  received  fresh  accessions  of  princes 
and  nobles  from  every  part  of  Christendom,  eager  to  obtain  admission  into  so 
illustrious  an  order.  Many  of  the«e  were  possessed  of  large  estates,  which,  on 
their  admission,  were  absorbed  in  those  of  the  community.  Their  manors, 
scattered  over  Europe,  far  exceeded  in  number  those  of  their  rivals,  the 

1  HP)  vol.  Hint.  de«  Ordrra  religleux  ct  mill-  Vcrtot,  History  of  the  Knights  of  Malta  (Eng. 
tulrcs  (I'atis,  1792,  4to),  torn.  til.  pp.  74-TtJ.—  Iran*.,  London,  1728,  1..M,  vol.  il.  pp.  18-24. 


396          THE  KNIGHTS  HOSPITALLERS  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

Templars,  in  their  most  palmy  state.*  And  on  the  suppression  of  that  order, 
such  of  its  vast  possessions  as  were  not  seized  by  the  rapacious  princes  in 
whose  territories  they  were  lodged  were  suffered  to  pass  into  the  hands  of  the 
Knights  of  St.  John.  The  connnanderies  of  the  latter — those  conventual 
establishments  which  faithfully  reflected  the  parent  institution  in  their  disci- 
pline— were  so  prudently  administered  that  a  large  surplus  from  their  revenues 
was  annually  remitted  to  enrich  the  treasury  of  the  order. 

The  government  of  this  chivalrous  fraternity,  as  provided  by  the  statutes 
which  formed  its  written  constitution,  was  in  its  nature  aristocratical.  At  the 
head  was  the  grand  master,  elected  by  the  knights  from  their  own  body,  and, 
like  the  doge  of  Venice,  holding  his  office  for  life,  with  an  authority  scarcely 
larger  than  that  of  this  dignitary.  The  legislative  and  judicial  functions  were 
vested  in  councils,  in  which  the  grand  master  enjoyed  no  higher  privilege  than 
that  of  a  double  vote.  But  his  patronage  was  extensive,  for  he  had  the 
nomination  to  the  most  important  offices,  both  at  home  and  abroad.  The 
variety  and  high-sounding  titles  of  these  offices  may  provoke  a  smile  in  the 
reader,  who  might  fancy  himself  occupied  with  the  concerns  of  a  great  empire, 
rather  than  those  of  a  little  brotherhood  of  monks.  The  grand  master,  indeed, 
in  his  manner  of  living,  affected  the  state  of  a  sovereign  prince.  He  sent  his 
ambassadors  to  the  principal  European  courts  ;  and  a  rank  was  conceded  to 
him  next  to  that  of  crowned  heads, — above  that  of  any  ducal  potentate.3 

He  was  enabled  to  maintain  this  position  by  the  wealth  which,  from  the 
sources  already  enumerated,  flowed  into  the  exchequer.  Great  sums  were 
spent  in  placing  the  island  in  the  best  state  of  defence,  in  constructing  public 
works,  palaces  for  the  grand  master,  and  ample  accommodations  for  the  various 
languages, — a  technical  term,  denoting  the  classification  of  the  members 
according  to  their  respective  nations ;  finally,  in  the  embellishment  of  the 
capital,  which  vied  in  the  splendour  of  its  architecture  with  the  finest  cities  of 
Christendom. 

Yet,  with  this  show  of  pomp  and  magnificence,  the  Knights  of  Rhodes  did 
not  sink  into  the  enervating  luxury  which  was  charged  on  the  Templars,  nor 
did  they  engage  in  those  worldly  ambitious  schemes  which  provoked  the 
jealousy  of  princes  and  brought  ruin  on  that  proud  order.  In  prosperity,  as 
in  poverty,  they  were  still  true  to  the  principles  of  their  institution.  Their 
galleys  still  spread  over  the  Levant,  and  came  back  victorious  from  their 
caravans,  as  their  cruises  against  the  Moslems  were  termed.  In  every  enter- 
prise set  on  foot  by  the  Christian  powers  against  the  enemies  of  the  Faith,  the 
red  banner  of  St.  John,  with  its  eight-pointed  cross  of  white,  was  still  to  be 
seen  glittering  in  the  front  of  battle.  There  is  no  example  of  a  military 
institution  having  religion  for  its  object  which,  under  every  change  of  con- 
dition and  for  so  many  centuries,  maintained  so  inflexibly  the  purity  of  its 
principles  and  so  conscientiously  devoted  itself  to  the  great  object  for  which  it 
was  created. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  a  mighty  power,  like  that  of  the  Turk;?,  would 
patiently  endure  the  existence  of  a  petty  enemy  on  its  borders,  which,  if  not 
formidable  from  extent  of  population  and  empire,  like  Venice,  was  even  more 
annoying  by  its  incessant  hostilities  and  its  depredations  on  the  Turkish 
commerce.  More  than  one  sultan,  accordingly,  hoping  to  rid  themselves  of 

*  Bolsgelin,  on  the  authority  of  Matthew  3  For  an  account  of  the  institutions  of  the 

Paris,  says  that  in  1224  the  knights  of  St.  order  of  St.  John,  see  Helyot,  Ordres  rcligieux, 

John  had  19,000  manors  in  different  pans  of  torn.  ii.  p.  58,  et  si-q.  ;  aUo  the  Old  and  New 

Europe,  while  the  Templars  had  but  9000.  Statutes,   appended  to    vol.    ii.    of   Vertot'a 

Ancient  and  Modern  Malta  (London,  1805,  History  of  the  Knights  of  Malta. 
4to),  vol.  ii.  p.  19. 


MASTERS  OF  RHODES.  397 

the  annoyance,  fitted  out  expeditions  against  the  island,  with  the  design  of 
crushing  the  hornets  in  their  nest.  But  in  every  attempt  they  were  foiled  by 
the  valour  of  this  little  band  of  Christian  chivalry.  At  length,  in  1522, 
Solyman  the  Second  led  an  expedition  in  person  against  Rhodes.  For  six 
months  the  brave  knights,  with  their  own  good  swords,  unaided  by  a  single 
European  power,  withstood  the  whole  array  of  the  Ottoman  Empire ;  and 
when  at  length  forced  to  surrender,  they  obtained  such  honourable  terms  from 
Solyman  as  showed  he  knew  how  to  respect  valour,  though  in  a  Christian  foe. 

Once  more  without  a  home,  the  Knights  of  St.  John  were  abroad  on  the 
world.  The  European  princes,  affecting  to  consider  the  order  as  now  extinct, 
prepared  to  confiscate  whatever  possessions  it  had  in  their  several  dominions. 
From  this  ruin  it  was  saved  by  the  exertions  of  L'Isle  Adam,  the  grand 
master,  who  showed,  at  this  crisis,  as  much  skill  in  diplomacy  as  he  had  before 
shown  prowess  in  the  field.  He  visited  the  principal  courts  in  person,  and  by 
his  insinuating  address,  as  well  as  arguments  not  only  turned  the  sovereigns 
from  their  pin-pose,  but  secured  effectual  aid  for  his  unfortunate  brethren. 
The  pope  offered  them  a  temporary  asylum  in  the  papal  territory ;  and  Charles 
the  Fifth  was  induced  to  cede  to  the  order  the  island  of  Malta  and  its  depen- 
dencies, with  entire  jurisdiction  over  them,  for  their  permanent  residence. 

Malta,  which  had  been  annexed  by  Charles's  predecessors  to  Sicily,  had 
descended  to  that  monarch  as  part  of  the  dominions  of  the  crown  of  Aragon. 
In  thus  ceding  it  to  the  Knights  of  St.  John  the  politic  prince  consulted  his 
own  interests  quite  as  much  as  those  of  the  order.  He  drew  no  revenue  from 
the  rocky  isle,  but,  on  the  contrary,  was  charged  with  its  defence  against  the 
Moorish  corsairs,  who  made  frequent  descents  on  the  spot,  wasting  the  country 
and  dragging  off  the  miserable  people  into  slavery.  By  this  transfer  of  the 
island  to  the  military  order  of  St.  John  he  not  only  relieved  himself  of  all 
further  expense  on  its  account,  but  secured  a  permanent  bulwark  for  the 
protection  of  his  own  dominions. 

It  was  wise  in  the  emperor  to  consent  that  the  gift  should  be  burdened  with 
no  other  condition  than  the  annual  payment  of  a  falcon  in  token  of  his  feudal 
supremacy.  It  was  also  stipulated  that  the  order  should  at  no  time  bear  arms 
against  Sicily  ;  a  stipulation  hardly  necessary  with  men  who,  by  their  vows, 
were  pledged  to  fight  in  defence  of  Christendom,  and  not  against  it.4 

In  October,  1530,  L'Isle  Adam  and  his  brave  associates  took  possession  of 
their  new  domain.  Their  hearts  sank  within  them  as  their  eyes  wandered 
over  the  rocky  expanse,  forming  a  sad  contrast  to  the  beautiful  "  land  of 
roses"  which  had  so  long  been  their  abode.1  But  it  was  not  very  long  before 
the  wilderness  before  them  was  to  blossom  like  the  rose,  under  their  diligent 
culture.8  Earth  was  brought  in  large  quantities,  and  at  great  cost,  from 
Sicily.  Terraces  to  receive  it  were  hewn  in  the  steep  sides  of  the  rock  ;  and 

4  The  original  deed  of  cession,  in  Latin,  in  Rhore,  thHr  spirits  rank  w  itliin  them  at  the 

published  by  Vertot,  Knights  of  Ma  to,  vol.  contrast  its  dry  and  IwiiTen  surface  presented 

II.  p.  157.  ft  wr).  to  their  delicious  lost  Rhodes  ;  1  have  quali- 

•  "  Rhodes,"  from  the  Greek  /..'..W.     The  fled  myself  for  adjudging  that  in  most  respects 
origin  of  the  name  is  referred  by  etymologists  the  tables  arc  now  turned  between  the  two 
to  the  great  quantity  of  ro*es  which  grew  wild  inlands   and  they  certainly    afford    a    very 
on  tbe  island.    The  name  of  Malta  (Melila)  decisive  criterion   of  the  results  of  Turkish 
is  traced  to  the  wild  honey,  ftt\t,  of  most  and  Christian  dominion."    The  Earl  of  Cur- 
excellent  flavour,  found  among  ita  rocks.  llslc's  Diary  In  Turkish  and  Greek   Waters 

•  A    recent  traveller,   aft«r  visiting   loth  (Boston,    1855),  p.   204 ;— an    unpretending 
HI  odes  and  Malta,  thus  alludes  to  tbe  change  volume,  which  bears  on  every  page  evidence 
in  the  relative  condition  of  the  two  islands  :  of  the   wise  and  tolerant  spirit,  the  var  ous 
14  We  are  told  that,  when  L'Isle   Adntn  and  scholarship,  and  the  sensibility  to  the  beanti- 
his   brave  companions  first   landed  on  thin  ful,  *•>  cturacteristlc  of  its  noble  author. 


398  THE  KNIGHTS  HOSPITALLERS  OF  ST.  JOHN. 

the  soil,  quickened  by  the  ardent  sun  of  Malta,  was  soon  clothed  with  the 
glowing  vegetation  of  the  South.  Still,  it  did  not  raise  the  grain  necessary 
for  the  consumption  of  the  island.  This  was  regularly  imported  from  Sicily, 
and  stored  in  large  pits  or  caverns,  excavated  in  the  rock,  which,  hermetically 
closed,  preserved  then'  contents  unimpaired  for  years.  In  a  short  time,  too, 
the  island  bristled  with  fortifications,  which,  combined  with  its  natural 
defences,  enabled  its  garrison  to  defy  the  attacks  of  the  corsair.  To  these 
works  was  added  the  construction  of  suitable  dwellings  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  order.  But  it  was  long  after,  and  not  until  the  land  had  been  desolated 
by  the  siege  on  which  we  are  now  to  enter,  that  it  was  crowned  with  the 
stately  edifices  that  eclipsed  those  of  Rhodes  itself,  and  made  Malta  the  pride 
of  the  Mediterranean.7 

In  their  new  position  the  knights  were  not  very  differently  situated  from 
what  they  had  been  in  the  Levant.  They  were  still  encamped  among  the 
infidel,  with  the  watch-fires  of  the  enemy  blazing  around  them.  Again  their 
galleys  sailed  forth  to  battle  with  the  corsairs  and  returned  laden  with  the 
spoils  of  victory.  Still  the  white  cross  of  St.  John  was  to  be  seen  in  the  post 
of  danger.  In  all  the  expeditions  of  Charles  the  Fifth  and  Philip  the  Second 
against  the  Barbary  Moors,  from  the  siege  of  Tunis  to  the  capture  of  Peuon 
de  Velez,  they  bore  a  prominent  part.  With  the  bravery  of  the  soldier  they 
combined  the  skill  of  the  mariner;  and  on  that  disastrous  day  when  the 
Christian  navy  was  scattered  before  Algiers,  the  Maltese  galleys  were  among 
the  few  that  rode  out  the  tempest.8  It  was  not  long  before  the  name  of  the 
Knights  of  Malta  became  as  formidable  on  the  southern  shores  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean as  that  of  the  Knights  of  Rhodes  had  been  in  the  East 

Occasionally  their  galleys,  sweeping  by  the  mouth  of  the  Adriatic,  passed 
into  the  Levant  and  boldly  encountered  their  old  enemy  on  his  own  seas,  even 
with  odds  greatly  against  them.9  The  Moors  of  the  Barbary  coast,  smarting 
under  the  losses  inflicted  on  them  by  their  indefatigable  foe,  more  than  once 
besought  the  sultan  to  come  to  their  aid  and  avenge  the  insults  offered  to  his 
religion  on  the  heads  of  the  offenders.  At  this  juncture  occurred  the  capture 
of  a  Turkish  galleon  in  the  Levant.  It  was  a  huge  vessel,  richly  laden,  and 
defended  by  twenty  guns  and  two  hundred  janizaries.  After  a  desperate 
action,  she  was  taken  by  the  Maltese  galleys,  and  borne  off,  a  welcome  prize, 
to  the  island.  She  belonged  to  the  chief  eunuch  of  the  imperial  harem,  some 
of  the  fair  inmates  of  which  were  said  to  have  had  an  interest  in  the  precious 
freight."  These  persons  now  joined  with  the  Moors  in  the  demand  for  ven- 

7  For  the  account  of  Malta  I  am  much  Fifth  was  told  that  some  vessels  appeared 

Indebted  to  Boisgelin,  "  Ancient  and  Modern  still  to  live  at  sea,  lie  exclaimed,  '  They  must 

Malta."    This  work  gives  the  most  complete  indeed  be  Maltese  galleys  which  can  outride 

view  of  Malta,  both  in  regard  to  the  natural  such  a  tempest ! '    The  high  opinion  he  had 

history  of  the  island  and  the  military  and  formed  of  this  fleet  was  fully  justified;  for 

political  history  of  the  order,  that  is  to  be  the  standard  of  the  order  was  so»n  in  sight." 

found  in  any  book  with  which  I  am  acquainted.  Boiegelin,  Ancient  and  Modern  Malta,  vol.  ii. 

It  is  a  large  repository  of  facts  crudely  put  p.  34. 

together,  with  little  to  boast  of  on  the  score  of  *  Ibid.,  p.  61,  et  alibi. 

Its  literary  execution,     it  is  interesting  as  the  '°  The  value  of  the  freight  was  estimated 

production  of  a  Knight  of  St.  John,  one  of  the  at  more  than  80,000  ducats:  "Se  estimo  la 

unhappy  few  who  survived  to  witness  the  prrsa    mas    de    ochenta     mil    ducados,    de 

treachery  of  his  brethren  and  the  extinction  sedas  de  lev-ante,  y  alombras  y  otras  cosas, 

of  his  order.    The  last  of  the  line,  he  may  cada  uno  piense  lo  que  se  diria  en  la  corte  del 

well  be   pardoned  if,  in   his  survey  of  the  Turco,  sobre  la  perdida  desta  nave  tan  pode- 

plorious  past,  he  should  now  and  then  sound  rosa,  y  tan  rica."    La  verdadera  Relaciun  de 

the   trumpet  of  glorification  somewhat  too  todo  lo  que  el  Afio  de  M.  D.  LXV.  ha  succe- 

londly.  dido  en  la  Isla  de  Malta,  por  Francisco  Balbi 

"  ••  The  galleys  of  the  order  alone  resisted  de  Correggio,  en  todo  el  Sitio  Soldado  (Barce- 

the  fury  of  the  waves ;  and  when  Charles  the  lona,  1568),  fol.  19. 


.PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEFENCE.  399 

geanee.  Solyman  shared  in  the  general  indignation  at  the  insult  offered  to 
him  under  the  walls,  as  it  were,  of  his  own  capital ;  and  he  resolved  to  sig- 
nalize the  close  of  his  reign  by  driving  the  knights  from  Malta,  as  he  had  the 
commencement  of  it  by  driving  them  from  Rhodes. 

As  ft  was  not  improbable  that  the  Christian  princes  would  rally  in  support 
of  an  order  which  had  fought  so  many  battles  for  Christendom,  Solyman  made 
his  preparations  on  a  formidable  scale.  Rumours  of  these  spread  far  and 
wide ;  and,  as  their  object  was  unknown,  the  great  powers  on  the  Mediterra- 
nean, each  fancying  that  its  own  dominions  might  be  the  point  of  attack,  lost 
no  time  in  placing  their  coasts  in  a  state  of  defence.  The  king  of  Spain  sent 
orders  to  his  viceroy  in  Sicily  to  equip  such  a  fleet  as  would  secure  the  safety 
of  that  island. 

Meanwhile,  the  grand  master  of  Malta,  by  means  of  spies  whom  he  secretly 
employed  in  Constantinople,  received  intelligence  of  the  real  purpose  of  the 
expedition.  The  post  of  grand  master,  at  this  time,  was  held  by  Jean  Parisot 
de  la  Valette,  a  man  whose  extraordinary  character,  no  less  than  the  circum- 
stances in  which  he  was  placed,  has  secured  him  an  imperishable  name  on 
the  page  of  history.  He  was  of  an  ancient  family  from  the  south  of  France, 
being  of  the  taw/uarje  of  Provence.  He  was  now  in  the  sixty-eighth  year  of 
his  age.11  In  his  youth  he  had  witnessed  the  memorable  siege  of  Rhodes, 
and  had  passed  successively  through  every  post  in  the  order,  from  the  humblest 
to  the  highest,  which  he  now  occupied.  With  large  experience  he  combined 
a  singular  discretion,  and  an  inflexible  spirit,  founded  on  entire  devotion  to 
the  great  cause  in  which  he  was  engaged.  It  was  the  conviction  of  this  self- 
devotion  which,  in  part  at  least,  may  have  given  La  Valette  that  ascendency 
over  the  minds  of  his  brethren  which  was  so  important  at  a  crisis  like  the 
present.  It  may  have  been  the  anticipation  of  such  a  crisis  that  led  to  his 
election  as  grand  master  in  1557,  when  the  darkness  coming  over  the  waters 
showed  the  necessity  of  an  experienced  pilot  to  weather  the  storm. 

No  sooner  had  the  grand  master  learned  the  true  destination  of  the  Turkish 
armament  than  he  sent  his  emissaries  to  the  different  Christian  powers, 
soliciting  aid  for  the  order  in  its  extremity.  He  summoned  the  Knights 
absent  in  foreign  lands  to  return  to  Malta  and  take  part  with  their  brethren 
in  the  comitig  struggle.  He  imported  large  supplies  of  provisions  and  military 
stores  from  Sicily  and  Spain.  He  drilled  the  militia  of  the  island,  and  formed 
an  elective  body  of  more  than  three  thousand  men  ;  to  which  was  added  a 
still  greater  number  of  Spanish  and  Italian  troops,  raised  for  him  by  the 
knights  who  were  abroad.  This  force  was  augmented  by  the  extraordinary 
addition  of  five  hundred  galley-slaves  whom  La  Valette  withdrew  from  the 
oar,  promising  to  give  them  their  freedom  if  they  served  him  faithfully. 
Lastly,  the  fortifications  were  put  in  repair,  strengthened  with  outworks,  and 
i»laced  in  the  best  condition  for  resisting  the  enemv.  All  classes  of  the  in- 
nahitants  joined  in  this  work.  The  knights  themselves  took  their  part  in  the 
toilsome  drudgery  ;  and  the  grand  master  did  not  disdain  to  labour  with  the 
humblest  of  his  followers.  He  not  only  directed,  but,  as  hands  were  wanted, 
he  set  the  example  of  carrying  his  own  orders  into  execution.  Wherever  his 
presence  was  needed,  he  was  to  be  found,— ministering  to  the  sick,  cheering 
the  desponding,  stimulating  the  indifferent,  chiding  the  dilatory,  watching 
over  the  interests  of  the  little  community  intrusted  to  his  care  with  parental 
solicitude. 

While  thus  employed,  La  Valotte  received  a  visit  from  the  Sicilian  viceroy, 
Don  Garcia  de  Toledo,  the  conqueror  of  Penon  de  Velez.  He  came,  by 

11  Balbi,  Vcrdadera  ReUcion,  fol.  17. 


400  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

Philip's  orders,  to  concert  with  the  grand  master  the  best  means  of  defence. 
He  assured  the  latter  that  so  soon  as  he  had  assembled  a  fleet  he  would  come 
to  his  relief ;  and  he  left  his  natural  son  with  him,  to  learn  the  art  of  war 
under  so  experienced  a  commander.  La  Valette  was  comforted  by  the  vice- 
roy's promises  of  succour.  But  he  well  knew  that  it  was  not  to  the  promises 
of  others  he  was  to  trust,  in  his  present  exigency,  but  to  his  own  efforts  and 
those  of  his  brave  companions. 

The  knights,  in  obedience  to  his  call,  had  for  the  most  part  now  arrived, 
each  bringing  with  him  a  number  of  servants  and  other  followers.  Some  few 
of  the  more  aged  and  infirm  remained  behind  ;  but  this  not  so  much  from 
infirmity  and  age  as  from  the  importance  of  having  some  of  its  members  to 
watch  over  the  interests  of  the  community  at  foreign  courts.  La  Valette  was 
touched  by  the  alacrity  with  which  his  brethren  repaired  to  their  posts,  to 
stand  by  their  order  in  the  dark  hour  of  its  fortunes.  He  tenderly  embraced 
them ;  and  soon  afterwards,  calling  them  together,  he  discoursed  with  them 
on  the  perilous  position  in  which  they  stood,  with  the  whole  strength  of  the 
Moorish  and  Turkish  empires  mustering  against  them.  "  It  was  the  great 
battle  of  the  Cross  and  the  Koran,"  he  said,  "  that  was  now  to  be  fought. 
They  were  the  chosen  soldiers  of  the  Cross ;  and,  if  Heaven  required  the 
sacrifice  of  their  lives,  there  could  be  no  better  time  than  this  glorious  occa- 
sion." The  grand  master  then  led  the  way  to  the  chapel  of  the  convent, 
where  .he  and  his  brethren,  after  devoutly  confessing,  partook  of  the  sacra- 
ment, and,  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  solemnly  renewed  their  vows  to  defend  the 
Church  against  the  infidel.  With  minds  exalted  by  these  spiritual  exercises, 
all  worldly  interests  seemed  from  that  moment,  says  their  historian,  to  lose  their 
hold  on  their  affections.  They  stood  like  a  company  of  martyrs, — the  forlorn 
hope  of  Christendom,  prepared,  as  their  chief  had  said,  to  oner  up  their  lives 
a  sacrifice  to  the  great  cause  in  which  they  were  engaged.  Such  were  the 
feelings  with  which  La  Valette  and  his  companions,  Raving  completed  their 
preparations,  now  calmly  awaited  the  coming  of  the  enemy." 


CHAPTER  III. 

SIEGE   OP   MALTA. 

Condition  of  Malta— Arrival  of  the  Turks— They  reconnoitre  the  Island -Siege  of  St.  Elmo- 
Its  Heroic  Defence — Its  Fail. 

1565. 

BEFORE  entering  on  the  particulars  of  this  memorable  siege,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  make  the  reader  somewhat  acquainted  with  the  country  which  was 
the  scene  of  operations.  The  island  of  Malta  is  about  seventeen  miles  long 
and  nine  broad.  At  the  time  of  the  siege  it  contained  some  twelve  thousand 
inhabitants,  exclusive  of  the  members  of  the  order.  They  were  gathered,  for 
the  most  part,  into  wretched  towns  and  villages,  the  principal  one  of  which 
was  defended  by  a  wall  of  some  strength,  and  was  dignified  with  the  title  of 

12  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  ii.  pp.  vol.  ii.  pp.  71-73.— De  Thou,  Hist,  univer- 

192-195. — Sagredo,  Monarcas  Othomanos,  p.  selle,  torn.  v.  pp.  51-53. — J.  M.  Calderon  de 

244.— Balbi,  Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.  20.  et  la  Barca.  Oloriosa  D.-fensa  de  Malta  (Madrid, 

seq.— B  .isgolin,  Ancient  and  Modem  Malta,  1796),  p.  2t. 


CONDITION  OF  THE  ISLAND.  401 

Civita  Notable, — "  Illustrious  City."  As  it  was  situated  in  the  interior,  near 
the  centre  of  the  island,  the  knights  did  not  take  up  their  residence  there  but 
preferred  the  north-eastern  part  of  Malta,  looking  towards  Sicily  and  affording 
a  commodious  harbour  for  their  galleys. 

The  formation  of  the  land  in  this  quarter  is  very  remarkable.  A  narrow 
rocky  promontory  stretches  out  into  the  Mediterranean,  dividing  its  waters 
into  two  small  gulfs, — that  on  the  west  being  called  Maria  Musiette,  or  Port 
Musiette,  and  that  towards  the  east,  which  now  bears  the  name  of  Valetta 
harbour,  being  then  known  as  the  Great  Port.  The  extreme  point  of  the 
promontory  was  crowned  by  the  castle  of  St.  Elmo,  built  by  the  order,  soon 
after  its  arrival  in  the  island,  on  the  spot  which  commanded  the  entrance  into 
both  harbours.  It  was  a  fortress  of  considerable  strength,  for  which  it  was 
chiefly  indebted  to  its  position.  Planted  on  the  solid  rock,  and  washed,  for 
the  greater  part  of  its  circuit,  by  the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  it  needed 
no  other  defence  on  that  quarter.  But  towards  the  land  it  was  more  open  to 
an  enemy  ;  and,  though  protected  by  a  dry  ditch  and  a  counterscarp,  it  was 
thought  necessary  to  secure  it  still  further  by  means  of  a  ravelin  on  the  south- 
west, which  La  Valette  had  scarcely  completed  before  the  arrival  of  the 
Turks. 

Port  Musiette,  on  the  west,  is  that  in  which  vessels  now  perform  quaran- 
tine. The  Great  Port  was  the  most  important ;  for  round  that  was  gathered 
the  little  community  of  knights.  Its  entrance,  which  is  not  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  in  width,  is  commanded  by  two  headlands,  one  of  them 
crested,  as  above  mentioned,  by  the  fort  of  St.  Elmo.  The  length  of  the 
harbour  may  be  nearly  two  miles ;  and  the  water  is  of  sufficient  depth  for 
ships  of  the  greatest  burden  to  ride  there  in  security,  sheltered  within  the 
encircling  anus  of  the  coast  from  the  storms  of  the  Mediterranean. 

From  the  eastern  side  of  this  basin  shoot  out  two  projecting  headlands, 
forming  smaller  harbours  within  the  Great  Port.  The  most  northerly  of  these 
strips  of  land  was  defended  by  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,  round  which  clustered 
a  little  town,  called  by  way  of  eminence  II  fioryo,  "  The  Burgh," — now  more 
proudly  styled  "  The  victorious  City."  It  was  here  that  the  order  took  up  its 
residence,— the  grand  masters  establishing  themselves  in  the  castle ;  and 
great  pains  were  taken  to  put  the  latter  in  a  good  state  of  defence,  while  the 
town  was  protected  bv  a  wall.  On  the  parallel  strip  of  land,  known  as  the 
island  of  La  Sangle,  from  a  grand  master  of  that  name,  stood  a  fort,  called 
the  fort  of  St.  Michael,  with  a  straggling  population  gathered  around  it,  now 
busily  employed  in  strengthening  tne  defences.  Between  the  two  headlands 
lay  the  Port  of  Gallevs,  serving,  as  its  name  imports,  as  a  haven  for  the  little 
navy  of  the  order.  This  port  was  made  more  secure  by  an  iron  chain  drawn 
across  its  entrance,  from  tne  extreme  point  of  one  headland  to  the  other. 

Such  were  the  works  constructed  by  the  knights  in  the  brief  period  during 
which  they  had  occupied  the  island.  They  were  so  far  imperfect  that  many 
a  commanding  eminence,  which  the  security  of  the  country  required  to  bje 
strongly  fortified,  still  remained  as  naked  and  exposed  as  at  the  time  of  their 
arrival.  This  imperfect  state  of  its  defences  presented  a  strong  contrast  to 
the  present  condition  of  Malta,  bristling  all  over  with  fortifications,  which 
seem  to  form  part  of  the  living  rock  out  of  which  they  spring,  and  which,  in 
the  hands  of  a  power  that  holds  possession  of  the  sea,  might  bid  defiance  to 
the  world. 

The  whole  force  which  La  Valette  could  muster  in  defence  of  the  island 
amounted  to  about  nine  thousand  men.  This  included  seven  hundred  knights, 
of  whom  about  six  hundred  had  already  arrived.  The  remainder  were  on 


402  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

their  way,  and  joined  him  at  a  later  period  of  the  siege.  Between  three  and 
four  thousand  were  Maltese,  irregularly  trained,  but  who  had  already  gained 
some  experience  of  war  in  theii^Contests  with  the  Barbary  corsairs.  The  rest 
of  the  army,  with  the  exception  of  five  hundred  galley-slaves,  already  noticed, 
and  the  personal  followers  of  the  knights,  was  made  up  of  levies  from  Spain 
and  Italy,  who  had  come  over  to  aid  in  the  defence.  The  useless  part  of  the 
population — the  infirm  and  the  aged — had  for  the  most  part  been  shipped  off 
to  Sicily.  There  still  remained,  however,  numbers  of  women  and  children  ; 
and  the  former,  displaying  the  heroic  constancy  which  in  times  of  trouble  so 
often  distinguishes  the  sex,  did  good  service  during  the  siege,  by  tending  the 
sick  and  by  cheering  the  flagging  spirits  of  the  soldier.1 

This  little  army  La  Valette  distributed  on  the  several  stations,  assigning 
each  to  some  one  of  the  languages,  or  nations,  that  the  spirit  of  emulation 
might  work  its  effects  on  the  chivalry  of  the  order.  The  castle  of  St.  Elmo 
was  the  point  of  first  importance.  It  covered  so  contracted  a  piece  of  ground 
that  it  scarcely  afforded  accommodation  for  a  thousand  men  ;  and  not  more 
than  eight  hundred  were  shut  up  within  its  walls  at  the  commencement  of  the 
siege.*  Its  dimensions  did  not  admit  of  its  being  provided  with  magazines 
capable  of  holding  any  large  quantity  of  provisions  or  military  stores,  f6r 
which  it  was  unfortunately  obliged  to  rely  on  its  communication  with  II  Borgo, 
the  town  across  the  harbour.  The  masonry  of  the  fort  was  not  in  the  best 
repute  ;  though  the  works  were  lined  with  at  least  thirty  pieces  of  artillery, 
looking  chiefly  towards  the  land.  Its  garrison,  which  usually  amounted  to 
sixty  soldiers,  was  under  the  command  of  an  aged  knight,  named  De  Broglio. 
The  grand  master  reinforced  this  body  with  sixty  knights  under  the  bailiff  of 
Negropont,  a  veteran  in  whose  well-tried  valour  La  Valette  placed  entire  con- 
fidence. He  was  strengthened  by  two  companies  of  foreign  levies,  under  the 
command  of  a  Spanish  cavalier  named  La  Cerda.3 

Various  other  points  were  held  by  small  detachments,  with  some  one  of  the 
order  at  the  head  of  each.  But  the  strength  of  the  force,  including  nearly  all 
the  remainder  of  the  knights,  was  postea  in  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo  and  in 
the  town  at  its  base.  Here  La  Valette  took  his  own  station,  as  the  spot 
which  by  its  central  position  would  enable  him  to  watch  over  the  interests  of 
the  whole.  All  was  bustle  in  this  quarter,  as  the  people  were  busily  employed 
in  strengthening  the  defences  of  the  town,  and  in  razing  buildings  in  the 
suburbs,  which  the  grand  master  feared  might  afford  a  lodgment  to  the 
enemy.  In  this  work  their  labours  were  aided  by  a  thousand  slaves,  taken 
from  the  prison,  and  chained  together  in  couples.4 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighteenth  of  May,  1565,  the  Turkish  fleet  was 
descried  by  the  sentinels  of  St.  Elmo  and  St.  Angelo,  about  thirty  miles  to 
the  eastward,  standing  directly  for,  Malta.  A  gun,  the  signal  agreed  on,  was 
fired  from  each  of  the  forts,  to  warn  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  to  with- 
draw into  their  villages.  The  fleet  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  thirty  royal 

1  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  ii.  p.  197.  dentro  para  pelear."    Balbi,  Verdadera  Rela- 

— Balbi,   Verdadera  Relacion,   fol.   28.— The  cion.  fol.  37. 

latter   chronicler,  who  gives  a  catalogue  of  3  Balbi,   Verdadera    Relacion,    fol.    31. — 

the  forces,  makes  the  total  amount  of  fighting-  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  ii.  p.  198. 
men  not  exceed  six  thousand  one  hundred.  *  "  En  este  tiempo  ya  todos  los  esclauos 

He  speaks,  however,  of  an  indefinite  number  assi  de  sant  Juan  como  de  particulares  es- 

besides  these,  including  a  thousand  slaves,  tauan  en  la  carcel,  que  seria  bien  mil  esclauos. 

who  in  various  ways  contributed  to  the  de-  Y  quando  los  sacauan  a  trabajar  a  las  postas 

fence  of  the  island.  adonde   se  trabajaua,  los  sacauan  de  dos  en 

"  "  De  modo  quc  quado  los  tufcos  llegaron  dos,  asidos  de  vna  cudena."    Balbi,  Verdadera 

sobre  sant  Ermo,  hauia  ochocientos  hombres  Kelacion,  fol.  37. 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  TURKS.  403 

galleys,  with  fifty  of  lesser  size,  besides  a  number  of  transports  with  the 
cannon,  ammunition,  and  other  military  stores.4  The  breaching-artillery 
consisted  of  sixty-three  guns,  the  smallest  of  which  threw  a  ball  of  fifty-six 
pounds,  and  some  few,  termed  basilicas,  carried  marble  bullets  of  a  hundred 
and  twelve  pounds'  weight.'  The  Turks  were  celebrated  for  the  enormous 
calibre  of  their  guns,  from  a  very  early  period ;  and  they  continued  to  employ 
those  pieces  long  after  they  had  given  way,  in  the  rest  of  Europe,  to  cannon 
of  more  moderate  and  manageable  dimensions. 

The  number  of  soldiers  on  board,  independently  of  the  mariners,  and  includ- 
ing six  thousand  janizaries,  was  about  thirty  thousand, — the  flower  of  the 
Ottoman  army.7  Their  appointments  were  on  the  most  perfect  scale,  and 
everything  was  provided  requisite  for  the  prosecution  of  the  siege.  Never, 
probably,  had  there  been  seen  so  magnificent  an  armament  in  the  waters  of 
the  Mediterranean.  It  was  evident  that  Solyman  was  bent  on  the  extermi- 
nation of  the  order  which  he  had  once  driven  into  exile,  but  which  had  now 
renewed  its  strength  and  become  the  most  formidable  enemy  of  the  Crescent. 

The  command  of  the  expedition  was  intrusted  to  two  officers.  One  of  these, 
Piali,  was  the  same  admiral  who  defeated  the  Spaniards  at  Gelves.  He  had 
the  direction  of  the  naval  operations.  The  land-forces  were  given  to  Mustapha, 
a  veteran  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  whose  great  experience,  combined  with 
military  talents  of  a  high  order,  had  raised  him  to  the  head  of  his  profession. 
Unfortunately,  his  merits  as  an  officer  were  tarnished  by  his  cruelty.  Besides 
the  command  of  the  army,  he  had  a  general  authority  over  the  whole  expe- 
dition, which  excited  the  jealousy  of  Piali,  who  thought  himself  injured  by 
the  preference  given  to  his  rival.  Thus  feelings  of  mutual  distrust  arose  in 
the  bosoms  of  the  two  chiefs,  which  to  some  extent  paralyzed  the  operations 
of  each. 

The  Turkish  armada  steered  for  the  south-eastern  quarter  of  the  island, 
and  cast  anchor  in  the  port  of  St.  Thomas.  The  troops  speedily  disembarked, 
and  spread  themselves  in  detached  bodies  over  the  land,  devastating  the 
country,  and  falling  on  all  stragglers  whom  they  met  in  the  fields.  Mustapha, 
with  the  main  body  of  the  army,  marching  a  short  distance  into  the  interior, 
occupied  a  rising  ground  only  a  few  miles  from  II  Borgo.  It  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  the  inhabitants  could  be  prevented  from  issuing  from  the  gates,  in 
order  to  gaze  on  the  show  presented  by  the  invaders,  whose  magnificent  array 
stretched  far  beyond  the  hills,  with  their  bright  arms  and  banners  glittering 
in  the  sun,  and  their  warlike  music  breathing  forth  notes  of  defiance  to  the 
Christians.  La  Valette,  in  his  turn,  caused  the  standard  of  St.  John  to  be 
unfurled  from  the  ramparts  of  the  castle,  and  his  trumpets  to  answer  in  a 
similar  strain  of  defiance  to  that  of  the  enemy.* 

Meanwhile,  the  grand  marshal,  Coppier,  had  sallied  from  the  town  at  the 
head  of  a  small  troop  and  fallen  upon  some  of  the  detachments  which  were 
scouring  the  country.  The  success  of  his  arms  was  shown  by  the  gory  heads 
of  the  slaughtered  Turks,  which  he  sent  back  to  II  Borgo  as  the  trophies  of 
victory.1  La  Valette's  design  in  permitting  these  encounters  was  to  familiarize 
his  men  with  the  novel  aspect  and  peculiar  weapons  of  their  enemies,  as  well 

'  Balbt,  Verdadera  Relaclon,  fol.  23.  pound*. 

•  Ibid.,  fol.  21.— Vertot  nays,  of  a  hundred  '  Balbl.  Verdadera  Reladon.  fol.  26.— The 

and  sixty  pound*'  weight  (Knights  of  Malta,  old  noldler  goes  Into  the  composition  of  the 

vol.  II.  p.  202).     Yet  even  this  waa  far  sur-  Turkish    fore*-,   In   the  general   estimate    of 

passed  by  the  mammoth  cannon   employed  which  he  does  not  differ  widely  from  Vertot. 
by  Mabom>t  at  the  siege  of  Constantinople,  In  '  Ibid.,  fol.  34. 

the   preceding  century,  which,   according  to  *  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

Gibbon,  threw  stone  bullets  of  six  hundred 


404  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

as  the  fierce  war-cries  which  the  Turks  raised  in  battle.  But  the  advantages 
gained  in  these  skirmishes  did  not  compensate  the  losses,  however  light,  on  the 
part  of  the  Christians ;  and  after  two  knights  and  a  number  of  the  common 
file  had  been  slain,  the  grand  master  ordered  his  followers  to  remain  quietly 
within  the  walls  of  the  town. 

It  was  decided,  in  the  Turkish  council  of  war,  to  begin  operations  with  the 
siege  of  the  castle  of  St.  Elmo,  as  the  possession  of  this  place  was  necessary  to 
secure  a  safe  harbour  for  the  Turkish  fleet.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  May  the 
trenches  were  opened, — if  that  can  be  said  where,  from  the  rocky,  impene- 
trable nature  of  the  ground,  no  trenches  could  be  dug,  and  the  besiegers  were 
obliged  to  shelter  themselves  behind  a  breastwork  formed  of  planks,  having  the 
space-  between  them  filled  with  earth  brought  from  a  distance,  and  held 
together  by  straw  and  rushes.  At  certain  intervals  Mustapha  indicated  the 
points  for  batteries.  The  principal  of  these  was  a  battery  where  ten  guns  were 
mounted,  some  of  them  of  the  largest  calibre ;  and  although  artillery-practice 
was  very  different  from  what  it  is  in  our  times,  with  so  much  greater  expe- 
rience and  more  manageable  engines,  yet  masonry  stronger  than  that  of  St. 
Elmo  might  well  have  crumbled  under  the  masses  of  stone  and  iron  that  were 
now  hurled  against  it. 

As  the  works  began  to  give  way,  it  seemed  clear  that  the  garrison  must  rely 
more  on  their  own  strength  than  on  that  of  their  defences.  It  was  resolved, 
therefore,  to  send  to  the  grand  master  and  request  reinforcements.  The  Che- 
valier de  la  Cerda  was  intrusted  with  the  mission.  Crossing  over  to  II  Borgo, 
he  presented  himself  before  La  Valette  and  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  further 
support  if  the  fort  was  to  be  maintained  against  the  infidel.  The  grand 
master  listened,  with  a  displeasure  which  he  could  not  conceal,  to  this  applica- 
tion for  aid  so  early  in  the  siege,  especially  as  it  was  made  in  the  presence  of 
many  of  the  knights,  who  might  well  be  disheartened  by  it.  He  coldly  asked 
La  Oerda  what  loss  the  garrison  had  suffered.  The  knight,  evading  the  ques- 
tion, replied  that  St.  Elmo  was  in  the  condition  of  a  sick  man  who  requires 
the  aid  of  the  physician.  "  I  will  be  the  physician,1'  said  La  Valette,  "  and 
will  bring  such  aid  that,  if  I  cannot  cure  your  fears,  I  may  at  least  hope  to 
save  the  place  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy."  So  impressed  was 
he  with  the  importance  of  maintaining  this  post  to  the  last  extremity,  if  it 
were  only  to  gain  time  for  the  Sicilian  succours,  that  he  was  prepared,  as  he 
said,  to  throw  himself  into  the  fortress,  and,  if  need  were,  to  bury  himself  in 
its  ruins. 

From  this  desperate  resolution  he  was  dissuaded  by  the  unanimous  voice  of 
the  knights,  who  represented  to  him  that  it  was  not  the  duty  of  the  com- 
mander-in -chief  to  expose  himself  like  a  common  soldier  and  take  his  place  in 
the  forlorn  hope.  The  grand  master  saw  the  justice  of  these  remonstrances ; 
and,  as  the  knights  contended  with  one  another  for  the  honour  of  assuming 
the  post  of  danger,  he  allowed  fifty  of  the  order,  together  with  two  companies 
of  soldiers,  to  return  with  La  Cerda  to  the  fort.  The  reinforcement  was  placed 
under  command  of  the  Chevalier  de  Medrano,  a  gallant  soldier,  on  whose  con- 
stancy and  courage  La  Valette  knew  he  could  rely.  Before  his  departure,  the 
strength  of  the  force  was  increased  by  the  arrival  of  several  knights  from 
Sicily,  who  obtained  the  grand  master's  leave  to  share  the  fortunes  of  their 
brethren  in  St.  Elmo.  The  troops  were  sent  across  the  harbour,  together 
with  supplies  of  food  and  ammunition,  in  open  boats,  under  cover  of  a  heavy 
fire  from  the  guns  of  St.  Angelo.  A  shot  happened  to  fall  on  a  stone  near  the 
trenches,  in  which  Piali,  the  Turkish  admiral,  was  standing ;  and,  a  splinter 
striking  him  on  the  head,  he  was  severely,  though  not  mortally,  wounded.  La 


HEROIC  DEFENCE  OF  ST.  ELMO.  405 

Valette  took  advantage  of  the  confusion  created  by  this  incident  to  despatch  a 
galley  to  Sicily,  to  quicken  the  operations  of  the  viceroy  and  obtain  from  him 
the  promised  succours.  To  this  Don  Garcia  de  Toledo  replied  by  an  assurance 
that  he  should  come  to  his  relief  by  the  middle  of  June.10 

It  was  now  the  beginning  of  that  month.  Scarcely  had  Medrano  entered 
St.  Elmo  when  he  headed  a  sally  against  the  Turks,  slew  many  in  the  trenches, 
and  put  the  remainder  to  flight  But  they  soon  returned  in  such  overwhelm- 
ing force  as  compelled  the  Christians  to  retreat  and  take  refuge  within  their 
works.  Unfortunately,  the  smoke  of  the  musketry,  borne  along  by  a  southerly 
breeze,  drifted  in  the  direction  of  the  castle  ;  and  under  cover  of  it  the  Turks 
succeeded  in  getting  possession  of  the  counterscarp.  As  the  smoke  cleared 
away,  the  garrison  were  greatly  dismayed  at  seeing  the  Moslem  standard 
planted  on  their  own  defences.  It  was  in  vain  they  made  every  effort  to 
recover  them.  The  assailants,  speedily  intrenching  themselves  behind  a 
parapet  formed  of  gabions,  fascines,  ana  wool- sacks,  established  a  permanent 
lodgment  on  the  counterscarp. 

From  this  point  they  kept  up  a  lively  discharge  of  musketry  on  the  ravelin, 
killing  such  of  its  defenders  as  ventured  to  show  themselves.  An  untoward 
event  soon  put  them  in  possession  of  the  ravelin  itself.  A  Turkish  engineer, 
reconnoitring  that  outwork  from  the  counterscarp,  is  said  to  have  perceived  a 
sentinel  asleep  on  his  post.  He  gave  notice  to  his  countrymen  ;  and  a  party 
of  janizaries  succeeded,  by  means  of  their  ladders,  in  scaling  the  walls  of  the 
ravelin.  The  guard,  though  few  in  number  and  taken  oy  surprise,  still 
endeavoured  to  maintain  the  place.  A  sharp  skirmish  ensued.  But  the 
Turks,  speedily  reinforced  by  their  comrades,  who  flocked  to  their  support, 
overpowered  the  Christians  and  forced  them  to  give  way.  Some  few  succeeded 
in  effecting  their  retreat  into  the  castle.  The  janizaries  followed  close  on  the 
fugitives.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  Moslem  and  Christian  would  both  be 
hurried  along  by  the  tide  of  battle  into  the  fort  itself.  But  fortunately  the 
bailiff  of  Negropont,  Medrano,  and  some  other  cavaliers,  heading  their  fol- 
lowers, threw  themselves  on  the  enemy  and  checked  the  pursuit.  A  desperate 
struggle  ensued,  in  which  science  was  of  no  avail,  and  victory  waited  on  the 
strongest.  In  the  end  the  janizaries  were  forced  to  retreat  in  their  turn. 
Every  inch  of  ground  was  contested  ;  until  the  Turks,  pressed  hard  by  their 
adversaries,  feff  back  into  the  ravelin,  where,  with  the  aid  of  their  comrades, 
they  made  a  resolute  stand  against  the  Christians.  Two  cannon  of  the 
fortress  were  now  brought  to  bear  on  the  outwork.  But  though  their  volleys 
told  with  murderous  effect,  the  Turks  threw  themselves  into  the  midst  of  the 
fire,  and  fearlessly  toiled,  until,  by  means  of  gabions,  sand-bags,  and  other 
materials,  they  had  built  up  a  parapet  which  secured  them  from  annoyance. 
All  further  contest  was  rendered  useless  ;  and  the  knights,  abandoning  this 
iniii'Ttant  outwork  to  the  assailants,  sullenly  withdrew  into  the  fortress.'1 

While  this  was  going  on,  a  fresh  body  of  Turks,  bursting  into  the  ditch 
through  a  breach  in  the  counterscarp,  endeavoured  to  carry  the  fortress  by 

'•  Balbl.  Verdadera   Roladon,   fol.  37,  et  and   was  connected  with  the  ravelin   by  a 

•eq. — Vertot,   KulgbU  or  Malta,  vol.  ii.  pp.  bridge,  the  powws.-ion  of  which   was   hotly 

200-202. —Calderon,     Glorioxa     Detenu    de  conU-rted    by    the    combatant*.     Ralbl,    the 

Malta,  p.  42.  -Cabrera,  Kilipe  Seguniio,  lib.  Span  lull    noldier,   so    often  quoted,— one    of 

vi.  cap.  24.  tin-  actorx  in  the  siege,  though  stationed  at  the 

"  In  Vertot'i  account  of  this  affair,  much  fort  of  St.  Michael,— opeakH  of  the  fight  a* 

U  said  of  a  nondescript  outwork,  termed  a  carried  on  in  the  ditch,     ilia  account  h»8  tlic 

earalirr, — conveying    a  di  ft.  rent  Idea  from  merit  of  being  at  once  the  briefest  i.ud  the 

what  in  uiid<>rst"o<l  by  that  word  iu  UIO.UTH  most  intelligible, 
fortifications.     It   stood   without   the   walls. 


406  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

escalade.  Fortunately,  their  ladders  were  too  short ;  and  the  garrison,  plying 
them  with  volleys  of  musketry,  poured  down  at  the  same  time  such  a  torrent 
of  missiles  on  their  heads  as  soon  strewed  the  ditch  with  mangled  limbs  and 
carcasses.  At  this  moment  a  party,  sallying  from  the  fort,  fell  on  the  enemy 
with  great  slaughter,  and  drove  them — such  as  were  in  condition  to  fly — back 
into  their  trenches. 

The  engagement,  brought  on,  as  we  have  seen,  by  accident,  lasted  several 
hours.  The  loss  of  the  Turks  greatly  exceeded  that  of  the  garrison,  which 
amounted  to  less  than  a  hundred  men,  twenty  of  whom  were  members  of  the 
order.  But  the  greatest  loss  of  the  besieged  was  that  of  the  counterscarp  and 
ravelin.  Thus  shorn  of  its  outworks,  the  castle  of  St.  Elmo  stood  like  some 
bare  and  solitary  trunk  exposed  to  all  the  fury  of  the  tempest.1* 

The  loss  of  the  ravelin  gave  the  deepest  concern  to  La  Valette,  which  was  not 
mitigated  by  the  consideration  that  it  was  to  be  charged,  in  part  at  least,  on 
the  negligence  of  its  defenders.  It  made  him  the  more  solicitous  to  provide  for 
the  security  of  the  castle ;  and  he  sent  his  boats  over  to  remove  the  wounded 
and  replace  them  by  an  equal  number  of  able-bodied  knights  and  soldiers.  It 
was  his  intention  that  the  garrison  should  not  be  encumbered  with  any  who 
were  unable  to  assist  in  the  defence.  Among  the  new  recruits  was  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Miranda, — one  of  the  most  illustrious  members  of  the  order,  who  had 
lately  arrived  from  Sicily, — a  soldier  whose  personal  authority,  combined  with 
great  military  knowledge,  proved  eminently  useful  to  the  garrison. 

The  loss  which  the  besiegers  had  sustained  in  the  late  encounter  was  more 
than  counterbalanced  by  the  arrival,  at  this  time,  of  Dragut,  the  famous  pasha 
of  Tripoli,  with  thirteen  Moorish  galleys.  He  was  welcomed  by  salvos  of 
artillery  and  the  general  rejoicing  of  the  army ;  and  this  not  so  much  on 
account  of  the  reinforcement  which  he  Drought — the  want  of  which  was  not 
then  felt— as  of  his  reputation  ;  for  he  was  no  less  celebrated  as  an  engineer 
than  as  a  naval  commander.  The  sultan,  who  had  the  highest  opinion  of  his 
merits,  had  ordered  his  generals  to  show  him  the  greatest  deference ;  and 
they  at  once  advised  with  him  as  to  the  best  means  of  prosecuting  the  siejre. 
The  effect  of  his  counsel  was  soon  seen  in  the  more  judicious  and  efficient 
measures  that  were  adopted.  A  battery  of  four  culverins  was  established  on 
the  western  headland  commanding  the  entrance  of  Port  Musiette.  It  was 
designed  to  operate  on  the  western  flank  of  the  fortress ;  and  the  point  of 
land  on  which  it  stood  is  still  known  by  the  name  of  the  redoubtable  corsair. 

Another  battery,  much  more  formidable  from  the  number  and  size  of  the 
pieces,  was  raised  on  an  eminence  to  the  south  of  St.  Elmo,  and  played  both 
upon  that  fort  and  upon  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo.  The  counterscarp  of  the 
former  fortress  was  shaved  away,  so  as  to  allow  a  free  range  to  the  artillery  of 
the  besiegers  ;  "  and  two  cannon  were  planted  on  the  ravelin,  which  directed 
a  searching  fire  on  the  interior  of  the  fortress,  compelling  the  garrison  to 
shelter  themselves  behind  retrenchments  constructed  under  the  direction  of 
Miranda.14 

The  artillery  of  the  Turks  now  opened  with  dreadful  effect,  as  they  concen- 
trated their  fire  on  the  naked  walls  of  St.  Elmo.  No  masonry  could  long 
withstand  the  tempest  of  iron  and  ponderous  marble  shot  which  was  hurled 

"  Batbi,  Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.  40,  41.—  »  Balbi,  Verdadera  Kelacdm.  fol.  39. 

Vertot,  Knights  of  Malia,  vol.  ii.  pp.  203-  "  Ibid.,     fol.    39-42 Calderon,    Gloriosa 

205.— Calderun,   Gloriosa  Defensa  de  Malta,  Defensa  de   Malta,  p.   46.— De   Thou.   Hist, 

p.  48.  et  seq. — Sagredo,  Monarcas  Othomanos,  universelle,  torn.  v.  p.  58.— Vertot,  Knights 

p.     245.— Cabrera.   Filipe    Segundo,    lib.   vi.  of  Malta,  vol.  ii.  p.  204.— Miniana,  Hist,  de 

cap.  24.  — H  Trera,  Historia  g  neral,  lib.  xii.  Espafla,  p.  350. 
cap.  4. 


HEROIC  DEFENCE  OF  ST.  ELMO.  407 

from  the  gigantic  engines  of  the  besiegers.  Fragments  of  the  wall  fell  off 
as  if  it  had  been  made  of  plaster  ;  and  St.  Elmo  trembled  to  its  foundations 
under  the  thunders  of  the  terrible  ordnance.  The  heart  of  the  stoutest 
warrior  might  well  have  faltered  as  he  saw  the  rents  each  day  growing  wider 
and  wider,  as  if  gaping  to  give  entrance  to  the  fierce  multitude  that  was 
swarming  at  the  gates. 

In  this  extremity,  with  the  garrison  wasted  by  the  constant  firing  of  the 
enemy,  worn  down  by  excessive  toil,  many  of  the  knights  wounded,  ah1  of  them 
harassed  by  long-protracted  vigils,  it  was  natural  that  the  greater  part  should 
feel  they  had  done  all  that  duty  required  of  them,  and  that  without  loss  of 
honour  they  might  retire  from  a  post  that  was  no  longer  tenable.  They 
accordingly  resolved  to  apply  to  the  grand  master  to  send  his  boats  at  once  to 
transport  them  and  the  rest  of  the  garrison  to  II  Borgo.  The  person  whom 
they  chose  for  the  mission  was  the  Chevalier  de  Medrano,  who,  as  La 
Valette  would  know,  was  not  likely  to  exaggerate  the  difficulties  of  their 
situation. 

Medrano  accordingly  crossed  the  harbour,  and,  in  an  interview  with  the 
grand  master,  explained  the  purpose  of  his  visit.  He  spoke  of  the  dilapidated 
state  of  the  fortifications,  and  dwelt  on  the  forlorn  condition  of  the  garrison, 
which  was  only  to  be  sustained  by  constant  reinforcements  from  11  Borgo. 
But  this  was  merely  another  mode  of  consuming  the  strength  of  the  order. 
It  would  be  better,  therefore,  instead  of  prolonging  a  desperate  defence, 
which  must  end  in  the  ruin  of  the  defenders,  to  remove  them  at  once  to  the 
town,  where  they  could  make  common  cause  with  their  brethren  against  the 
enemy. 

La  Valette  listened  attentively  to  Medrano's  arguments,  which  were  well 
deserving  of  consideration.  But,  as  the  affair  was  of  the  last  importance  to 
the  interests  of  his  little  community,  he  chose  to  lay  it  before  the  council  of 
Grand  Crosses, — men  who  filled  the  highest  stations  in  the  order.  They  were 
unanimously  of  the  same  opinion  as  Medrano.  Not  so  was  La  Valette.  He 
felt  that  with  the  maintenance  of  St.  Elmo  was  connected  the  very  existence 
of  the  order.  The  viceroy  of  Sicily,  he  told  his  brethren,  had  declared  that  if 
this  strong  post  were  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy  he  would  not  hazard  his 
master's  fleet  there  to  save  the  island.  And,  next  to  their  own  good  swords, 
it  was  on  the  Sicilian  succours  that  they  must  rely.  The  knights  must  main- 
tain the  post  at  all  hazards.  The  viceroy  could  not  abandon  them  in  their 
need.  He  himself  would  not  desert  them.  He  would  keep  them  well  supplied 
with  whatever  was  required  for  their  defence,  and,  if  necessary,  would  go  over 
and  take  the  command  in  person,  and  make  good  the  place  against  the  infidel, 
or  die  in  the  breach. 

The  elder  knights,  on  learning  the  grand  master's  decision,  declared  their 
resolution  toabiae  by  it.  They  knew  how  lightly  he  held  his  life  in  comparison 
with  the  cause  to  which  it  was  consecrated  ;  and  they  avowed  their  determina- 
tion to  shed  the  last  drop  of  their  blood  in  defence  of  tne  post  intrusted  to  them. 
The  younger  brethren  were  not  so  easily  reconciled  to  the  decision  of  their 
superiors.  To  remain  there  longer  was  a  wanton  sacrifice  of  life,  they  said. 
They  were  penned  up  in  the  fort,  like  sheen,  tamely  waiting  to  be  devoured 
by  tne  fierce  wolves  that  were  thirsting  for  their  blood.  This  they  could  not 
endure ;  and,  if  the  grand  master  did  not  send  to  take  them  off  at  once,  they 
would  sally  out  against  the  enemy  and  find  an  honourable  death  on  the  field 
of  battle.  A  letter  signed  by  fifty  of  the  knights,  expressing  their  determina- 
tion, was  accordingly  despatched  r>y  one  of  their  number  to  II  Borgo. 

La  Valette  received  the  communication  with  feelings  in  which  sorrow  was 


408  SIEGE  OF   MALTA. 

mingled  with  indignation.  It  was  not  enough,  he  said,  for  them  to  die  the 
honourable  death  which  they  so  much  coveted.  They  must  die  in  the  manner 
he  prescribed.  They  were  bound  to  obey  his  commands.  He  reminded  them 
of  the  vows  taken  at  the  time  of  their  profession,  and  the  obligation  of  every 
loyal  knight  to  sacrifice  his  life,  if  necessary,  for  the  good  of  the  order.  Nor 
would  they  gain  anything,  he  added,  by  abandoning  their  post  and  returning 
to  the  town.  The  Turkish  army  would  soon  be  at  its  gates,  and  the  viceroy 
of  Sicily  would  leave  them  to  their  fate. 

That  he  might  not  appear,  however,  to  pass  too  lightly  by  their  re- 
monstrances, La  Valette  determined  to  send  three  commissioners  to  inspect 
St.  Elmo  and  report  on  its  condition.  This  would  at  least  have  the  advantage 
of  gaining  time,  when  every  hour  gained  was  of  importance.  He  also  sent  to 
Sicily  to  remonstrate  on  the  tardiness  of  the  viceroy  s  movements,  and  to  urge 
the  necessity  of  immediate  succours  if  he  would  save  the  castle. 

The  commissioners  were  received  with  joy  by  the  refractory  knights,  whom 
they  found  so  intent  on  their  departure  that  they  were  already  beginning  to 
throw  the  shot  into  the  wells,  to  prevent  its  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Turks. 
They  eagerly  showed  the  commissioners  every  part  of  the  works,  the  ruinous  con 
dition  of  which,  indeed,  spoke  more  forcibly  than  the  murmurs  of  the  garrison. 
Two  of  the  body  adopted  the  views  01  the  disaffected  party,  and  pronounced 
the  fort  no  longer  tenable.  But  the  third,  an  Italian  cavalier,  named  Castriot, 
was  of  a  different  way  of  thinking.  The  fortifications,  l;e  admitted,  were  in 
a  bad  state,  but  it  was  far  from  a  desperate  one.  With  fresh  troops  and  the 
materials  that  could  be  furnished  from  the  town,  they  might  ppon  be  put  in 
condition  to  hold  out  for  some  time  longer.  Such  an  opinion,  so  boldly 
avowed,  in  opposition  to  the  complaints  of  the  knights,  touched  their  honour. 
A  hot  dispute  arose  between  the  parties  ;  and  evil  consequences  might  have 
ensued,  had  not  the  commander,  De  Broglio,  and  the  bailiff  of  Negropont, 
to  stop  the  tumult,  caused  the  alarm-bell  to  be  rung,  which  sent  every  knight 
to  his  post. 

Castriot,  on  bis  return,  made  a  similar  report  to  the  grand  master,  and 
boldly  offered  to  make  good  his  words.  If  La  Valette  would  allow  him  to 
muster  a  force,  he  would  pass  over  to  St.  Elmo  and  put  it  in  condition  still 
to  hold  out  against  the  Ottoman  arms. 

La  Valette  readily  assented  to  a  proposal  which  he  may  perhaps  have 
originally  suggested.  No  compulsion  was  to  be  used  in  a  service  of  to  much 
danger.  But  volunteers  speedily  came  forward,  knights,  soldiers,  and  inhabi- 
tants of  both  town  and  country.  The  only  difficulty  was  in  making  the 
selection.  All  eagerly  contended  for  the  glory  of  being  enrolled  in  this  little 
band  of  heroes. 

La  Valette  was  cheered  by  the  exhibition  of  this  generous  spirit  in  his 
followers.  It  gave  assurance  of  success  stronger  than  was  to  be  derived  from 
any  foreign  aid.  He  wrote  at  once  to  the  discontented  knights  in  St.  Elmo  and 
informed  them  of  what  had  been  done.  Their  petition  was  now  granted. 
They  should  be  relieved  that  very  evening.  They  had  only  to  resign  their 
posts  to  their  successors.  "  Return,  my  brethren,"  he  concluded,  "  to  the  con- 
vent. There  you  will  be  safe  for  the  present ;  and  i  shall  have  less  apprehen- 
sion for  the  fate  of  the  fortress,  on  which  the  preservation  of  the  island  so 
much  depends." 

The  knights,  who  had  received  some  intimation  of  the  course  the  affair  was 
taking  in  11  Borgo,  were  greatly  disconcerted  by  it.  To  surrender  to  others 
the.  post  committed  to  their  own  keeping  would  be  a  dishonour  they  could  not 
endure.  When  the  letter  of  the  grand  master  arrived,  their  mortification  was 


HEROIC  DEFENCE  OF  ST.  ELMO.  409 

extreme ;  and  it  was  not  diminished  by  the  cool  and  cutting  contempt  but 
thinly  veiled  under  a  show  of  solicitude  for  their  personal  safety.  They  im- 
plored the  bailiff  of  Negropont  to  write  in  their  name  to  La  Valette  and 
beseech  him  not  to  subject  them  to  such  a  disgrace.  They  avowed  their 
penitence  for  the  course  they  had  taken,  and  only  asked  that  they  might  now 
be  allowed  to  give  such-  proofs  of  devotion  to  the  cause  as  should  atone  for 
their  errors. 

The  letter  was  despatched  by  a  swimmer  across  the  harbour.  But  the 
grand  master  coldly  answered  that  veterans  without  subordination  were  in  his 
eyes  of  less  worth  than  raw  recruits  who  submitted  to  discipline.  The 
wretchedness  of  the  knights  at  this  repulse  was  unspeakable  ;  for  in  their  eyes 
dishonour  was  far  worse  than  death.  In  their  extremity  they  addressed  them- 
selves again  to  La  Valette,  renewing  their  protestations  of  sorrow  for  the  past, 
and  in  humble  terms  requesting  his  forgiveness.  The  chief  felt  that  he  haa 
pushed  the  matter  far  enough.  It  was  perhaps  the  point  to  which  he  had 
intended  to  bring  it.  It  would  not  be  well  to  drive  his  followers  to  despair. 
He  felt  now  they  might  be  trusted.  He  accordingly  dismissed  the  levies, 
retaining  only  a  part  of  these  brave  men  to  reinforce  the  garrison  ;  and  with 
them  he  sent  supplies  of  ammunition,  and  materials  for  repairing  the  battered 
works." 

During  this  time  the  Turkish  commander  was  pressing  the  siege  with  vigour. 
Day  and  night  the  batteries  thundered  on  the  ramparts  of  the  devoted  fortress. 
The  ditch  was  strewed  with  fragments  torn  from  the  walls  by  the  iron  tempest ; 
and  a  yawning  chasm,  which  had  been  gradually  opening  on  the  south-western 
side  of  the  castle,  showed  that  a  practicable  breach  was  at  length  etlected. 
The  uncommon  vivacity  with  which  the  guns  played  through  the  whole  of  the 
fifteenth  of  June,  and  the  false  alarms  with  which  the  garrison  was  harassed 
on  the  following  night,  led  to  the  belief  that  a  general  assault  was  immediately 
intended.  The  supposition  was  correct.  On  the  sixteenth,  at  dawn,  the  whole 
force  of  the  besiegers  was  under  arms.  The  appointed  signal  was  given  by 
the  discharge  of  a  cannon  ;  when  a  numerous  body  of  janizaries,  formed  into 
column,  moved  swiftly  forward  to  storm  the  great  breach  of  the  castle. 

Meanwhile,  the  Ottoman  fleet,  having  left  its  anchorage  on  the  eastern  side 
of  the  island,  had  moved  round,  and  now  lay  off  the  mouth  of  the  Great  Port, 
where  its  heavy  guns  were  soon  brought  to  bear  on  the  seaward  side  of  St. 
Elmo.  The  battery  on  Point  Dragut  opened  on  the  western  flank  of  the 
fortress ;  and  four  thousand  musketeers  in  the  trenches  swept  the  breach  with 
showers  of  bullets,  and  picked  off  those  of  the  garrison  who  snowed  their  heads 
above  the  parapet 

The  guns  or  the  besieged,  during  this  time,  were  not  idle.  They  boldly 
answered  the  cannonade  of  the  vessels ;  and  on  the  land-side  the  play  of 
artillery  and  musketry  was  incessant.  The  besieged  now  concentrated  their 
aim  on  the  formidable  body  of  janizaries,  who,  as  already  noticed,  were  hurrying 
forward  to  the  assault  Their  leading  files  were  mowed  down,  and  their  naiiK 
cruelly  torn,  by  the  cannon  of  St.  Angelo,  at  less  than  half  a  mile's  distance. 
But,  though  staggered  by  this  double  fire  on  front  and  flank,  the  janizaries 
were  not  stayed  in  their  career,  nor  even  thrown  into  disarray.  Heedless  of 
those  who  fell,  the  dark  column  came  steadily  on,  like  a  thunder-cloud  ;  while 

"  For  the  preceding  pAgefl,  Mttinff  forth  deron,  Glorioa*  TVfenw  de  Malta,  pp.  60-67  ; 

the  embtwies  to  Lri  Valette,  and  exhibiting  Cabrera,  Fili|<e  Seffundo,  lib.  vi.  cap.  26 ;  De 

In  fliich  bold  relief  the  character  of  the  rr»"d  Thou,  Hl«t.  univentelle,  torn.  v.  p.  61 ;  Cam- 

uii'-t'T.  I  have  been  chiefly  indebted  to  Vcrt.it  ptna,  Fili|>po  Secondo,  par.  II.  p.  159  ;  BaiU. 

(KnighUof  Malta,  vol.  II.  pp.  30»-3)3V    Tic  Verdadcra  KeUcion,  fol.  44,  46. 
Mme  alary  U  told,  more  concisely,  by  (Jal- 


410  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

the  groans  of  the  dying  were  drowned  in  the  loud  battle-cries  with  which  their 
comrades  rushed  to  the  assault.  The  fosse,  choked  up  with  the  ruins  of  the 
ramparts,  afforded  a  bridge  to  the  assailants,  who  had  no  need  of  the  fascines 
with  which  their  pioneers  were  prepared  to  nil  up  the  chasm.  The  approach 
to  the  breach,  however,  was  somewhat  steep ;  and  the  breach  itself  was 
defended  by  a  body  of  knights  and  soldiers,  who  poured  volleys  of  musketry 
thick  as  hail  on  the  assailants.  Still  they  pushed  forward  through  the  storm, 
and,  after  a  fierce  struggle,  the  front  rank  found  itself  at  the  summit,  face  to 
face  with  its  enemies.  But  the  strength  of  the  Turks  was  nearly  exhausted 
by  their  efforts.  They  were  hewn  down  by  the  Christians,  who  came  fresh 
into  action.  Yet  others  succeeded  those  who  fell,  till,  thus  outnumbered,  the 
knights  began  to  lose  ground,  and  the  forces  were  more  equally  matched. 
Then  came  the  struggle  of  man  against  man,  where  each  party  was  spurred  on 
by  the  fury  of  religious  hate,  and  Christian  and  Moslem  looked  to  paradise  as 
the  reward  of  him  who  fell  in  battle  against  the  infidel.  No  mercy  was  asked ; 
none  was  shown  ;  and  long  and  hard  was  the  conflict  between  the  flower  of 
the  Moslem  soldiery  and  the  best  knights  of  Christendom.  In  the  heat  of  the 
fight  an  audacious  Turk  planted  his  standard  on  the  rampart.  But  it  was 
speedily  wrenched  away  by  the  Chevalier  de  Medrano,  who  cut  down  the 
Mussulman  and  at  the  same  moment  received  a  mortal  wound  from  an  arque- 
buse.18  As  the  contest  lasted  far  into  the  day,  the  heat  became  intense,  and 
added  sorely  to  the  distress  of  the  combatants.  Still,  neither  party  slackened 
their  efforts.  Though  several  times  repulsed,  the  Turks  returned  to  the  assault 
with  the  same  spirit  as  before ;  and  when  sabre  and  scimitar  were  broken,  the 
combatants  closed  with  their  daggers,  and  rolled  down  the  declivity  of  the 
breach,  struggling  in  mortal  conflict  with  each  other. 

While  the  work  of  death  was  going  on  in  this  quarter,  a  vigorous  attempt 
was  made  in  another  to  carry  the  fortress  by  escalade.  A  body  of  Turks, 
penetrating  into  the  fosse,  raised  their  ladders  against  the  walls,  and,  pushed 
forward  by  their  comrades  in  the  rear,  endeavoured  to  force  an  ascent,  under 
a  plunging  fire  of  musketry  from  the  garrison.  Fragments  of  rock,  logs  of 
wood,  ponderous  iron  shot,  were  rolled  over  the  parapet,  mingled  with  com- 
bustibles and  hand-grenades,  which,  exploding  as  they  descended,  shattered 
the  ladders,  and  hurled  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  assailants  on  the  rocky 
bottom  of  the  ditch.  In  this  contest  one  invention  proved  of  singular  use  to 
the  besieged.  It  was  furnished  them  by  La  Valette,  and  consisted  of  an  iron 
hoop,  wound  round  with  cloth  steeped  in  nitre  and  bituminous  substances, 
which,  when  ignited,  burned  with  inextinguishable  fury.  These  hoops,  thrown 
on  the  assailants,  enclosed  them  in  their  fiery  circles.  Sometimes  two  were 
thus  imprisoned  in  the  same  hoop ;  and,  as  the  flowing  dress  of  the  Turks 
favoured  the  conflagration,  they  were  speedily  wrapped  in  a  blaze  which 
scorched  them  severely,  if  it  did  not  burn  them  to  death.17  This  invention,  so 
simple, — and  rude,  as  in  our  day  it  might  be  thought, — was  so  disastrous  in 
its  effects  that  it  was  held  in  more  dread  by  the  Turks  than  any  other  of  the 
fireworks  employed  by  the  besieged. 

A  similar  attempt  to  scale  the  walls  was  made  on  the  other  side  of  the 

"  The  remains  of  Medrano  were  brought  bien  la  merecw."    Bulb),  Verdadera  Relacion, 

over  to  II  Borgo,  where  La  Valette,  from  fol.  61. 

respect  to  his  memory,  caused  them  to  be  "  The  Invention   of  this  missile  Vertot 

laid  among  those  of  the  Grand  Crosses:  "El  claims  for  La  Valette.    (Knights  of  Malta, 

gran  Maestre  lo  mando  enterraren  una  sepul-  vol.  ii.  p.  215.)    Balbi  refers  it  to  a  brother 

tura,  adonde  se  entierran  los  cavalleros  de  la  of  the  oider.  named  Ramon  Fortunii.    Vt-r- 

gran  Cruz,  porqne  esta  era  la  mayor  honra,  dadera  Relacion,  p.  48. 
que  en  tal  tu  uipu  le  podia  hazei ,  y  el  uiuy 


HEROIC  DEFENCE  OF  ST.  ELMO.  411 

castle,  but  was  defeated  by  a  well-directed  fire  from  the  guns  of  St.  Angelo 
across  the  harbour, — which  threw  their  shot  with  such  precision  as  to  destroy 
most  of  the  storming-party  and  compel  the  rest  to  abandon  their  design.1'* 
Indeed,  during  the  whole  of  the  assault,  the  artillery  of  St.  Angelo,  St. 
Michael,  and  II  Borgo  kept  up  so  irritating  a  fire  on  the  exposed  flank  and 
rear  of  the  enemy  as  greatly  embarrassed  his  movements  and  did  good  service 
to  the  besieged. 

Thus  the  battle  raged  along  the  water  and  on  the  land.  The  whole  circuit 
of  the  Great  Port  was  studded  with  fire.  A  din  of  hideous  noises  rose  in  the 
air, — the  roar  of  cannon,  the  rattle  of  musketry,  the  hissing  of  fiery  missiles 
the  crash  of  falling  masonry,  the  shrieks  of  the  dying,  and,  high  above  all,  the 
fierce  cries  of  those  who  struggled  for  mastery !  To  add  to  the  tumult,  in 
the  heat  of  the  fight,  a  spark  falling  into  the  magazine  of  combustibles  in  the 
fortress,  it  blew  up  with  a  tremendous  explosion,  drowning  every  other  noise, 
and  for  a  moment  stilling  the  combat.  A  cloud  of  smoke  and  vapour,  rising 
into  the  air,  settled  heavily,  like  a  dark  canopy,  above  St.  Elmo.  It  seemed 
as  if  a  volcano  had  suddenly  burst  from  the  peaceful  waters  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, belching  out  volumes  of  fire  and  smoke,  and  shakisg  the  island  to  its 
centre ! 

The  fight  had  lasted  for  some  hours  ;  and  still  the  little  band  of  Christian 
warriors  made  good  their  stand  against  the  overwhelming  odds  of  numbers. 
The  sun  had  now  risen  high  in  the  heavens,  and,  as  its  rays  beat  fiercely  on 
the  heads  of  the  assailants,  their  impetuosity  began  to  slacken.  At  length, 
faint  with  heat  and  excessive  toil,  and  many  staggering  under  wounds,  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  the  janizaries  could  be  Drought  back  to  the  attack ;  and 
Mustapha  saw  with  chagrin  that  St.  Elmo  was  not  to  be  won  that  day.  Soon 
after  noon,  he  gave  the  signal  to  retreat ;  and  the  Moslem  host,  drawing  off 
under  a  galling  fire  from  the  garrison,  fell  back  in  sullen  silence  into  their 
trenches,  as  the  tiger,  baffled  in  his  expected  prey,  takes  refuge  from  the 
spear  of  the  hunter  in  his  jungle." 

As  the  Turks  withdrew,  the  garrison  of  St.  Elmo  raised  a  shout  of  victory 
that  reached  across  the  waters,  and  was  cheerily  answered  from  both  St 
Angelo  and  the  town,  whose  inhabitants  had  watched  with  intense  interest 
the  current  of  the  fight,  on  the  result  of  which  their  own  fate  so  much 
depended. 

The  number  of  Moslems  who  perished  in  the  assault  can  only  be  conjectured. 
But  it  must  have  been  very  large.  That  of  the  garrison  is  stated  as  high  as 
three  hundred  men.  Of  these,  seventeen  were  knights  of  the  order.  But  the 
common  soldier,  it  was  observed,  did  his  duty  as  manfully  throughout  the  day 
as  the  best  knight  by  whose  side  he  fought.**  Few,  if  any,  of  the  survivors 
escaped  without  wounds.  Such  as  were  liadly  injured  were  transferred  at  once 
to  the  town,  and  an  equal  number  of  able-bouiea  troops  sent  to  replace  them, 
together  with  supplies  of  ammunition,  and  materials  for  repairing,  as  far  as 
possible,  the  damage  to  the  works.  Among  those  who  suffered  most  from  their 

'•  The  first  shot  wag  not  so  successful,  kill-  214-216.—  Cabrera,  Fllipe  Segundo,  lib.   vi. 

ing  eight  of  their  own  side !—"  Man  el  artll-  cap.  25.—  Sagredo,  Monarcas  Othonianos,  p. 

lero,  o  fueme  la  prlma.  o  fuense  la  turhacion  246.— Herrcra,    Historic    general,    lib.    xil. 

que  en  semejantea  canoa  suele  sobre  venir  en  cap.  6. 

1<*  hombres  el  M  tuvo  maa  a  mano  drecha,  **  "  En  rate  awalto  y  en  todoft  me  han 

que  no  devtera.  puea  de  aquel  tiro  mato  ocho  dirbo  cavallero*.  que  peleard  no  sol  .nu-nto 

de  lo*  nue*tro«  que  defendlan  aquella  post*."  ellon,  y  lo«  BoldadoH,  mas  que  los  fortjados, 

Halbi,  Verdadera  Relaclon,  fol.  60.  bonan  volla.*,  y  Mailmen  tuurienui  con  tanto 

"  Balbi,  Verdadcra  Relaclon,  fol.  49-51. —  animo,    rorao  qualqaiera    otra    persona   de 

Caideron,  Ciloriooa  Drfenna  de  Malta,  p.  72,  mayor  eat  I  ma."     ibid.,  fol.  51. 
ct  seq.— Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  II.  pp. 


412  81EGE  OF  MALTA. 

wounds  was  the  bailiff  of  Negropont.  He  obstinately  refused  to  be  removed 
to  the  town  ;  and  when  urged  by  La  Valette  to  allow  a  substitute  to  be  sent 
to  relieve  him,  the  veteran  answered  that  he  was  ready  to  yield  up  his  com- 
mand to  any  one  who  should  be  appointed  in  his  place  ;  but  he  trusted  he 
should  be  allowed  still  to  remain  in  St.  Elmo  and  shed  the  last  drop  of  his 
blood  in  defence  of  the  Faith.21 

A  similar  heroic  spirit  was  shown  in  the  competition  of  the  knights,  and 
even  of  the  Maltese  soldiers,  to  take  the  place  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  the 
fortress.  It  was  now  not  merely  the  post  of  danger,  but,  as  might  be  truly 
said,  the  post  of  death.  Yet  these  brave  men  eagerly  contended  for  it,  as  for 
the  palm  of  glory;  and  La  Valette  was  obliged  to  refuse  the  application  of 
twelve  knights  of  the  language  of  Italy,  on  the  ground  that  the  complement 
of  the  garrison  was  full. 

The  only  spark  of  hope  now  left  was  that  of  receiving  the  succours  from 
Sicily.  But  the  viceroy,  far  from  quickening  his  movements,  seemed  willing 
to  play  the  part  of  the  matador  in  one  of  his  national  bull-fights, — allowing 
the  contending  parties  in  the  arena  to  exhaust  themselves  in  the  struggle,  and 
reserving  his  own  appearance  till  a  single  thrust  from  his  sword  should  decide 
the  combat. 

Still,  some  chance  of  prolonging  its  existence  remained  to  St.  Elmo  while 
the  communication  could  be  maintained  with  St.  Angelo  and  the  town,  by 
means  of  which  the  sinking  strength  of  the  garrison  was  continually  renewed 
with  the  fresh  life-blood  that  was  poured  into  its  veins.  The  Turkish  com- 
mander at  length  became  aware  that,  if  he  would  end  the  siege,  this  communi- 
cation must  be  cut  off.  It  would  have  been  well  for  him  had  he  come  to  this 
conclusion  sooner. 

By  the  advice  of  Dragut,  the  investment  of  the  castle  was  to  be  completed 
by  continuing  the  lines  of  intrenchment  to  the  Great  Port,  where  a  battery 
mounted  with  heavy  guns  would  command  the  point  of  debarkation.  While 
conducting  this  work,  the  Moorish  captain  was  wounded  on  the  head  by  the 
splinter  from  a  rock  struck  by  a  cannon-shot,  which  laid  him  senseless  in  the 
trenches.  Mustapha,  commanding  a  cloak  to  be  thrown  over  the  fallen  chief, 
had  him  removed  to  his  tent.  The  wound  proved  mortal ;  and,  though 
Dragut  survived  to  learn  the  fate  of  St.  Elmo,  he  seems  to  have  been  in  no 
condition  to  aid  the  siege  by  his  counsels.  The  loss  of  this  able  captain  was 
the  severest  blow  that  could  have  been  inflicted  on  the  besiegers. 

While  the  intrenchments  were  in  progress,  the  enemy  kept  up  an  uninter- 
mitting  fire  on  the  tottering  ramparts  of  the  fortress.  This  was  accompanied 
by  false  alarms,  and  by  night-attacks,  in  which  the  flaming  missiles,  as  they 
snot  through  the  air,  cast  a  momentary  glare  over  the  waters,  that  showed  the 
dark  outlines  of  St.  Elmo  towering  in  ruined  majesty  above  the  scene  of  deso- 
lation. The  artillerymen  of  St.  Angelo,  in  the  obscurity  of  the  night,  were 
guided  in  their  aim  by  the  light  of  the  enemy's  fireworks.2*  These  attacks 
were  made  by  the  Turks  not  so  much  hi  the  expectation  of  carrying  the  fort, 
though  they  were  often  attended  with  a  considerable  loss  of  life,  as  for  the 
purpose  of  wearing  out  the  strength  of  the  garrison.  And  dreary  indeed  was 

11  "Qne  si  su  seiioria  Illustrissima  tenia  muy  clara,  por  la  grade  catidad  de  los  fuegos 

otra  persona,  para  tal  cargo  mejor,  q"  la  em-  artificiales,  que  de  an  has  paries  se  arojavan, 

biasse,  quel  lo  obedeceria  como  a  tal,  mas  y  de  tal  manera  que  los  que  estavamos  ea 

quel  queria  quedar  en  sant  Ermo,  como  Ban  Miguel,  veyamos  muy  claramente  gant 

privado  cavallero.  y  por  sa  religion  sacrificur  Ermo,  y  los  artilleros  de  sant  Angel  y  de 

en  cuerpo."  Balbi,  Verdadera  Relacion,  otras  partes  apuntavan,  a  la  lunibrc  de  los 

fol.  44.  inegos  f-nemi&os."  Balbi,  VerduJcra  Kela- 

'•'-  "La  e.cuiklad  de  la  nuche  Cue  luego  ciun,  fol.  48. 


HEROIC  DEFENCE  OP  ST.  ELMO.  413 

the  condition  of  the  latter  :  fighting  by  day,  toiling  through  the  livelong  night 
to  repair  the  ravages  in  the  works,  they  had  no  power  to  take  either  the  rest 
or  the  nourishment  necessary  to  recruit  their  exhausted  strength.  To  all  this 
was  now  to  be  added  a  feeling  of  deeper  despondency,  as  they  saw  the  iron 
band  closing  around  them  which  was  to  sever  them  for  ever  from  their  friends. 

On  the  eighteenth  of  the  month  the  work  of  investment  was  completed, 
and  the  extremity  of  the  lines  was  garnished  with  a  redoubt  mounting  two 
large  guns,  which,  with  the  musketry  from  the  trenches,  would  sweep  the 
landing-place  and  effectually  cut  off  airy  further  supplies  from  the  other  side  of 
the  harbour.  Thus  left  to  their  own  resources,  the  days  of  the  garrison  were 
numbered. 

La  Valette,  who  had  anxiously  witnessed  these  operations  of  the  enemy,  had 
done  all  he  could  to  retard  them,  by  firing  incessantly  on  the  labourers  in  the 
hope  of  driving  them  from  the  trenches.  When  the  work  was  completed,  his 
soul  was  filled  with  anguish ;  and  his  noble  features,  which  usually  wore  a 
tinge  of  melancholy,  were  clouded  with  deeper  sadness,  as  he  felt  he  must  now 
abandon  his  brave  comrades  to  their  fate. 

On  the  twentieth  of  the  month  was  the  festival  of  Corpus  Christi,  which  in 
happier  days  had  been  always  celebrated  with  great  pomp  by  the  Hospitallers. 
They  did  not  fail  to  observe  it,  even  at  this  time.  A  procession  was  formed, 
with  the  grand  master  at  its  head  ;  and  the  knights  walked  clad  in  the  dark 
robes  of  the  order,  embroidered  with  the  white  cross  of  Malta.  They  were 
accompanied  by  the  whole  population  of  the  place,  men,  women,  and  children. 
They  made  the  circuit  of  the  town,  taking  the  direction  least  exposed  to  the 
enemy's  fire.  On  reaching  the  church,  they  prostrated  themselves  on  the 
ground,  and.  with  feelings  rendered  yet  more  solemn  by  their  own  situation, 
and  above  all  by  that  of  their  brave  comrades  in  St  Elmo,  they  implored  the 
Lord  of  Hosts  to  take  pity  on  their  distress,  and  not  to  allow  his  enemies  to 
triumph  over  the  true  soldiers  of  the  Cross.** 

During  the  whole  of  the  twenty-first,  the  fire  of  the  besiegers  was  kept  up 
with  more  than  usual  severity,  until  in  some  places  the  crumbling  wall  was 
shot  away,  down  to  the  bare  rock  on  which  it  stood.24  Their  pioneers,  who 
had  collected  loads  of  brushwood  for  the  purpose,  filled  up  the  ditch  with  their 
fascines  ;  which,  as  they  were  covered  with  wet  earth,  defied  the  efforts  of  the 
garrison  to  set  them  on  fire.  Throughout  the  following  night  a  succession  of 
false  alarms  kept  the  soldiers  constantly  under  arms.  All  this  prognosticated 
a  general  assault.  It  came  the  next  day. 

With  the  earliest  streak  of  light,  the  Turkish  troops  were  in  motion.  Soon 
they  came  pouring  in  over  the  fosse,  which,  chokea  up  as  it  was,  offered  no 
impediment.  Some  threw  themselves  on  the  breach.  The  knights  and  their 
followers  were  there  to  receive  them.  Others  endeavoured  to  scale  the  ram- 
parts, but  were  driven  back  by  showers  of  missiles.  The  musketry  was  feeble, 
for  ammunition  had  begun  to  fail.  But  everywhere  the  assailants  were  met 
with  the  same  unconquerable  spirit  as  before.  It  seemed  as  if  the  defenders 
of  St.  Elmo,  exhausted  as  they  had  been  by  their  extraordinary  sufferings,  had 
renewed  their  strength,  as  by  a  miracle.  Thrice  the  enemy  returned  to  the 
assault ;  and  thrice  he  was  repulsed.  The  carnage  was  terrible,  Christian  and 
Mussulman  grappling  fiercely  together,  until  the  ruins  on  which  they  fought 
were  heaped  with  the  bodies  of  the  slain. 

The  combat  had  lasted  several  hours.  Amazed  at  the  resistance  which  he 
met  with  from  this  handful  of  warriors,  Mustapha  felt  that,  if  he  would  stop 
the  waste  of  life  in  his  followers,  he  must  defer  the  possession  of  the  place  for 
"  Balbl,  Vcrd«dcr»  Relaclon,  fol.  83.  "  Vcrtot.  Knights  of  MMU,  vol.  II.  p.  214. 


414  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

one  day  longer.  Stunned  as  his  enemies  must  be  by  the  blow  he  had  now 
dealt,  it  would  be  beyond  the  powers  of  nature  for  them  to  stand  another 
assault.  He  accordingly  gave  the  signal  for  retreat ;  and  the  victors  again 
raised  the  shout — a  feeble  shout^of  triumph  ;  while  the  banner  of  the  order, 
floating  from  the  ramparts,  proclaimed  that  St.  Elmo  was  still  in  the  hands  of 
the  Christians.  It  was  the  last  triumph  of  the  garrison.2* 

They  were  indeed  reduced  to  extremity ;  with  their  ammunition  nearly 
exhausted,  their  weapons  battered  and  broken,  their  fortifications  yawning 
with  breaches,  like  some  tempest-tossed  vessel  with  its  seams  opening  in  every 
direction  and  ready  to  founder,  the  few  survivors  covered  with  wounds,  and 
many  of  them  so  far  crippled  as  to  be  scarcely  able  to  drag  their  enfeebled 
bodies  along  the  ramparts.  One  more  attack,  and  the  scene  would  be  closed. 

In  this  deplorable  state,  they  determined  to  make  an  effort  to  communicate 
with  their  friends  on  the  other  side  of  the  harbour  and  report  to  them  their 
condition.  The  distance  was  not  great ;  and  among  the  Maltese  were  many 
excellent  swimmers,  who,  trained  from  childhood  to  the  sea,  took  to  it  as  to  their 
native  element.  One  of  these  offered  to  bear  a  message  to  the  grand  master. 
Diving  and  swimming  long  under  water,  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  escape 
the  enemy's  bullets,  and  landed  safe  on  the  opposite  shore. 

La  Valette  was  deeply  atfected  by  his  story,  though  not  surprised  by  it. 
With  the  rest  of  the  knights,  he  had  watched  with  straining  eyes  the  course 
of  the  fight ;  and,  though  marvelling  that,  in  spite  of  odds  so  great,  victory 
should  have  remained  with  the  Christians,  he  knew  how  dearly  they  must 
have  bought  it.  Though  with  little  confidence  in  his  success,  he  resolved  to 
answer  their  appeal  by  making  one  effort  to  aid  them.  Five  large  barges 
were  instantly  launched,  and  furnished  with  a  reinforcement  of  troops  and 
supplies  for  the  garrison.  The  knights  thronged  to  the  quay,  each  eagerly 
contending  for  the  perilous  right  to  embark  in  them.  They  thought  only  of 
their  comrades  in  St.  Elmo. 

It  turned  out  as  La  Valette  had  foreseen.  The  landing-place  was  com- 
manded by  a  battery  of  heavy  guns,  and  by  hundreds  of  musketeers,  menacing 
instant  death  to  whoever  should  approach  the  shore.  But  the  knights  were 
not  allowed  to  approach  it ;  for  the  Turkish  admiral,  lying  off  the  entrance  of 
the  Great  Port,  and  aware  of  the  preparations  that  were  making,  sent  a 
flotilla  of  his  lighter  vessels  into  the  harbour  to  intercept  the  convoy.  And  so 
prompt  were  their  movements  that,  unless  the  Christians  had  put  back  again 
with  all  speed,  they  would  have  been  at  once  surrounded  and  captured  by  the 
enemy. 

The  defenders  of  St.  Elmo,  who  had  watched  from  the  ramparts  the  boats 
coming  to  their  assistance,  saw  the  failure  of  the  attempt ;  and  the  last  ray  of 
hope  faded  away  in  their  bosoms.  Their  doom  was  sealed.  Little  more  was 
left  but  calmly  to  await  the  stroke  of  the  executioner.  Yet  they  did  not 
abandon  themselves  to  an  unmanly  despair ;  but,  with  heroic  constancy,  they 
prepared  to  die  like  martyrs  for  the  good  cause  to  which  they  had  consecrated 
their  lives. 

That  night  was  passed,  not  in  vain  efforts  to  repair  the  defences,  with  the 
hope  of  protracting  existence  some  few  hours  longer,  but  in  the  solemn 
preparation  of  men  who  felt  themselves  standing  on  the  brink  of  eternity. 
They  prayed,  confessed,  received  the  sacrament,  and,  exhorting  one  another 
to  do  their  duty,  again  renewed  their  vows,  which  bound  them  to  lay  down 

"  Vertot,   Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  II.  pp.        e.t  seq.— Cabrera,  Filipe    Segundo,    lib.   vi. 
216,  217.— Balbi,  Verdadera  Relacion.  fol.  54.        cap.  25. 
— Calderon,  Glorioea  L*efensa  tie  Malta,  p.  80, 


.    FALL  OF  ST.  ELMO.  415 

their  lives,  if  necessary,  in  defence  of  the  Faith.  Some,  among  whom  Miranda 
and  the  bailiff  of  Negropont  were  especially  noticed,  went  about  encouraging 
and  consoling  their  brethren,  and,  though  covered  with  wounds  themselves, 
administering  such  comfort  as  they  could  to  the  sick  and  the  dying ;  and  the 
dying  lay  thick  around,  mingled  with  the  dead,  on  the  ruins  which  were  soon 
to  become  their  common  sepulchre.** 

Thus  passed  away  the  dreary  night ;  when,  tenderly  embracing  one  another, 
like  friends  who  part  for  ever,  each  good  knight  repaired  to  his  post,  prepared 
to  sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  he  could.  Some  of  the  more  aged  and  inhrrn,  and 
those  crippled  by  their  wounds,  were  borne  in  the  arms  of  their  comrades  to 
the  spot  wnere,  seated  on  the  ruins  and  wielding  their  ineffectual  swords,  they 
prepared,  like  true  and  loyal  knights,  to  die  upon  the  breach. 

They  did  not  wait  long.  The  Turks,  so  often  balked  of  their  prey,  called 
loudly  to  be  led  to  the  assault.  Their  advance  was  not  checked  by  the  feeble 
volleys  thrown  at  random  against  them  from  the  fortress ;  and  they  were  soon 
climbing  the  ascent  of  the  breach,  still  slippery  with  the  carnage  of  the 
preceding  day.  But,  with  all  their  numbers,  it  was  long  before  they  could  break 
the  little  line  of  Maltese  chivalry  which  was  there  to  receive  them.  Incre- 
dible as  it  may  seem,  the  struggle  lasted  for  some  hours  longer,  while  the  fate 
of  St.  Elmo  hung  suspended  in  the  balance.  At  length,  after  a  short  respite, 
the  Turkish  host  rallied  for  a  last  assault ;  and  the  tide  of  battle,  pouring 
through  the  ample  breach  with  irresistible  fury,  bore  down  cavaher  and 
soldier,  leaving  no  living  thing  upon  the  ramparts.  A  small  party  of  the 
knights,  escaping  in  the  tumult,  threw  themselves  into  the  chapel ;  but, 
finding  that  no  quarter  was  given  to  those  who  surrendered,  they  rushed  out 
and  perished  on  the  swords  of  the  enemy.  A  body  of  nine  cavaliers,  posted 
near  the  end  of  the  fosse,  not  far  from  the  ground  occupied  by  Dragut's  men, 
surrendered  themselves  as  prisoners  of  war  to  the  corsairs ;  and  the  latter, 
who,  in  their  piratical  trade,  had  learned  to  regard  men  as  a  kind  of  merchan- 
dise, happily  refused  to  deliver  up  the  Christians  to  the  Turks,  holding  them 
for  random.  These  were  the  only  members  of  the  order  who  survived  the 
massacre.*7  A  few  Maltese  soldiers,  however,  experienced  swimmers,  suc- 
ceeded, amidst  the  tumult,  in  reaching  the  opposite  side  of  the  harbour,  where 
they  spread  the  sad  tidings  of  the  loss  of  St  Elmo.  This  was  speedily  con- 
tinued by  the  volleys  of  the  Turkish  ordnance ;  and  the  standard  of  the 
Crescent,  planted  on  the  spot  so  lately  occupied  by  the  banner  of  St  John. 
sin. wed  too  plainly  that  this  strong  post,  the  key  of  the  island,  had  passed 
from  the  Christians  into  the  hands  of  the  infidel.*" 

The  Ottoman  fleet,  soon  afterwards,  doubling  the  point,  entered  Port  Mu- 

M  ••  Ellos  como  aquellos  q*  la  mafiana  hn via  vious   to    the   assault.    The  details   quoted 

de  aer  cu  poctrer  dia  en  ert»-  mttdo,  nnos  con  above  from  Balbi  account  for  thin  knowledge, 

otros  »e  cunfe»savan,  j  rogavan   a  nuestro  and  carry  with  them  an  air  of  probability. 

ffbor  qne  por  »u    infinita  mtaericordia.    la  (Wrdadera  Relacion,  fol.  65  ) 
tuvieeoe  de  SUB  anioias  pues  le  cu-taron  su  "  "  I.uego  que  entraron  los  Turcos  en  Kant 

prpci<w"is*iina     satipre     para     rtdernirlan."  Ermo.  abatleron  el  e«tadarte  de  san  Juan,  y 

Halbi,  Verdadera  Relnclon,  fol.  54. — See  also  on  BU  lugar  plantaron  una  vandora  del  gran 

V-rtot,   Knigbt«  of  Malta,  TO),   ii.  pp.  217,  Turco,  y  en  todo  aquel  dia  no  hizirron  otra 

218; — Cabrera,  Flllpe.Segundo,  lib.  vi.cap.  35.  COM,  quo  plantar  vaderas,  y  vanderillas  por 

"*  Vertot,  who»e  appetite  for  the  marvel-  la  muralla,  Begun  «u  costumbre."    Ibid.,  fol. 

loan  ftnmftime*  carilts  him  into  the  miracu-  65.— See  also,  for  the  storming  of  St.  Klmo, 

lotu,  given  us  to  underatand  that  not  one  of  dlderon,  Glorio«a  Uefenaa  de  Malta,  pp.  81- 

the  garrixon  Mirvived   the  (forming   of  St.  84. — Miniana,   Hint,    de    Kspana,   p.   351, — 

Klmo.    (Knight*  of  Malta,  vol.   II.  p.  219  1  Cabrera.  Killpe  Srgundo,  lib.  vi.  cap.  25.— 

If  that  were  *o,  o>ie  would  like  to  know  bow  Campana.  Klllppo  Secondo.  par.  II.  p.  159, — 

tli"  historian  got  hi*  knowledge  of  what  ««*  Sagn-do.  Monarcaa  Otbomanox,  p.  245, —  Ver- 

doing  in  tbe  fortrcaa  the  day  and  night  pre-  tot.  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  ii.  p.  219,  et  aeq. 


416  SIEGE  OP  MALTA. 

siette,  on  the  west,  with  music  playing,  and  gay  with  pennons  and  streamers ; 
while  the  rocks  rang  with  the  shouts  of  the  Turkish  soldiery,  and  the  batteries 
on  shore  replied  in  thunders  to  the  artillery  of  the  shipping. 

The  day  on  which  this  occurred,  the  twenty -third  of  June,  was  that  of  the 
festival  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  the  patron  of  the  order.  It  had  been  always 
celebrated  by  the  knights  with  greater  splendour  than  any  other  anniversary. 
Now,  alas  !  it  was  to  them  a  day  of  humiliation  and  mourning,  while  they  had 
the  additional  mortification  to  see  it  observed  as  a  day  of  tnumphant  jubilee 
by  the  enemies  of  the  Faith.2" 

To  add  to  their  distress,  Mustapha  sullied  his  victory  by  some  brutal  acts, 
which  seem  to  have  been  in  keeping  with  his  character.  The  heads  of  four 
of  the  principal  knights,  among  them  those  of  Miranda  and  the  bailiff  of 
Negropont  were  set  high  on  poles,  looking  towards  the  town.  A  spectacle 
yet  more  shocking  was  presented  to  the  eyes  of  the  besieged.  The  Turkish 
general  caused  the  bodies  of  several  cavaliers — some  of  them,  it  is  said,  while 
Hfe  was  still  palpitating  within  them— to  be  scored  on  the  bosoms  with  gashes 
in  the  form  of  a  cross.  Thus  defaced,  they  were  lashed  to  planks  and 
thrown  into  the  water.  Several  of  them  drifted  to  the  opposite  shore,  where 
they  were  easily  recognized  by  their  brethren  ;  and  La  Valette,  as  he  gazed 
on  the  dishonoured  remains  of  his  dear  companions,  was  melted  to  tears. 
But  grief  soon  yielded  to  feelings  of  a  sterner  nature.  He  commanded  the 
heads  of  his  Turkish  prisoners  to  be  struck  off  and  shot  from  the  large  guns 
into  the  enemy's  lines, — by  way  of  teaching  the  Moslems,  as  the  chronicler 
tells  us,  a  lesson  of  humanity ! *° 

The  number  of  Christians  who  fell  in  this  siege  amounted  to  about  fifteen 
hundred.  Of  these  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  were  members  of  the  order, 
and  among  them  several  of  its  most  illustrious  warriors.*1  The  Turkish  loss 
is  estimated  at  eight  thousand,  at  the  head  of  whom  stood  Dragut.  of  more 
account  than  a  legion  of  the  common  file.  He  was  still  living,  though  speech- 
less, when  the  fort  was  stormed.  He  was  roused  from  his  lethargy  by  the 
shouts  of  victory,  and  when,  upon  turning  with  inquiring  looks  to  those  around 
he  was  told  the  cause,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  as  if  in  gratitude  for  the 
event,  and  expired.3* 

The  Turkish  commander,  dismantling  St.  Elmo, — which,  indeed,  was  little 
better  than  a  heap  of  ruins, — sent  some  thirty  cannon,  that  had  lined  the 
works,  as  the  trophies  of  victory,  to  Constantinople.** 

Thus  ended  the  memorable  siege  of  St.  Elmo,  in  which  a  handful  of  war- 
riors withstood,  for  the  space  of  a  month,  the  whole  strength  of  the  Turkish 
army.  Such  a  result,  while  it  proves  the  unconquerable  valour  of  the  garrison, 
intimates  that  the  Turks,  however  efficient  they  may  have  been  in  field- 
operations,  had  little  skill  as  engineers,  and  no  acquaintance  with  the  true 
principles  of  conducting  a  siege.  It  must  have  been  obvious,  from  the  first, 
that  to  bring  the  siege  to  a  speedy  issue  it  was  necessary  to  destroy  the  com- 
munications of  St.  Elmo  with  the  town.  Yet  this  was  not  attempted  till  the 
arrival  of  Dragut,  who  early  recommended  the  construction  of  a  battery  for 
this  purpose  on  some  high  land  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Great  Port.  In 
this  he  was  overruled  by  the  Turkish  commander.  It  was  not  till  some  time 

M  "  A  todos  nos  pesava  en  el  anlma  por-  "  Balbi    has    given    a   catalogue   of  the 

que  aquellas  erm  fiestas  que  solian  hazer  los  knights  who  fell  in  the  siege,  with  the  names 

cavalleros  en  tal  dia,   para  honor  deste  sn  of  the  countries  to  which  they  respectively 

santo  avogado."    Balbi,  Verdadera  Relation,  belonged.     Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.  56. 

fol.  55.  «  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  ii.  p.  219. 

30  Balbi,   Verdadora  Relacion,   fol.    58.—  *»  Balbi,  Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.  33. 
Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  ii.  p.  220. 


IL  BORGO  INVESTED.  417 

later  that  the  line  of  investment,  at  the  corsair's  suggestion,  was  continued 
to  the  water's  edge,— and  the  fate  of  the  fortress  was  decided. 

St.  Elmo  fell.  But  precious  time  had  been  lost, — an  irreparable  loss,  as  it 
proved,  to  the  besiegers ;  while  the  place  had  maintained  so  long  and  gallant 
a  resistance  as  greatly  to  encourage  the  Christians,  and  in  some  degree  to 
diminish  the  confidence  of  the  Moslems.  "  What  will  not  the  parent  cost," 
exclaimed  Mustapha, — alluding  to  St.  Angelo, — "  when  the  child  has  cost  us 
so  dear  ! "  ** 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SIEGE    OF    MALTA. 

II  Borgo  Invested  -  Storming  of  St.  Michael — Slaughter  of  the  Turks — Incessant  Cannonade — 
General  Assault— The  Turks  repulsed— Perilous  Condition  of  11  Borgo — Constancy  of  La 
Valrtte. 

1565. 

THE  strength  of  the  order  was  now  concentrated  on  the  two  narrow  slips  of 
land  which  run  out  from  the  eastern  side  of  the  Great  Port.  Although  some 
account  of  these  places  has  been  given  to  the  reader,  it  will  not  be  amiss  to 
refresh  his  recollection  of  what  is  henceforth  to  be  the  scene  of  operations. 

The  northern  peninsula,  occupied  by  the  town, — II  Borgo, — and  at  the 
extreme  point  by  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,  was  defended  by  works  stronger 
and  in  better  condition  than  the  fortifications  of  St.  Elmo.  The  care  of  them 
was  divided  among  the  different  languages,  each  of  which  gave  its  own  name 
to  the  bastion  it  defended.  Thus,  the  Spanish  knights  were  intrusted  with 
the  bastion  of  Castile,  on  the  eastern  corner  of  the  Peninsula,— destined  to 
make  an  important  figure  in  the  ensuing  siege. 

The  parallel  slip  of  land  was  crowned  by  the  fort  of  St.  Michael, — a  work 
of  narrower  dimensions  than  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,— at  the  base  of  which 
might  be  seen  a  small  gathering  of  houses,  hardly  deserving  the  name  of  a 
town.  This  peninsula  was  surrounded  by  fortifications  scarcely  yet  completed, 
on  which  the  grand  master,  La  Sangle,  who  gave  his  name  to  the  place,  haa 
generously  expended  his  private  fortune.  The  works  were  terminated,  on  the 
extreme  point,  by  a  low  bastion,  or  rather  demi-bastion,  called  the  Spur. 

"*  The  two  principal  authorities  on  whom  the  history  of  the  order,  and  its  archives  were 

I  have  relied  for  the  siege  of  Malta  are  Ball)!  placed  by  the  knights  at  bis  disposal  for  this 

and  Vertot.    The  former  was  a  soldier,  wbo  purpose.     He  accepted  the  tnsk;  and  in  per- 

served    through  the   siege,   his   account    of  forming  it  he  has  sounded  the  note  of  pane- 

whlch,  now  nut  easily  met  wilh,  was  printed  pyric  with  as  hearty  a  goodwill  as  if  he  had 

shortly  afterwards,  and   in   less  than  three  been    a    knight    hospitaller    himself.     This 

years  went  into  a  second  edition, — being  that  somewhat  detracts  from  the  value  of  a  work 

used  in  the  present  work.     Ax  Balbi  wan  both  which  must  be  admitted  to  rest,  in  respect  to 

an  eye-witness  and  an  actor  on  a  theatre  so  materials,  on   the  soundest  historical  basis.  • 

limited  that  nothing  could  be  well   bidden  The  abbe's  turn  for  the  r  mantle  baa  prob- 

from   view,   and   ait  he  wrote  while  events  ubly  aided,  instead  of  hurting  him,  with  the 

were  fresh  in  his  memory,  his  testimony  is  generality  of  readers.     His  clear  and  some- 

of  the  highest  value.     It  loses  nothing  by  the  times  eloquent  style,  the  interest  of  his  story, 

temperate,  home-bred  style  In  which  the  book  and  the  dramatic  skill  with  which  he  brings 

is  written,  like  that  of  »  man  anxious  only  to  before  the  eye  the  peculiar  trails  of  his  actors, 

tell  the  truth,  and  no'  to  magnify  the  cause  rideeiu,  to  some  extent,  the  prolixity  of  his 

or  the  party  to  which  he  Is  attached.     In  this  narrative,  and  have  combined  not  merely  to 

the  honest   -olilier  forms  a  contrast  to  hia  cotimu-nd  the  book  to  popular  favour,  but  to 

more  accomplished  rival,  the  Abbe  de  Vertot.  make  it  the  ftandard  work  on  the  subject. 
This  eminent  writer  was  invited  to  compose  _ 


413  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

The  precious  interval  gained  by  the  long  detention  of  the  Turks  before  St 
Elmo  had  been  diligently  employed  by  La  Valette  in  putting  the  defences  of 
both  La  Sangle  and  11  Borgo  in  the  best  condition  possible  under  the  circum- 
stances. In  this  good  work  all  united, — men,  women,  and  children.  All 
were  animated  by  the  same  patriotic  feeling,  and  by  a  common  hatred  of  the 
infidel.  La  Valette  ordered  the  heavy  guns  to  be  taken  from  the  galleys 
which  were  laying  at  anchor,  and  placed  on  the  walls  of  the  fortresses.  He 
directed  that  such  provisions  as  were  in  the  hands  of  individuals  should  be 
delivered  up  for  a  fair  compensation  and  transferred  to  the  public  magazines.1 
Five  companies  of  soldiers,  stationed  in  the  Notable  City,  in  the  interior  of 
the  island,  he  now  ordered  to  11  Borgo,  where  their  services  would  be  more 
needed.  Finally,  as  there  were  no  accommodations  for  prisoners,  who, 
indeed,  could  not  be  maintained  without  encroaching  on  the  supplies  neces- 
sary for  the  garrison,  La  Valette  commanded  that  no  prisoners  should  be 
made,  but  that  all  who  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victors  snould  be  put  to  the 
sword.*  It  was  to  be  on  both  sides  a  war  of  extermination. 

At  this  juncture,  La  Valette  had  the  satisfaction  of  receiving  a  reinforce- 
ment from  Sicily,  which,  though  not  large,  was  of  great  importance  in  the 
present  state  of  affairs.  The  viceroy  had  at  length  so  far  yielded  to  the  im- 
portunities of  the  Knights  of  St.  John  who  were  then  at  his  court,  impatiently 
waiting  for  the  means  of  joining  their  brethren,  as  to  fit  out  a  squadron  of 
four  galleys,— two  of  his  own,  and  two  belonging  to  the  order.  They  had 
forty  knights  on  board,  and  seven  hundred  soldiers,  excellent  troops,  drawn 
chiefly  from  the  Spanish  garrisons  in  Italy.  The  vessels  were  placed  under 
command  of  Don  Juan  de  Cardona,  who  was  instructed  to  return  without 
attempting  to  land,  should  he  find  St.  Elmo  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
Cardona,  who  seems  to  have  had  a  good  share  of  the  timid,  vacillating  policy 
of  his  superior,  fearful  of  the  Ottoman  fleet,  stood  off  and  on  for  some  days, 
without  approaching  the  island.  During  this  time  St.  Elmo  was  taken. 
Cardona,  ignorant  of  the  fact,  steered  towards  the  south,  and  finally  anchored 
off  Pietra  Negra,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  island.  Here  one  of  the  knights 
was  permitted  to  go  on  snore  to  collect  information.  He  there  learned  the 
fate  of  St.  Elmo ;  but,  as  he  carefully  concealed  the  tidings,  the  rest  of  the 
forces  were  speedily  landed,  and  Cardona,  with  his  galleys,  was  soon  on  the 
way  to  Sicily. 

The  detachment  was  under  the  command  of  the  Chevalier  de  Robles,  a 
brave  soldier,  and  one  of  the  most  illustrious  men  of  the  order.  Under  cover 
of  night,  he  passed  within  gunshot  of  the  Turkish  lines  without  being  dis- 
covered, and  was  so  fortunate  as  to  bring  his  men  in  safety  to  the  side  of  the 
English  harbour  opposite  to  II  Borgo,  which  it  washes  on  the  north.  There 
he  found  boats  awaiting  his  arrival.  They  had  been  provided  by  the  grand 
master,  who  was  advised  of  his  movements.  A  thick  fog  lay  upon  the  waters  ; 
and  under  its  friendly  mantle  Robles  and  his  troops  crossed  over  in  safety  to 
the  town,  where  they  were  welcomed  by  the  knights,  who  joyfully  greeted  the 
brave  companions  that  had  come  to  share  with  them  the  perils  of  the  siege.* 

While  this  was  going  on,  Mustapha,  the  Turkish  commander,  had  been  re- 
volving in  his  mind  whether  it  were  not  possible  to  gain  his  ends  by  negotia- 
tion instead  of  war,  and  thus  be  spared  the  waste  of  life  which  the  capture 

1  By  another  ordinance,  LA  Valette  caused  "  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  iii.  p.  2. 

all  the  dogs  in  La  Sangle  and  II  Borgo  to  be  *  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  iii.  p.  4. — 

killed,  because  they  disturbed  the  garrisons  Balbi,  Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.  64.— Calderon. 

by  night  and  ate  their  provisions  by  day.  (.Iluriosa  I);'fensa  de  Malta,  p.  94. — Sagredo, 

Balbi,  VerJ..daru  Relac.on,  fol.  29.  Mtmarcas  Othumanos,  p.  296. 


STORMING  OF  ST.  MICHAEL.  419 

of  St.  Elmo  had  cost  him.  He  flattered  himself  that  La  Valette,  taking 
warning  by  the  fate  of  that  fortress,  might  be  brought  to  capitulate  on  fair 
and  honourable  terms.  He  accordingly  sent  a  messenger  with  a  summons  to 
the  g_rand  master  to  deliver  up  the  island,  on  the  assurance  of  a  free  passage 
for  himself  and  his  followers,  with  all  their  effects,  to  Sicily. 

The  envoy  chosen  was  a  Greek  slave, — an  old  man,  who  had  lived  from 
boyhood  in  captivity.  Under  protection  of  a  flag  of  truce,  the  slave  gained 
admission  into  St.  Angelo,  and  was  conducted  blindfold  to  the  presence  of  the 
grand  master.  He  there  delivered  his  message.  La  Valette  calmly  listened, 
but  without  deigning  to  reply ;  and  when  the  speaker  had  ended,  the  stern 
chief  ordered  him  to  be  taken  from  his  presence  and  instantly  hanged.  The 
wretched  man  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  grand  master,  beseeching  him 
to  spare  his  life,  and  protesting  that  he  was  but  a  poor  slave,  and  had  come, 
against  his  will,  in  obedience  to  the  commands  of  the  Turkish  general.  La 
Valette,  who  had  probably  no  intention  from  the  first  to  have  his  order 
carried  into  execution,  affected  to  relent,  declaring,  however,  that  should  any 
other  messenger  venture  hereafter  to  insult  him  with  the  like  proposals  he 
should  not  escape  so  easily.  The  terrified  old  man  was  then  dismissed.  As 
he  left  the  presence,  he  was  led  through  long  files  of  the  soldiery  drawn  up  in 
imposing  array,  and  was  shown  the  strong  works  of  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo. 
"  Look,  said  one  of  the  officers,  pointing  to  the  deep  ditch  which  surrounded 
the  fortress,  "  there  is  all  the  room  we  can  afford  your  master ;  but  it  is  deep 
enough  to  bury  him  and  his  followers  ! "  The  slave,  though  a  Christian,  could 
not  be  persua'ded  to  remain  and  take  his  chance  with  the  besieged.  They 
must  be  beaten  in  the  end,  he  said,  and,  when  retaken  by  the  Turks,  his  case 
would  be  worse  than  ever.4 

There  was  now  no  alternative  for  Mustapha  but  to  fight ;  and  he  had  not 
lost  a  moment  since  the  fall  of  St.  Elmo  in  pushing  forward  his  preparations. 
Trenches  had  been  opened  on  the  heights  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Contain,  at  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  Great  Port,  and  continued  on  a  line  that  stretched 
to  Mount  St  Salvador.  Where  the  soil  was  too  hard  to  be  readily  turned  up, 
the  defences  were  continued  by  a  wall  of  stone.  Along  the  heights,  on 
different  points  of  the  line,  batteries  were  established,  and  mounted  with  guns 
of  the  heaviest  calibre.  Batteries  were  also  raised  on  the  high  ground  which, 
under  the  name  of  Mount  Sceberras,  divides  Port  Musiette  from  the  Great 
Port,  terminating  in  the  point  of  land  crowned  by  St.  Elmo.  A  few  cannon 
were  even  planted  by  the  Turks  on  the  ruins  of  this  castle. 

Thus  the  Christian  fortresses  were  menaced  on  every  point ;  and,  while  the 
lines  of  the  be.sieger.s  cut  off  all  communication  on  the  land-side,  a  detachment 
of  the  fleet,  blocking  up  the  entrance  to  the  Great  Port,  effectually  cut  off 
intercourse  by  sea.  The  investment  by  land  and  by  sea  was  complete. 

Early  in  July  the  wide  circle  of  batteries,  mounting  between  sixty  and 
seventy  pieces  of  artillery,  opened  its  converging  fire  on  the  fortresses,  the 
towns,  and  the  shipping  which  lay  at  anchor  in  the  Port  of  Galleys.  The 
cannonade  was  returned  with  spirit  by  the  guns  of  St.  Angelo  and  St.  Michael, 
well  served  by  men  acquainted  with  their  duty.  So  soon  as  the  breaches  were 
practicable,  Mustapha  proposed  to  begin  by  storming  St.  Michael,  the  weaker 
of  the  two  fortresses  ;  and  lie  determined  to  make  the  assault  by  sea  as  well 
as  by  land.  It  would  not  be  possible,  however,  to  bring  round  his  vessels 
lying  in  Port  Musiette  into  the  Great  Port  without  exposing  them  to  the 

4  Calderon,  Oloriona  Defend  de  Malta,  p.        — Cabrera.  Filip*  Sejrnndo,  lib.  vl.  cap.  26. — 
91.     Vtrtiit.  Knight*  of  Malta,  v»l  111.  p  3.—        Sag  redo,  Monarcas  Othomanos,  p.  2  6. 
I)t  Thou,  lltstuir-  univrrscll  •,  turn,  v   p.  ST. 


420  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

guns  of  St.  Angelo.  He  resorted,  therefore,  to  an  expedient  startling  enough, 
but  not  new  in  the  annals  of  warfare.  He  caused  a  large  number  of  boats  to 
be  dragged  across  the  high  land  which  divides  the  two  harbours.  This  toil- 
some work  was  performed  by  his  Christian  slaves ;  and  the  garrison  beheld 
with  astonishment  the  Turkish  flotilla  descending  the  rugged  slopes  of  the 
opposite  eminence  and  finally  launched  on  the  waters  of  the  inland  basin. 
No  less  than  eighty  boats,  some  of  them  of  the  largest  size,  were  thus  trans- 
ported across  the  heights. 

Having  completed  this  great  work,  Mustapha  made  his  preparations  for  the 
assault.  At  this  time  he  was  joined  by  a  considerable  reinforcement  under 
Hassem,  the  Algerine  corsair,  who  commanded  at  the  memorable  sieges  of 
Oran  and  Mazarquivir.  Struck  with  the  small  size  of  the  castle  of  St.  Elmo, 
Hassem  intimated  his  surprise  that  it  should  have  held  out  so  long  against 
the  Turkish  arms  ;  and  he  besought  Mustapha  to  intrust  him  with  the  conduct 
of  the  assault  that  was  to  be  made  on  Fort  St.  Michael.  The  Turkish  general, 
not  unwilling  that  the  presumptuous  young  chief  should  himself  prove  the 
temper  of  the  Maltese  swords,  readily  gave  him  the  command,  and  the  day 
was  fixed  for  the  attack. 

Fortunately,  at  this  time,  a  deserter,  a  man  of  some  consequence  in  the 
Turkish  army,  crossed  over  to  II  Borgo  and  acquainted  the  grand  master  with 
the  designs  of  the  enemy.  La  Sangle  was  defended  on  the  north,  as  already 
noticed,  by  a  strong  iron  chain,  which,  stretching  across  the  Port  of  Galleys 
at  its  mouth,  would  prevent  trie  approach  of  boats  in  that  direction.  La 
Valette  now  caused  d  row  of  palisades  to  be  sunk  in  the  mud  at  the  bottom 
of  the  harbour,  in  a  line  extending  from  the  extreme  point  of  La  Sangle  to 
the  foot  of  Mount  Coradin.  These  were  bound  together  by  heavy  chains,  so 
well  secured  as  to  oppose  an  effectual  barrier  to  the  passage  of  the  Turkish 
flotilla.  The  length  of  this  barricade  was  not  great.  But  it  was  a  work  of 
much  difficulty,— not  the  less  so  that  it  was  necessary  to  perform  it  in  the 
night,  in  order  to  secure  the  workmen  from  the  enemy's  guns.  In  little  more 
than  a  week  it  was  accomplished.  Mustapha  sent  a  small  body  of  men, 
excellent  swimmers,  armed  with  axes,  to  force  an  opening  in  the  barrier. 
They  had  done  some  mischief  to  the  work,  when  a  party  of  Maltese,  swimming 
out,  with  their  swords  between  their  teeth,  fell  on  the  Turks,  beat  them  off, 
and  succeeded  in  restoring  the  palisades.5 

Early  in  the  morning,  on  the  fifteenth  of  July,  two  cannon  in  the  Ottoman 
lines,  from  opposite  sides  of  the  Great  Port,  gave  the  signal  for  the  assault. 
Hassem  prepared  to  lead  it,  in  person,  on  the  land-side.  The  attack  by  water 
he  intrusted  to  an  Algerine  corsair,  his  lieutenant.  Before  the  report  of  the 
cannon  had  died  away,  a  great  number  of  boats  were  seen  by  the  garrison  of 
St.  Michael  putting  qlf  from  the  opposite  shore.  They  were  filled  with  troops, 
and  among  these,  to  judge  from  their  dress,  were  many  persons  of  condition. 
The  account  is  given  by  the  old  soldier  so  often  quoted,  who,  stationed  on  the 
bastion  of  the  Spur,  had  a  full  view  of  the  enemy.  It  was  a  gay  spectacle, 
these  Moslem  chiefs  in  their  rich  Oriental  costumes,  with  their  gaudy-coloured 
turbans,  and  their  loose  flowing  mantles  of  crimson  or  of  cloth  of'  gold  and 
silver ;  the  beams  of  the  rising  sun  glancing  on  their  polished  weapons, — their 
bows  of  delicate  workmanship,  their  scimitars  from  the  forges  of  Alexandria 
and  Damascus,  their  muskets  of  Fez.8  "  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see,"  adds 

•  Balbi,  VerdaderaRelacion,  fol.  61, 6 ',  68. —  — Herrera,  Historia  general,  lib.  xii.  cap.  7 

Calderon,  Gloriosjt  Defensa  de  Malta,  pp.  95-  •  "  No  avia  hoinbre  que  no  truxesse  aljuba, 

100. — Vertot,   Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  iii.  pp.  el  que  menus  de  grana,  inuchos  de  tela  de  oro, 

4-7. — Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  \i.  c.ip.  26.  y  de  plata,  y  damasco  carmesi,  y  muy  buenas 


STORMING  OF  ST.  MICHAEL.  421 

the  chronicler,  with  some  'naivete,  "if  one  could  have  looked  on  it  without 
danger  to  himself." ' 

In  advance  of  the  squadron  came  two  or  three  boats,  bearing  persons  whose 
venerable  aspect  and  dark-coloured  robes  proclaimed  them  to  be  the  religious 
men  of  the  Moslems.  They  seemed  to  be  reciting  from  a  volume  before  them, 
and  muttering  what  might  be  prayers  to  Allah,— possibly  invoking  his  ven- 
geance on  the  infidel  But  these  soon  dropped  astern,  leaving  the  way  onen 
for  the  rest  of  the  flotilla,  which  steered  for  the  palisades,  with  the  intention 
evidently  of  forcing  a  passage.  But  the  barrier  proved  too  strong  for  their 
efforts ;  and,  chafed  by  the  musketry  which  now  opened  on  them  from  the 
bastion,  the  Algerine  commander  threw  himself  into  the  water,  which  was 
somewhat  above  his  girdle,  and,  followed  by  his  men,  advanced  boldly  towards 
the  shore. 

Two  mortars  were  mounted  on  the  rampart.  But,  through  some  mismanage- 
ment, they  were  not  worked ;  and  the  assailants  were  allowed  to  reach  the 
foot  of  the  bastion,  which  they  prepared  to  carry  by  escalade.  Applying  their 
ladders,  they  speedily  began  to  mount ;  when  they  were  assailed  by  showers 
of  stones,  hana-grenades,  and  combustibles  of  various  kinds  ;  while  huge  frag- 
ments of  rock  were  rolled  over  the  parapet,  crushing  men  and  ladders  and 
scattering  them  in  ruin  below.  The  ramparts  were  covered  with  knights  and 
soldiers,  among  whom  the  stately  form  of  Antonio  de  Zanoguerra,  the  com- 
mander of  the  post,  was  conspicuous,  towei  ing  above  his  comrades  and  cheering 
them  on  to  the  fight.  Meantime  the  assailants,  mustering  like  a  swarm  pi 
hornets  to  the  attack,  were  soon  seen  replacing  the  broken  ladders  and  again 
clambering  up  the  walls.  The  leading  files  were  pushed  upward  by  those 
below ;  yet  scarcely  l»ad  the  bold  adventurers  risen  above  the  parapet  when 
they  were  pierced  by  the  pikes  of  the  soldiers  or  struck  down  t»y  the  swords 
ana  battle-axes  of  the  knights.  At  this  crisis,  a  spark  unfortunately  falling 
into  the  magazine  of  combustibles,  it  took  fire,  and  blew  up  with  a  terrific 
explosion,  killing  or  maiming  numbers  of  the  garrison,  and  rolling  volumes  of 
blinding  smoke  along  the  bastion.  The  besiegers  profited  by  the  confusion 
to  gain  a  footing  on  the  ramparts  ;  and,  when  the  ciouds  of  vapour  began  to 
dissipate,  the  garrison  were  astonished  to  find  their  enemies  at  their  side,  and 
a  number  of  small  banners,  such  as  the  Turks  usually  bore  into  the  fight, 
planted  on  the  walls.  The  contest  now  raged  fiercer  than  ever,  as  the  parties 
fought  on  more  equal  terms,— the  Mussulmans  smarting  under  their  wounds, 
and  the  Christians  fired  with  the  recollection  of  St.  Elmo  and  the  desire  of 
avenging  their  slaughtered  brethren.  The  struggle  continued  long  afU-r  the 
sun,  rising  high  in  the  heavens,  poured  down  a  flood  of  heat  on  the  combatants ; 
and  the  garrison,  pressed  by  superior  numlters,  weary,  and  faint  with  wounds, 
were  hardly  able  to  keep  their  footing  on  the  slippery  ground,  saturated  with 
their  own  blood  and  that  of  their  enemies.  Still  the  cheering  tattle-cry  of  !St. 
John  rose  in  the  air,  and  their  brave  leafier,  Zanoguerra,  at  the  head  of  his 
knights,  was  to  be  seen  in  the  thickest  of  the  light.  There  too  was  Brother 
Robert,  an  ecclesiastic  of  the  order,  with  a  sword  in  one  hand  and  a  crucifix 
in  the  other,  though  wounded  himself,  rushing  among  the  ranks  and  exhorting 
the  men  to  "  fight  for  the  faith  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  die  in  it*  defence."  • 

eoropetu  (Wet.  clmlUran  de  Alexandria,  j  qnal  *n  «odo  el  •Malto  r™  P°r  «""*••  '«• 

dp  Oanvmro.  arcoH  mny  flno«.  y  muy  ric<*  po«ia*  «m  un  crudflxo  nt  l«  una  mano.  v  U 

turbanwii."  BalW.  Verda.l*  ra  IVUciun.  f»l.  70.  e»|iada  en  U  otr* :  tnlBMdono*  •  blen  iix.rir. 

'  "Carfcadandep-nte  muy  lur.U.  vl*ia  por  v  polc.r  par  It  fc  dl  I«-«i  Clirirti. :  jr  fu« 

clfrto  muy  llnda,  tiao  furra  Un  peligrima."  Wl.l  >  erte  ilia  in  patcruldad."  UaJU,  IbW., 

Ibid  .  ubi  supra.  M-  "• 

•    "Kurttro  predicador    fray    Roberto,  el 


*22  SIEGE  OP  MALTA. 

At  this  crisis,  the  commander,  Zanoguerra,  though  clad  in  armour  of  proof, 
was  hit  by  a  random  musket-shot,  which  stretched  him  lifeless  on  the  rampart 
At  his  fall  the  besiegers  set  up  a  shout  of  triumph,  and  redoubled  their  efforts' 
it  would  now  have  gone  hard  with  the  garrison  had  it  not  been  for  a  timely  j 
reinforcement  which  arrived  from  II  Borgo.  It  was  sent  by  La  Valette,  who 
had  learned  the  perilous  state  of  the  bastion.  He  had,  not  long  before  this, 
caused  a  floating  bridge  to  be  laid  across  the  Port  of  Galleys,—  thus  connect- 
ing the  two  peninsulas  with  each  other  and  affording  a  much  readier  means  of 
communication  than  before  existed. 

While  this  was  going  on,  a  powerful  reinforcement  was  on  its  way  to  the 
support  of  the  assailants.  Ten  boats  of  the  largest  size,  having  a  thousand 
janizaries  on  board,  were  seen  advancing  across  the  Great  Harbour  from  the 
opposite  shore.  Taking  warning  by  the  fate  of  their  countrymen,  they  avoided 
the  palisades,  and,  pursuing  a  more  northerly  course,  stood  for  the  extreme 
point  of  the  bpur.  By  so  doing  they  exposed  themselves  to  the  fire  of  a 
battery  m  St.  Angelo,  sunk  down  almost  to  the  water's  level  It  was  this 
depressed  condition  of  the  work  that  secured  it  from  the  notice  of  the  Turks 
Ihe  battery,  mounted  with  five  guns,  was  commanded  by  the  Chevalier  de 
^uiral,  who  coolly  waited  until  the  enemy  had  come  within  range  of  his  shot 
when  he  gave  the  word  to  fire.  The  pieces  were  loaded  with  heavy  balls,  and 
with  bags  filled  with  chain  and  bits  of  iron.  The  effect  of  the  discharge  was 
terrible.  Nine  of  the  barges  were  shattered  to  pieces,  and  immediately  sank  9 
1  he  water  was  covered  with  the  splinters  of  the  vessels,  with  mutilated  trunks 
dissevered  limbs,  fragments  of  clothes,  and  quantities  of  provisions  •  for  the 
enemy  came  prepared  to  take  up  their  quarters  permanently  in  the  fortress. 
Amidst  the  dismal  wreck  a  few  wretches  were  to  be  seen  struggling  with  the 
waves  and  calling  on  their  comrades  for  help.  But  those  in  the  surviving 
boat,  when  they  had  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  explosion,  had  no  mind 
to  remain  longer  in  so  perilous  a  position,  but  made  the  best  of  their  way  back 
to  the  shore,  leaving  their  companions  to  their  fate.  Day  after  day  the  waves 
threw  upon  the  strand  the  corpses  of  the  drowned  men  ;  and  the  Maltese 
divers  ong  continued  to  drag  up  from  the  bottom  rich  articles  of  wearin°-- 
apparel,  ornaments,  and  even  purses  of  money,  which  had  been  upon  tne 
persons  of  the  janizaries.  Eight  hundred  are  said  -to  have  perished  by  this 
disaster,  which  may,  not  improbably,  have  decided  the  fate  of  the  fortress  :  for 
the  strength  of  the  reinforcement  would  have  been  more  than  a  match  for  that 
sent  by  La  Valette  to  the  support  of  the  garrison.10 

Meanwhile,  the  succours  detached  by  the  grand  master  had  no  sooner 
entered  the  bastion  than,  seeing  their  brethren  so  hard  beset,  and  the  Moslem 
flags  planted  along  the  parapet,  they  cried  their  war-cry  and  fell  furiously  on 
the  enemy.  In  this  they  were  well  supported  by  the  garrison,  who  gathered 
strength  at  the  sight  of  the  reinforcement.  The  Turks,  now  pressed  on  all 
!L  VgVe  way-j  bom,e  SHCceede(l  '«  making  their  escape  by  the  ladders,  as 
they  had  entered.  Others  were  hurled  down  on  the  rocks  below  Most  turn- 
ing on  their  assailants,  fell  fighting  on  the  rampart  which  they  had  so  nearly 
won.  Those  who  escaped  hurried  to  the  shore,  hoping  to  gain  the  boats,  which 
lay  off  at  some  distance  ;  when  a  detachment,  sallying  from  the  bastion,  inter- 
cepted their  flight.  Thus  at  bay,  they  had  no  alternative  but  to  fight.  But 

•  "Echonueve  haras  delas  roayores  a  fondo        Guiral  fue  este  dia  a  juyzio  de  todos  la  sal- 
que  no  ae  salvo  ninguno.  y  auria  en  estas        vacion  de  la  Isla,  porque  si  las  barcas  y*  dic- 
TUrC°8'"    rtulbi>  Verdadera        b*»  echav.,,  su  gSte  en  tierra  no  leTpSie™- 


f  to  have  be,n  Bale's  opinion  : 

Jin  conclusion,  la  casa  uiata  del  coineudador 


SLAUGHTER  OF  THE  TURKS.  423 

their  spirit  was  gone ;  and  they  were  easily  hewed  down  by  their  pursuers. 
Some,  throwing  themselves  on  their  knees,  piteously  begged  for  mercy.  "  Such 
mercy,"  shouted  the  victors,  "  as  you  showed  at  St.  Elmo  ! "  "  and  buried  their 
daggers  in  their  bodies. 

While  this  bloody  work  was  going  on  below,  the  knights  and  soldiers 
gathered  on  the  exposed  points  of  the  bastion  above  presented  an  obvious 
mark  to  the  Turkish  guns  across  the  water,  wliich  had  not  been  worked  during 
the  assault,  for  fear  of  injuring  the  assailants.  Now  that  the  Turks  had 
vanished  from  the  ramparts,  some  heavy  shot  were  thrown  among  the  Chris- 
tians, with  fatal  effect.  Among  others  who  were  slain  was  Frederick  de  Toledo. 
a  son  of  the  viceroy  of  Sicily.  He  was  a  young  knight  of  great  promise,  ana 
was  under  the  especial  care  of  the  grand  master,  who  kept  him  constantly  near 
his  person.  But  when  the  generous  youth  learned  the  extremity  to  which  his 
brethren  in  La  Sangle  were  reduced,  he  secretly  joined  the  reinforcement 
which  was  going  to  their  relief,  and  did  his  duty  like  a  good  knight  in  the 
combat  which  followed.  While  on  the  rampart,  he  was  struck  down  by  a 
cannon-shot ;  and  a  splinter  from  his  cuirass  mortally  wounded  a  comrade  to 
whom  he  was  speaking  at  the  time. 

While  the  fight  was  thus  going  on  at  the  Spur,  Hassera  was  storming  the 
breach  of  Fort  St.  Michael,  on  the  opposite  quarter.  The  storming-party, 
consisting  of  both  Moors  and  Turks,  rushed  to  the  assault  with  their  usual 
intrepidity.  But  they  found  a  very  different  enemy  from  the  spectral  forms 
which,  wasted  by  toil  and  suffering,  had  opposed  so  ineffectual  a  resistance  in 
the  last  days  of  St.  Elmo.  In  vain  did  the  nishing  tide  of  assailants  endeavour 
to  force  an  opening  through  the  stern  array  of  warriors,  which,  like  a  wall  of 
iron,  now  filled  up  the  breach.  Recoiling  in  confusion,  the  leading  files  fell 
back  upon  the  rear,  and  all  was  disorder.  But  Hassem  soon  reformed  his 
ranks,  and  again  led  them  to  the  charge.  Again  they  were  repulsed  with  loss  ; 
but,  as  fresh  troops  came  to  their  aid,  the  little  garrison  must  have  been  borne 
down  by  numbers,  liad  not  their  comrades,  flushed  with  their  recent  victory  at 
the  bastion,  hurried  to  their  support,  and,  sweeping  like  a  whirlwind  through 
the  breach,  driven  the  enemy  with  dreadful  carnage  along  the  slope  and  com- 
pelled him  to  take  refuge  in  his  trenches. 

Thus  ended  the  first  assault  of  the  besiegers  since  the  fall  of  St.  Elmo. 
The  success  of  the  Christians  was  complete.  Between  three  and  four  thousand 
Mussulmans,  including  those  who  were  drowned, — according  to  the  Maltese 
statements — fell  in  the  two  attacks  on  the  fortress  and  the  bastion.  But  the 
arithmetic  of  an  enemy  is  not  apt  to  be  exact.12  The  loss  of  the  Christians 
did  not  exceed  two  hundred.  Even  this  was  a  heavy  loss  to  the  besieged,  and 
included  some  of  their  best  knights,  to  say  nothing  of  others  disabled  oy  their 
wounds.  Still,  it  was  a  signal  victory ;  and  its  influence  was  felt  in  raising 
the  spirits  of  the  besieged  and  in  inspiring  them  with  confidence.  La  Valette 
was  careful  to  cherish  these  feelings.  The  knights,  followed  by  the  whole 
population  of  II  Borgo,  went  in  solemn  procession  to  the  great  church  of  St. 
Lawrence,  where  Te  l>eum  was  chanted,  while  the  colours  taken  from  the 
infidel  were  suspended  from  the  walls  as  glorious  trophies  of  the  victory.1* 

"  Vertot.  Knighu  of  Malta,  vol.  111.  p.  IX  Michael  and  the  Spur  are  Riven  by  Balbl,  Ver- 

"  Compare  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  dadera  Ke.aclon,  lul.  61-74;  and  with  nrore  or 

ill.  p.  13,  and  Balbi,  Verdadeia  Ilelacioii,  iul.  less  inaccuracy  by  Vertot,  Knighu  of  Malta. 

73.  —  The   latter  chronicler,   for  a  wonder,  vol.  Hi.  pp.  H-13;  Calderon,  Glorlona  Itefpnftade 

M.aes  the  RUTH  totnl  of  the  killed  to  a  norae-  Malta,  pp.  110-118;  De  Thou,  Hl«totreunlver- 

what  higher  figure  tlian  the  abbe,— calling  It  •elle.   torn,    v     pp.    73-74  ;    Cabrera,   Fillpe 

full  four  thousand.  Segundo,  lib.  v.  cap.   26;    Herrrra,    Htxtoria 

"  The   particulars  of  the  assaults  on  St.  general,   lib.  xii.  cap.  7  ;   Sagredo,  Mouarca* 


424  SIEGE  OP  MALTA. 

Mustapha  now  found  that  the  spirit  of  the  besieged,  far  from  being  broken 
by  their  late  reverses,  was  higher  than  ever,  as  their  resources  were  greater, 
and  their  fortifications  stronger,  than  those  of  St.  Elmo.  He  saw  the  neces- 
sity of  proceeding  with  greater  caution.  He  resolved  to  level  the  defences  of 
the  Christians  with  the  ground,  and  then,  combining  the  whole  strength  of 
his  forces,  make  simultaneous  assaults  on  II  Borgo  and  St.  Michael.  His  first 
step  was  to  continue  his  line  of  intrenchments  below  St.  Salvador  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  thus  cut  off  the  enemy's  communication  with  the  opposite 
side  of  the  English  Port,  by  means  of  which  the  late  reinforcement  from  Sicily 
had  reached  him.  He  further  strengthened  the  battery  on  St.  Salvador, 
arming  it  with  sixteen  guns, — two  of  them  of  such  enormous  calibre  as  to 
throw  stone  bullets  of  three  hundred  pounds'  weight. 

From  this  ponderous  battery  he  now  opened  a  crushing  fire  on  the  neigh- 
bouring bastion  of  Castile,  and  on  the  quarter  of  II  Borgo  lying  nearest  to  it. 
The  storm  of  marble  and  metal  that  fell  upon  the  houses,  though  these  were 
built  of  stone,  soon  laid  many  of  them  in  ruins ;  and  the  shot,  sweeping  the 
streets,  killed  numbers  of  the  inhabitants,  including  women  and  children.  La 
Valette  caused  barriers  of  solid  masonry  to  be  raised  across  the  streets  for  the 
protection  of  the  citizens.  As  this  was  a  work  of  great  danger,  he  put  his 
slaves  upon  it,  trusting,  too,  that  the  enemy  might  be  induced  to  mitigate  his 
fire  from  tenderness  for  the  lives  of  his  Moslem  brethren.  But  in  such  an 
expectation  he  greatly  erred.  More  than  five  hundred  slaves  fell  under  the 
incessant  volleys  of  the  besiegers  ;  and  it  was  only  by  the  most  severe,  indeed 
cruel  treatment,  that  these  unfortunate  beings  could  be  made  to  resume  their 
labours.14 

La  Valette  at  this  time,  in  order  to  protect  the  town  against  assault  on  the 
side  of  the  English  Port,  caused  a  number  of  vessels  laden  with  heavy  stones 
to  be  sunk  not  far  from  shore.  They  were  further  secured  by  anchors  bound 
to  one  another  with  chains,  forming  altogether  an  impenetrable  barrier  against 
any  approach  by  water. 

The  inhabitants  of  II  Borgo,  as  well  as  the  soldiers,  were  now  active  in 
preparations  for  defence.  Some  untwisted  large  ropes  and  cables  to  get 
materials  for  making  bags  to  serve  as  gabions.  Some  were  busy  with  manu- 
facturing dilierent  sorts  of  fireworks,  much  relied  on  as  a  means  of  defence  by 
the  besieged.  Others  were  employed  in  breaking  up  the  large  stones  from 
the  ruined  buildings  into  smaller  ones,  which  proved  efficient  missiles  when 
hurled  on  the  heads  of  the  assailants  below.  But  the  greatest  and  most 
incessant  labour  was  that  of  repairing  the  breaches,  or  of  constructing 
retrenchments  to  defend  them.  The  sound  of  the  hammer  and  the  saw  was 
everywhere  to  be  heard.  The  fires  of  the  forges  were  never  suffered  to  go 
out  The  hum  of  labour  was  as  unintermitting  throughout  the  city  as  in  the 
season  of  peace  ;  but  with  a  very  different  end.'* 

Over  all  these  labours  the  grand  master  exercised  a  careful  superintendence. 
He  was  always  on  the  spot  where  his  presence  was  needed.  His  eye  seemed 
never  to  slumber.  He  performed  many  of  the  duties  of  a  soldier,  as  well  as 
of  a  commander.  He  made  the  rounds  constantly  in  the  night,  to  see  that 

Othomanos,  p.  246  ;  Oampana,  Vita  di  Filippo  brcs  llegaron  atal  de  puron  cansados  y  acabados 

Secondo,  torn.  ii.  p.  160.  del  tr,.h  jo  continuo,  que  no  podian  estar  en 

'•  Cruel  indeed,  according  to  the  report  of  pic,  y  se  dexuvan  cortar  las  orajas  y  niatar, 

Balbi,  who  tells  us  that  the  Christians  cut  off  por  no  poder  trabajur  mas."   lialbi,  Verdadera 

the  ears  of  the  more  refractory,  and  even  put  Rela  ion,  fol.  66. 

some  of  them  to  death, — pour  encourager  Its  ''  Balbi,  V>  rdad'  ra  Relacion,  fol.  67,  77. — 

autres:  "  Han  muerto  en  esta  Jornada  al  tra-  Vortot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.iii.  p.  !*>.— Cam- 

bajo  mas  de  quinientos  esclavos;  mas  los  po-  paiia,  Vita  di  Filippo  Secondo,  torn.  ii.  p.  160. 


CONDUCT  OF  THE  VICEROY.  425 

all  was  well  and  that  the  sentinels  were  at  their  posts.  On  these  occasions 
lie  freely  exposed  himself  to  danger,  showing  a  carelessness  of  his  own  safety 
that  called  forth  more  than  once  the  remonstrances  of  his  brethren.  He  was 
indeed  watchful  over  all,  says  the  old  chronicler  who  witnessed  it ;  showing 
no  sign  of  apprehension  in  his  valiant  countenance,  but  by  his  noble  presence 
giving  heart  and  animation  to  his  followers." 

Yet  the  stoutest  heart  which  witnessed  the  scene  might  well  have  thrilled 
with  apprehension.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  lines  of  the  Moslem  army 
stretchea  over  hill  and  valley  ;  while  a  deafening  roar  of  artillery  from  tour- 
teen  batteries  shook  the  solid  earth,  and,  borne  across  the  waters  for  more 
than  a  hundred  miles,  sounded  to  the  inhabitants  of  Syracuse  and  Catania 
like  the  inutterings  of  distant  thunder.17  In  the  midst  of  this  turmoil,  and 
encompassed  by  the  glittering  lines  of  the  besiegers,  the  two  Christian  for- 
tresses might  be  dimly  discerned  amidst  volumes  of  fire  and  smoke,  which, 
rolling  darkly  round  their  summits,  almost  hid  from  view  the  banner  of  St. 
John,  proudly  waving  in  the  breeze,  as  in  defiance  of  the  enemy. 

But  the  situation  of  the  garrison,  as  the  works  crumbled  under  the  stroke 
of  the  bullet,  became  every  day  more  critical.  La  Valette  contrived  to  send 
information  of  it  to  the  viceroy  of  Sicily,  urging  him  to  delay  his  coming  no 
longer,  if  he  would  save  the  island.  But,  strange  to  say,  such  was  the  timid 
policy  that  had  crept  into  the  viceroy's  councils  that  it  was  seriously  discussed 
whether  it  was  expedient  to  send  aid  at  all  to  the  Knights  of  Malta  !  Some 
insisted  that  there  was  no  obligation  on  Spain  to  take  any  part  in  the  quarrel, 
and  that  the  knights  should  be  left  to  fignt  out  the  battle  with  the  Turks  in 
Malta,  as  they  had  before  done  in  Rhodes.  Others  remonstrated  against  this, 
declaring  it  would  be  an  eternal  blot  on  the  scutcheon  of  Castile  if  she  should 
desert  in  their  need  the  brave  chivalry  who  for  so  many  years  had  been  fight- 
ing the  battles  of  Christendom.  The  king  of  Spain,  in  particular,  as  the 
feudatory  sovereign  of  the  order,  was  bound  to  protect  the  island  from  the 
Turks,  who  moreover,  once  in  possession  of  it,  would  prove  the  most  terrible 
scourge  that  ever  fell  on  the  commerce  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  more 
generous,  happily  the  more  politic,  counsel  prevailed ;  and  the  viceroy  con- 
trived to  convey  an  assurance  to  the  grand  master  that  if  he  could  hold  out 
till  the  end  of  <he  following  month  he  would  come  with  sixteen  thousand  men 
to  his  relief.'* 

But  this  was  a  long  period  for  men  in  extremity  to  wait.  La  Valette  saw 
with  grief  how  much  deceived  he  had  been  in  thus  leaning  on  the  viceroy. 
He  determined  to  disappoint  his  brethren  no  longer  by  holding  out  delusive 
promises  of  succour.  The  only  succour  to  be  relied  on,"  he  said,  "  was  that 
of  Almighty  God.  He  who  has  hitherto  preserved  his  children  from  danger 
will  not  now  abandon  them."  "  La  Valette  reminded  his  followers  that  they 
were  the  soldiers  of  Heaven,  fighting  for  the  Faith,  for  liberty  and  life. 
"  (Should  the  enemy  prevail,"  he  added,  with  a  politic  suggestion,  "the  Chris 

"  "En  fin  era  in  t"do  diligent*,  vigilante  y  ay  clento  y  vevnte  inillas  dc  Malta  a  estasdos 

ati1mon<>,  y  jama*  He  conoBcio  en  au  valerono  ciudadi-s."   lialM,  Verdadera  Kelaclon,  fol.  78. 

M-iiil>laiit«-  ninguiia  orfial  de  temor,  ante*  con  "  Vertot,  Knighta  ol  Malta,  vol.  lii.  pp.  21, 

eu   [TPHi-iicu   Uava   ecfuerjo   y   aiilino  a   fua  22. 

rav.illrn*    j    noldadud."      Balbl,    Venladera  "  "  Plxopubllcanient*.  queelnoaftuardava 

Kelaclon.  fol.  77.  nocorro  ya  xlno  era  del   nmnipotentr  I  >i<>-  el 

"  "  Luego  que  todaa  efttaa  bateria*  cotnen-  qua!  era  el  noccurm  viTdailero,  y  el  que  liasta 

c»f"ii  de   lialir.  y   irxlaa  en   un  tit-inpo,  era  enUuice*  now  liavia  llbra>lo,  y  que  nl  ma*  ni 

tantn  el  ruydo  y  t  em 'lor  que  parecia  quereme  menoa  non  Itbraria  p  r  <•!  avenir,  d»laa  mntio* 

Ri-abar  el  mudo.  y  puedene  blen  civer  que  el  drlwt  ewmiftitM  de  mi  nanta  fee."     Balbl,  V'cr- 

ruvdo  fuesw  tal,  puen  *e  nentia  muy  claru-  dadera  ttelaciun,  ful.  81. 
lueute  deiide  C'arago^-a,  y  deudc  CaUuia,  que 


426  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

tians  could  expect  no  better  fate  than  that  of  their  comrades  in  St.  Elmo." 
The  grand  master's  admonition  was  not  lost  upon  the  soldiers.  "Every  man 
of  us,"  says  Balbi.  "resolved  to  die  rather  than  surrender,  and  to  sell  his  life 
as  dearly  as  possible.  From  that  hour  no  man  talked  of  succours."20 

One  of  those  spiritual  weapons  from  the  papal  armoury,  which  have  some- 
times proved  of  singular  em'cacy  in  times  of  need,  came  now  most  seasonably 
to  the  aid  of  La  Vaiette.  A  bull  of  Pius  the  Fourth  granted  plenary  indul- 
gence for  all  the  sins  which  had  been  committed  by  those  engaged  in  this  holy 
war  against  the  Moslems.  "There  were  few,"  says  the  chronicler,  "either 
women  or  men,  old  enough  to  appreciate  it,  who  did  not  strive  to  merit  this 
grace,  by  most  earnest  devotion  to  the  cause,  and  who  did  not  have  entire 
faith  that  all  who  died  in  the  good  work  would  be  at  once  received  into 
glory."  " 

More  than  two  Aveeks  had  elapsed  since  the  attempt,  so  disastrous  to  the 
Turks,  on  the  fortress  of  St.  Michael.  During  this  time  they  had  kept  up  an 
unintermitting  fire  on  the  Christian  fortifications  ;  and  the  effect  was  visible 
in  more  than  one  fearful  gap,  which  invited  the  assault  of  the  enemy.  The 
second  of  August  was  accordingly  fixed  on  as  the  day  for  a  general  attack,  to 
be  made  on  both  Fort  St.  Michael  and  on  the  bastion  of  Castile,  which,  situ- 
ated at  the  head  of  the  English  Port,  eastward  of  II  Borgo,  flanked  the  line  of 
defence  on  that  quarter.  Mustapha  was  to  conduct  in  person  the  operations 
against  the  fort ;  the  assault  on  the  bastion  he  intrusted  to  Piali ;— a  division 
of  the  command  by  which  the  ambition  of  the  rival  chiefs  would  be  roused  to 
the  utmost. 

Fortunately,  La  Vaiette  obtained  notice,  through  some  deserters,  of  the 
plans  of  the  Turkish  commanders,  and  made  his  preparations  accordingly.  On 
the  morning  of  the  second,  Piali's  men,  at  the  appointed  signal,  moved  briskly 
forward  to  the  assault.  They  soon  crossed  the  ditch,  but  partially  tilled  with 
the  ruins  of  the  rampart,  scaled  the  ascent  in  face  of  a  sharp  tire  of  musketry, 
and  stood  at  length,  with  ranks  somewhat  shattered,  on  the  summit  of  the 
breach.  But  here  they  were  opposed  by  retrenchments  within,  thrown  up  by 
the  besieged,  from  behind  which  they  now  poured  such  heavy  volleys  among 
the  assailants  as  staggered  the  front  of  the  column  and  compelled  it  to  fall 
back  some  paces  in  the  rear.  Here  it  was  encountered  by  those  pushing 
forward  from  below  ;  and  some  confusion  ensued.  This  was  increased  by  the 
vigour  with  which  the  garrison  now  plied  their  musketry  from  the  ramparts, 
hurling  down  at  the  same  time  heavy  logs,  hand-grenades,  and  torrents  of 
scalding  pitch  on  the  heads  of  the  assailing  column,  which,  blinded  and  stag- 
gering under  the  shock,  reeled  to  and  fro  like  a  drunken  man.  To  add  to 
their  distress,  the  feet  of  the  soldiers  were  torn  and  entangled  among  the 
spikes  which  had  been  thickly  set  in  the  ruins  of  the  breach  by  the  besieged. 
Woe  to  him  who  fell !  His  writhing  body  was  soon  trampled  under  the  press. 
In  vain  the  Moslem  chiefs  endeavoured  to  restore  order.  Their  voices  were 
lost  in  the  wild  uproar  that  raged  around.  At  this  crisis  the  knights,  charging 
at  the  head  of  their  followers,  cleared  the  breach,  and  drove  the  enemy  with 
loss  into  his  trenches. 

There  the  broken  column  soon  reformed,  and,  strengthened  by  fresh  troops, 
was  again  brought  to  the  attack.  But  this  gave  a  respite  to  the  garrison, 

*"  "  E-ita  habla  del  gran  Maestre  luego  fue  supra. 

divulgad;i,y  asi  todu  la  gente  se  determine  de  "  "No  quedo  hombre  ni  muger  de  edad 

primero  morir  que  venir  a  maims  de  turcos  para  ello  que  no  lo ganasse  con  devi<:ion  gran- 

vivos,  pero  tambien  se  determine  de  vender  dissima,  y  con  muy  firme  esperun<;a  y  te  de  yr 

muy  bt'ii  sus  vidas,  y  asi  ya  no  s<-  tratava  de  ala  gloria,  muriendo  en  la  Jornada."    Ibid., 

eocorro."      Balbi,    Verdadera   Kelaciou,   ubi  fol.  71. 


GENERAL  ASSAULT.  427 

which  La  Valette  improved  by  causing  refreshments  to  be  served  to  the 
soldiers.  By  his  provident  care,  skins  containing  wine  and  water,  with  rations 
of  bread,  were  placed  near  the  points  of  attack,  to  be  distributed  among  the 
men.**  The  garrison,  thus  strengthened,  were  enabled  to  meet  the  additional 
forces  brought  against  them  by  the  enemy  ;  and  the  refreshments  on  the  one 
side  were  made,  in  some  sort,  to  counterbalance  the  reinforcements  on  the 
other.  Vessels  filled  with  salt  and  water  were  also  at  hand,  to  bathe  the 
wounds  of  such  as  were  injured  by  the  fireworks.  "  Without  these  various 
precautions,"  says  the  chronicler,  "  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  so  few 
men  a?  we  were  to  keep  our  ground  against  such  a  host  as  now  assailed  us  on 
every  quarter."  ** 

Again  and  again  the  discomfited  Turks  gathered  strength  for  a  new  assault, 
and  as  often  they  were  repulsed  with  the  same  loss  as  before,— till  Piali  drew 
oil  his  dispirited  legions,  and  abandoned  all  further  attempts  for  that  day. 

It  fared  no  better  on  the  other  quarter,  where  the  besiegers,  under  the  eye 
of  the  commander-in-chief,  were  storming  the  fortress  of  St.  Michael  6n 
every  point  the  stout-hearted  chivalry  of  St.  John  were  victorious.  But  victory 
was  bought  at  a  heavy  price. 

The  Turks  returned  to  the  attack  on  the  day  following,  and  on  each  suc- 
ceeding day.  It  was  evidently  their  purpose  to  profit  by  their  superior  numbers 
to  harass  the  besieged  and  reduce  them  to  a  state  of  exhaustion.  One  of 
these  assaults  was  near  being  attended  with  fatal  consequences. 

A  mine  which  ran  under  the  bastion  of  Castile  was  sprung,  and  brought 
down  a  wide  extent  of  the  rampart.  The  enemy,  prepared  for  the  event, 
mounting  the  smoking  ruins,  poured  through  the  undefended  breach, — or 
defended  only  by  a  handful  of  tne  garrison,  who  were  taken  unawares.  The 
next  minute,  the  great  standard  of  the  Ottomans  was  planted  on  the  walls. 
The  alarm  was  raised  In  a  few  moments  the  enemy  would  have  been  in  the 
heart  of  the  town.  An  ecclesiastic  of  the  order,  Brother  William  by  name, 
terrified  at  the  sight,  made  all  haste  to  the  grand  master,  then  at  his  usual 
station  in  the  public  square.  Rushing  into  his  presence,  the  priest  called  on 
him  to  take  refuge,  while  he  could,  in  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo,  as  the  enemy 
had  broken  into  the  town.  But  the  dauntless  chief,  snatching  up  his  pike, 
with  no  other  protection  than  his  he-met,  and  calling  out  to  those  around  him, 
"  Now  is  the  time !  let  us  die  together ! " 24  hurried  to  the  scene  of  action, 
where,  rallying  his  followers,  he  fell  furiously  on  the  enemy.  A  sharp  struggle 
ensued.  More  than  one  knight  was  struck  down  by  La  Valette's  side.  He 
himself  was  wounded  in  the  leg  by  the  splinter  of  a  hand-grenade.  The 
alarm-bell  of  the  city  rang  violently.  The  cry  was  raised  that  the  grand 
master  was  in  danger.  Knights,  soldiers,  and  townsmen  came  rushing  to  the 
8|X)t  Even  the  sick  sprang  from  their  beds  and  made  such  haste  as  they 
could  to  the  rescue.  The  Moslems,  pressed  on  all  sides,  and  shaken  by  the 
resolute  charge,  fell  back  slowly  on  the  breach. 

The  cavaliers  would  now  fain  have  persuaded  the  grand  master,  who  was 
still  standing  among  a  heap  of  the  slain,  to  retire  to  some  place  of  safety  and 
leave  the  issue  of  the  battle  to  his  companions.  But,  fixing  his  eye  on  the 

"  "  Tenla  tnandado,  que  en  todo*  Ion  dlaa  tanta  furia  pertinacla,  princi  palmate   Mendo 

de  an  vi  I  to  Be  llevaiweii  p»r  toda*  la*   (rota*  now, iron  Ian  pucoa,  y  i-llos  tantoa."   Ibid.,  ubi 

adonde  ae  pelruiwe,  niuchuft  b-iyvclos  de  vino  aupra. 

aKUad",  y  pan  para  lefreoc.ir  *n  gpntc,  pueft  de  ••  "  El  gran  Maextre  MM  mudarft",  nl  altcr- 

Rpnte  no  podia."     lialbi,  Verdaderu  Kelacion,  aree  de  MI  semblunte  valenw).  dixo,  Vamos  a 

fol.  91.  niorlr  alia  todos  cavalleruo,  Q  oy  e»  el  dia." 

"  "SI  todax  ef»Un  burnas  onlffics  no  uvlera.  Ibid.,  fol.  90. 
no  ba^taran  fu'Ti;  >i  hutuuuas  p.ir.i  rwUtir  a 


428  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

Ottoman  standard,  still  floating  above  the  walls,  he- mournfully  shook  his 
head,  in  token  of  his  resolution  to  remain.  The  garrison,  spurred  on  by  shame 
and  indignation,  again  charged  the  Moslems,  with  greater  fury  than  before. 
The  colours,  wrenched  from  the  ramparts,  were  torn  to  shreds  in  the  struggle. 
The  Christians  prevailed ;  and  the  Turks,  quailing  before  their  invincible 
spirit,  were  compelled,  after  a  long  and  bloody  contest,  to  abandon  the  works 
they  had  so  nearly  won. 

Still  the  grand  master,  far  from  retiring,  took  up  his  quarters  for  the  night 
iu  the  neighbourhood  of  the  breach.  He  had  no  doubt  that  the  enemy  would 
return  under  cover  of  the  darkness  and  renew  the  assault  before  the  garrison 
had  time  to  throw  up  retrenchments.  It  was  in  vain  his  companions  besought 
him  to  withdraw,  to  leave  the  fight  to  them,  and  not  to  risk  a  life  so  precious 
to  the  community.  "  And  how  can  an  old  man  like  me,"  he  said,  "  end  his 
life  more  gloriously  than  when  surrounded  by  his  brethren  and  fighting  the 
battles  of  the  Cross '( " 2i 

La  Valette  was  right  in  his  conjecture.  No  sooner  had  the  darkness  fallen 
than  the  Turkish  host,  again  under  arms,  came  surging  on  across  the  ruins  of 
the  rampart  towards  the  breach.  But  it  was  not  under  cover  of  the  darkness ; 
for  the  whole  bay  was  illumined  by  the  incessant  flash  of  artillery,  by  the  blaze 
of  combustibles,  and  the  fiery  track  of  the  missiles  darting  through  the  air. 
Thus  the  combat  was  carried  on  as  by  the  light  of  day.  The  garrison,  pre- 
pared for  the  attack,  renewed  the  scenes  of  the  morning,  and  again  beat  off 
the  assailants,  who,  broken  and  dispirited,  could  not  be  roused,  even  by  the 
blows  of  their  officers,  to  return  to  the  assault.2" 

On  the  following  morning,  La  Valette  caused  Te  Deum  to  be  sung  in  the 
church  of  St.  Lawrence,  and  thanks  to  be  ottered  at  the  throne  of  grace  for 
their  deliverance.  And  if  the  ceremonies  were  not  conducted  with  the  accus- 
tomed pomp  of  the  order  of  St.  John,  they  were  at  least  accompanied,  says  the 
chronicler,  who  bore  his  part  in  them,  by  the  sacrifice  of  contrite  hearts, — as 
was  shown  by  the  tears  of  many  a  man,  as  well  as  woman,  in  the  procession.27 

There  was  indeed  almost  as  much  cause  for  sorrow  as  for  joy.  However 
successful  the  Christians  had  been  in  maintaining  their  defence,  and  however 
severe  the  loss  they  had  inflicted  on  the  enemy,  they  had  to  mourn  the  loss  of 
some  of  their  most  illustrious  knights,  while  others  lay  disabled  in  their  beds. 
Among  the  latter  was  De  Monti,  admiral  of  the  order,  now  lying  seriously  ill 
of  wounds  received  in  the  defence  of  St.  Michael,  of  which  he  was  commander. 
Among  the  deaths  was  one  which  came  home  to  the  bosom  of  La  Valette.  A 
young  cavalier,  his  nephew,  had  engaged  in  a  perilous  enterprise  with  a  com- 
rade of  his  own  age.  The  handsome  person  ana  gilded  armour  of  the  younger 
La  Valette  made  him  a  fatal  mark  for  the  enemy  ;28  and  he  fell,  together  with 
hi.s  friend,  in  the  ditch  before  the  bastion,  under  a  shower  of  Turkish  bullets. 
An  obstinate  struggle  succeeded  between  Christians  and  Turks  for  the  bodies 

M  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol  iii.  p.  24.  p.  83,  et  seq.,— Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib. 

*•  Vertot  speaks  of  this  last  attack  as  having  vi.  cap.  27,— Campana,  Vita  di  Filippo  Secon- 

been  made  on  the  eighteenth  of  August.     His  do,  torn.  ii.  p.  16, — Leti,  Vita  di  Filippo  1L, 

chronology  may  be  corrected  by  that  of  I'.albi,  torn.  i.  p.  450. 

whose  narrative,  taking  the  form  of  a  diary,  in  *'  "  Y  sino  solenne  como  en  esta  religion  se 

which  the  transactions  of  each  day  are  sepa-  suele  hazer,  alomenos  cotrita  a  lo  que  las  la- 

rately  noted,  bears  the  stamp  of  much  greater  grimas  de  muclios  hombrps  y  mugeres  davan 

accuracy.     Balbi  gives  the  seventh  of  August  sefial."     Balbi,  Verdadera  Helacion,  fol.  94. 

as  the  date. — For  the    preceding  pages  see  *•  "  Y  como  el  comendador  era  hombre  de 

Ualbi,  Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.  89-93, — Ver-  linda  disposicion,  y  armado  de  unas  arnias 

tot.  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  iii.  pp.  18-24, —  doradas  y  ricas,  los  turcos  tiraron  todos  a  el." 

Calderon.  Gloriosa  Dcfensa  de  Malta, pp.  146-  Ibid.,  fol.  76. 
150, — De  Thou,  llistoire  uuiverselle,  torn.  v. 


CONSTANCY  OF  LA  VALETTE.  429 

of  the  slain.  The  Christians  were  victorious  ;  and  La  Valette  had  the  melan- 
choly satisfaction  of  rendering  the  last  offices  to  the  remains  of  his  gallant 
kinsman.  The  brethren  would  have  condoled  with  him  on  his  loss,  But  his 
generous  nature  shrank  from  the  indulgence  of  a  selfish  sorrow.  "  All  are 
alike  dear  to  me,"  he  said  ;  "  all  of  you  I  look  on  as  my  children.  I  mourn 
for  Polastra  "  (the  friend  of  the  young  Valette)  "  as  I  do  for  my  own  nephew. 
And,  after  all,  it  matters  little.  They  have  gone  before  us  but  for  a  short 
time."" 

It  was  indeed  no  season  for  the  indulgence  of  private  sorrows,  when  those 
of  a  public  nature  pressed  so  heavily  on  the  heart.  Each  day  the  condition  of 
the  besieged  was  becoming  more  critical.  The  tottering  defences  both  of  II 
Borgo  and  La  Sangle  were  wasting  away  under  the  remorseless  batteries  of 
the  besiegers.  Great  numbers,  not  merely  of  the  knights  and  the  soldiers,  but 
of  the  inhabitants,  had  been  slain.  The  women  of  the  place  had  shown, 
throughout  the  whole  siege,  the  same  heroic  spirit  as  the  men.  They  not  only 
discharged  the  usual  feminine  duties  of  tending  and  relieving  the  sick,  but 
they  were  often  present  in  the  battle,  supplying  the  garrison  with  refresh- 
ments, or  carrying  the  ammunition,  or  removing  the  wounded  to  the  hospital. 
Thus  sharing  in  the  dangers  of  their  husbands  and  fathers,  they  shared  too  in 
their  fate.  Many  perished  by  the  enemy's  fire  ;  and  the  dead  bodies  of  women 
lay  mingled  among  those  of  the  men,  on  the  ramparts  and  in  the  streets.1* 
The  hospitals  were  filled  with  the  sick  and  wounded,  though  fortunately  no 
epidemic  had  as  yet  broken  out  to  swell  the  bills  of  mortality.  Those  of  the 
garrison  who  were  still  in  a  condition  to  do  their  duty  were  worn  by  long  vigils 
and  excessive  toil.  To  fight  by  day,  to  raise  intrenchments  or  to  repair  the 
crumbling  works  by  night,  was  the  hard  duty  of  the  soldier.  Brief  was  the 
respite  allowed  him  for  repose,— a  repose  to  be  broken  at  any  moment  by 
the  sound  of  the  alarm-bell,  and  to  be  obtained  only  amidst  so  wild  an  uproar 
that  it  seemed,  in  the  homely  language  of  the  veteran  so  often  quoted,  "as  if 
the  world  were  coming  to  an  end.  " 

Happily,  through  the  provident  care  of  the  grand  master,  there  was  still  a 
store  of  provisions  in  the  magazines.  But  the  ammunition  was  already  getting 
low.  Yet  the  resolution  of  the  besieged  did  not  fail  them.  Their  resolution 
had  doubtless  been  strengthened  by  the  cruel  conduct  of  the  Turks  at  St. 
Elmo,  which  had  shown  that  from  such  a  foe  there  was  no  mercy  to  be 
expected.  The  conviction  of  this  had  armed  the  Christians  with  the  courage 
of  despair.  On  foreign  succour  they  no  longer  relied.  Their  only  reliance  was 
where  their  chief  had  taught  them  to  place  it,— on  the  protection  of  Heaven  ; 
and  La  Valette,  we  are  assured,  went  every  day  during  the  siege  to  the  church 
of  St.  Lawrence,  and  there  solemnly  invoked  that  protection  for  the  brave 
men  who,  alone  and  unaided,  were  thus  fighting  the  battles  of  the  Faith.1* 

The  forlorn  condition  of  the  defences  led,  at  length,  the  council  of  Grand 
Crosses,  after  much  deliberation,  to  recommend  to  La  Valette  to  abandon  II 
Borgo  and  to  withdraw  with  the  troops  and  the  inhabitants  into  the  castle  of 
St.  Angelo.  The  grand  master  saw  at  once  the  disastrous  consequences  of 
guch  a  step,  and  he  rejected  it  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  To  withdraw 
into  the  castle,  he  said,  would  be  to  give  up  all  communication  with  St.  Michael, 
and  to  abandon  its  brave  garrison  to  their  fate.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
town  would  fare  no  better.  The  cistern  which  supplied  8t  Angelo  with  water 

"  Ralbl,  Venltulere  !:•  lacion,  ubl  »upra. —  **  "  Mucha*  vexes aolo  se  j-va  a  MH  Lorenzo. 

Vertot,  Knigbta  of  Malta,  vol.  iii.  p.  14.  y  alll  en  su  •partamiento  hazla  RUB  oracione*. 

*•  Balbi,  VerdaJera  Relation,  fol.  66,  St.  V   enest*  exercicio  ee  occupava  quaodo  M 

"  Ibid  ,  fol.  78.  tenla  algim  lociego."     Ibid.,  fol.  84. 


430  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

would  be  wholly  inadequate  to  the  demands  of  such  a  multitude  ;  and  they 
would  soon  be  reduced  to  extremity.  "  No,  my  brethren,"  he  concluded  ; 
"  here  we  must  make  our  stand  ;  and  here  we  must  die,  if  we  cannot  maintain 
ourselves  against  the  infidel." 33 

He  would  not  even  consent  to  have  the  sacred  relics,  or  the  archives  of  the 
order,  removed  thither,  as  to  a  place  of  greater  security.  It  would  serve  to 
discourage  the  soldiers,  by  leading  them  to  suppose  that  he  distrusted  their 
power  of  maintaining  the  town  against  the  enemy.  On  the  contrary,  he  caused 
a  bridge  communicating  with  the  castle  to  be  broken  down,  after  calling  off 
the  greater  part  of  the  garrison  to  assist  in  the  defence  of  II  Borgo.  By  these 
measures  he  proclaimed  his  unalterable  determination  to  maintain  the  town  to 
the  last,  and,  if  need  were,  to  die  in  its  defence.34 


CHAPTER  V. 

SIEGE     OF     MALTA. 

The  Turks  dispirited— Reinforcement  from  Sicily— Siege  raised — Mustapha  defeated— Re- 
joicings of  the  Christians — Mortification  of  Solyman — Review  of  the  Siege — subsequent 
History  of  La  V alette. 

1565. 

WHILE  the  affairs  of  the  besieged  wore  the  gloomy  aspect  depicted  in  the  last 
chapter,  those  of  the  besiegers  were  not  much  better.  More  than  half  of  their 
original  foice  had  perished.  To  the  bloody  roll  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  the 
numerous  assaults  were  now  to  be  added  the  daily  victims  of  pestilence.  In 
consequence  of  the  great  heat,  exposure,  and  bad  food,  a  dysentery  had  broken 
out  in  the  Moslem  army  and  was  now  sweeping  off'  its  hundreds  in  a  day. 
Both  ammunition  and  provisions  were  running  low.  Ships  bringing  supplies 
were  constantly  intercepted  by  the  Sicilian  cruisers.  Many  of  the  heavy  guns 
were  so  much  damaged  by  the  fire  of  the  besieged  as  to  require  to  be  with- 
drawn and  sent  on  board  the  fleet, — an  operation  performed  with  a  silence 
that  contrasted  strongly  with  the  noisy  shouts  with  which  the  batteries  had 
been  raised.1  But  the^e  movements  could  not  be  conducted  so  silently  as  to 
escape  the  notice  of  the  garrison,  whose  spirits  were  much  revived  by  the 
reports  daily  brought  in  by  deserters  of  the  conditio'h  of  the  enemy. 

Mustapha  chafed  not  a  little  under  the  long-protracted  resistance  of  the 
besieged.  He  looked  with  apprehension  to  the  consequences  of  failure  in  an 
expedition  for  which  preparations  had  been  made  on  so  magnificent  a  scale 
by  his  master  and  with  so  confident  hopes  of  success.  He  did  not  fail  to 
employ  every  expedient  for  effecting  his  object  that  the  military  science  of 
that  day — at  least  Turkish  science— could  devise.  He  ordered  movable  wooden 
towers  to  be  built,  such  as  were  used  under  the  ancient  system  of  besieging 

"  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  iii.  p.  29.  Relacion,  fol.  94.— See  also  Vertot,  Knights  of 

34  '•  Lo  qual  subido  por  el  pran  Maestre  Malta,  vol.  iii.  p.  29, — Calderon,  Gloriosa  De- 

como  aquel  que  jamas  penso  sino  tnorir  el  feusa  da  Malta,  p.  167,  etseq 
primo  por  su  religion,  y  por  quitar  toda  sospe-  '  "  Ya  seles  conocia,  que  les  faltavan  mu- 

cha  despues  de  aver  hechollevaren  fiant  Angel  chas  pie9as  que  avian  embarcado,  y  cadanoche 

todas  las  reliquias  y  cosas  de  mas  valor,  mando  se  sentia  como  las  n  tiravan,  ala  sorda  sin  los 

quitar  la  puente,  dando  f.  entender  a  todo  el  alaridos  que  davan  al   principio  quando  las 

i'  undo  qne  end  no  avia  retirar,  sino  moriren  plantaron."     Balbi,  Verdadera  Relacion,  fol. 

el  Burgo,  o  defenderlo."     Balbi,  Verdadera  101. 


REINFORCEMENT  FROM   SICILY.  431 

fortified  places,  from  which,  when  brought  near  to  the  works,  his  musketeers 
might  send  their  volleys,  into  the  town.  But  the  besieged,  sallying  forth,  set 
fire  to  his  towers  and  burned  them  to  the  ground.  He  caused  a  huge  engine 
to  be  made,  of  the  capacity  of  a  hogshead,  filled  with  combustibles,  and  then 
swung,  by  means  of  machinery,  on  the  rampart  of  the  bastion.  But  the 
garrison  succeeded  in  throwing  it  back  on  the  heads  of  the  inventors,  where  it 
exploded  with  terrible  effect.  Mustapha  ran  his  mines  under  the  Christian 
defences,  until  the  ground  was  perforated  like  a  honeycomb  and  the  garrison 
seemed  to  be  treading  on  the  crust  of  a  volcano.  La  Valette  countermined  in 
his  turn.  The  Christians,  breaking  into  the  galleries  of  the  Turks,  engaged 
them  boldly  under  ground  ;  and  sometimes  the  mine,  exploding,  buried  both 
Turk  and  Christian  under  a  heap  of  ruins. 

Baffled  on  every  point,  with  their  ranks  hourly  thinned  by  disease,  the 
Moslem  troops  grew  sullen  and  dispirited  ;  and  now  that  the  bastion  of  Castile, 
with  its  dilapidated  works,  stood  like  some  warrior  stripped  of  his  armour,  his 
defenceless  condition  inviting  attack,  they  were  in  no  heart  to  make  it.  As 
their  fire  slackened  and  their  assaults  became  fewer  and  more  feeble,  the 
confidence  of  the  Christians  was  renewed,  until  they  even  cherished  the  hope 
of  beating  off  the  enemy  without  the  long-promised  succours  from  Sicily. 
Fortunately  for  the  honour  of  Spain,  the  chivalry  of  St.  John  were  not  driven 
to  this  perilous  attempt. 

Yielding,  at  length,  to  the  solicitations  of  the  knights  and  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  army,  the  viceroy,  Don  Garcia  de  Toledo,  assembled  his  fleet  in  the 
port  of  Syracuse,  and  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  August  weighed  anchor.  The 
fleet  consisted  of  twenty-eight  galleys,  and  carried  eleven  thousand  troops, 
chiefly  Spanish  veterans,  besides  two  hundred  knights  of  the  order,  who  haa 
arrived  from  other  lands  in  time  to  witness  the  closing  scene  of  the  drama. 
There  was  also  a  good  number  of  adventurers  from  Spain,  France,  and  Italy, 
many  of  them  persons  of  rank,  and  some  of  high  military  renown,  who  had 
come  to  offer  their  services  to  the  knights  of  Malta  and  share  in  their  glorious 
defence. 

Unfortunately,  in  its  short  passage  the  fleet  encountered  a  violent  gale, 
which  did  so  much  damage  that  the  viceroy  was  compelled  to  return  to  Sicily 
and  repair  his  galleys.  He  then  put  to  sea  again,  with  better  fortune.  He 
succeeded  in  avoiding  the  notice  of  the  enemy,  part  of  whose  armament  lay 
off  the  mouth  of  the  Great  Port,  to  prevent  the  arrival  of  succours  to  the 
besieged, — and  on  the  sixth  of  September,  under  cover  of  the  evening,  entered 
the  Bay  of  Melecca,  on  the  western  side  of  the  island.* 

The  next  morning,  having  landed  his  forces,  with  their  baggage  and  mili- 
tary stores,  the  viceroy  sailed  again  for  Sicily,  to  bring  over  an  additional 
reinforcement  of  four  thousand  troops,  then  waiting  in  Messina.  He  passed 
near  enough  to  the  beleaguered  fortresses  to  be  descried  by  the  garrisons, 
whom  he  saluted  with  three  salvos  of  artillery,  that  sent  joy  into  their  hearts.* 
It  had  a  very  different  effect  on  the  l»esiegers.  They  listened  with  nervous 
credulity  to  the  exaggerated  reports  that  soon  reached  them  of  the  strength 
of  the  reinforcement  landed  in  the  island,  by  which  they  expected  to  be 
speedily  assaulted  in  their  trenches.  Without  delay,  Mustapha  made  pre- 
parations for  his  departure.  His  heavy  guns  and  camp-equipage  were  got  on 

'  lUH.i.    Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.    108,  et  torn.  II.  p.  168. 
Kcq.  —  Vertot,  Knight*  of  Malta,  vol.  ill.  p.  33.  '  "  C<>mo  niie-tr/i  armada  cMuvo  en  parte  <J 

''Bid-run.  Gloilo-a  IVfrrma  do  Malta,  pp.  la  dexrubrlamoR  claramente,  cada  galera  tiro 

172-176.— Do  Thou,  Hlstoire  unlvor'olle.  lom.  tr.-s  vrte»."     lialbi.  Verdailera  Uelaciun,  fol. 

v.  p.  88.-Cal>r»>ra,  Killpe  Spgundo,  III),   vi.  104. 
cap.  28.— Campami,  Vlu  dl  Kll*p|x>  Sccondo, 


432  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

board  the  galleys  and  smaller  vessels  lying  off  the  entrance  of  the  Great  Port, 
—and  all  as  silently  and  expeditiously  as  possible.  -  La  Valette  had  hoped 
that  some  part  of  the  Spanish  reinforcement  would  be  detached  during  the 
night  to  the  aid  of  the  garrison,  when  he  proposed  to  sally  on  the  enemy,  and, 
if  nothing  better  came  of  it,  to  get  possession  of  their  cannon,  so  much  needed 
for  his  own  fortifications.  But  no  such  aid  arrived  ;  and  through  the  long 
night  he  impatiently  listened  to  the  creaking  of  the  wheels  that  bore  off  the 
artillery  to  the  ships.4 

With  the  first  light  of  morning  the  whole  Ottoman  force  was  embarked  on 
board  the  vessels,  which,  weighing  anchor,  moved  round  to  Port  Musiette,  on 
the  other  side  of  St.  Elmo,  wnere  the  Turkish  fleet,  the  greater  part  of  which 
lay  there,  was  now  busily  preparing  for  its  departure.  No  sooner  had  the 
enemy  withdrawn  than  the  besieged  poured  out  into  the  deserted  trenches. 
One  or  two  of  those  huge  pieces  of  ordnance,  which,  from  their  unwieldy  size, 
it  was  found  impossible  to  remove,  had  been  abandoned  by  the  Turks,  and 
remained  a  memorable  trophy  of  the  siege.4  The  Christians  were  not  long  in 
levelling  the  Moslem  intrenchments  ;  and  very  soon  the  flag  of  St.  John  was 
seen  cheerily  waving  in  the  breeze,  above  the  ruins  of  St.  Elmo.  The  grand 
master  now  called  his  brethren  together  to  otter  up  their  devotions  in  the 
same  church  of  St.  Lawrence  where  he  had  so  often  invoked  the  protection 
of  Heaven  during  the  siege.  "  Never  did  music  sound  sweeter  to  human 
ears,1'  exclaims  Balbi,  "  than  when  those  bells  summoned  us  to  mass,  at  the 
same  hour  at  which,  for  three  months  past,  they  had  sounded  the  alarm 
against  the  enemy." 8  A  procession  was  formed  of  all  the  members  of  the 
order,  the  soldiers,  and  the  citizens.  The  services  were  performed  with  greater 
solemnity,  as  well  as  pomp,  than  could  be  observed  in  the  hurry  and  tumult 
of  the  siege ;  and,  with  overflowing  hearts,  the  multitude  joined  in  the  Te 
Deum,  and  offered  up  thanks  to  the  Almighty  and  the  Blessed  Virgin  for 
their  deliverance  from  their  enemies.7  It  was  the  eighth  of  September,  the 
day  of  the  Nativity  of  the  Virgin, — a  memorable  day  in  the  annals  of  Malta, 
and  still  observed  by  the  inhabitants  as  their  most  glorious  anniversary. 

Hardly  had  the  Turkish  galleys,  with  Mustapha  on  board,  joined  the  great 
body  of  the  fleet  in  Port  Musiette,  than  that  commander  received  such 
intelligence  as  convinced  him  that  the  report  of  the  Spanish  numbers  had 
been  greatly  exaggerated.  He  felt  that  he  had  acted  precipitately,  thug 
without  a  blow  to  abandon  the  field  to  an  enemy  his  inferior  in  strength. 
His  head  may  well  have  trembled  on  his  shoulders,  as  he  thought  of  return- 
ing thus  dishonoured  to  the  presence  of  his  indignant  master.  Paili,  it  is 
said,  was  not  displeased  at  the  mortification  of  his  rival.  The  want  of  concert 
between  them  had  in  more  than  one  instance  interfered  with  the  success  of 
their  operations.  It  was  now,  however,  agreed  that  Mustapha  should  dis- 

*  "En  el  ntirar  su  artilleria,  tan  callada-        siege  should  have  found  a  place  among  the 
mente  que  no  se  sentia  eino  el  cbillido  de  las        national  relics. 

ruedas,  y  Dios  sabe  1»  que  al  gran  Maeetre  •  "  Yo  no  cr»o  qne  mngica  jamas  consolasse 

pesava,  porque  siempre  tuvo  esperanca  de  bumanos  sentidos,  conio  a  nosotros  console  el 

ganarle  parte  del  la,  si  el  poccorro  se  descu-  son  de  nuestras  campanas,  aloe  ocho,  dia  dela 

briera."    Balbi,  Verdadera  Relation,  fol.  105.  Natividad  de  nuestia  sefiora.     Porque  el  gran 

*  The  armoury  in  the  government  palace  of  Maestre  las  bizo  tocar  todas  ala  bora  que  PC 
Valetta  still  contains  a  quantity  of  weapons,  Folia  tocar  al  anna,  y  avia  tres  meses  que  no 
sabres,  arquebuses,  steel  bows,  and  the  like,  las  aviamos  oydo  Pino  para  arma."      Balbi, 
taken  at    different  times  from    the    Turks.  Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.  105. 

Among  others  is  a  cannon  of  singular  work-  '  "  Ksta  mafiana  pues  tocaron  la  missa,  la 

manship,  but  very  inferior  in  size  to  the  two  cual  se  canto  muy  de  mafiann,  y  en  pontifical, 

pieces  of  ordnance  mentioned   in   the  text.  muy  solemnemente,  dando  gracias  ;i  nuotro 

(See  Bigelow's  Travels  in  Malta  and  Sicily,  p.  sefior  Dios,  y  a  su  bendita  madre  por  las  gra- 

226.)     Those  glorious  trophies  ot  the  great  cias  que  nos  avian  becbo."     Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 


MUSTAPHA  DEFEATED.  433 

embark,  with  such  of  the  troops  as  were  in  fighting-order,  to  give  battle  to 
the  Spaniards.  Piali,  meanwhile,  would  quit  the  port,  which  lay  exposed  to 
St.  Elmo, — now  in  his  enemy's  hands, — and  anchor  farther  west,  in  the  roads 
of  St.  Paul. 

The  troops  from  Sicily,  during  this  time,  had  advanced  into  the  interior,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  (Jitta  Notable, — or,  as  it  is  now  called,  C'itta  Vecchiu. 
They  were  commanded  by  Ascanio  de  la  Coriia,  an  officer  who  had  gained  a 
name  in  the  Italian  wars.  Alvaro  de  Sande  was  second  in  command,  the 
same  captain  who  made  so  heroic  a  defence  in  the  isle  of  Gelves  against  the 
Turks.  The  chivalrous  daring  of  the  latter  officer  was  well  controlled  by 
the  circumspection  of  the  former. 

La  Y alette,  who  kept  a  vigilant  eye  on  the  movements  of  the  Turks,  was 
careful  to  advise  Don  Ascanio  that  they  had  again  disembarked,  and  were  on 
their  march  against  him.  The  Spanish  general  took  up  a  strong  position  on 
an  eminence  the  approach  to  which  was  rugged  and  difficult  in  the  extreme. 
Thus  secured,  the  prudent  chief  proposed  to  await  the  assault  of  the  Moslems. 
But  the  knights  of  St  John  who  had  accompanied  the  Sicilian  succours, 
eager  for  vengeance  on  the  hated  enemies  of  their  order,  called  loudly  to  be 
lea  against  the  infidel.  In  this  they  were  joined  by  the  fiery  De  Sande  and 
the  greater  part  of  the  troops.  When  the  Moslem  banners,  therefore,  came 
in  sight,  and  the  dense  columns  of  the  enemy  were  seen  advancing  across  the 
country,  the  impatience  of  the  Christians  was  not  to  be  restrained.  The 
voices  of  the  officers  were  unheeded.  Don  Ascanio  saw  it  was  not  wise  to 
balk  this  temper  of  the  troops.  They  were  hastily  formed  in  order  of  battle, 
and  then,  like  a  mountain-torrent,  descended  swiftly  against  the  foe. 

On  their  left  was  a  hill,  crowned  by  a  small  tower  that  commanded  the 
plain.  The  Turks  had  succeeded  in  getting  possession  of  this  work.  A  de- 
tachment of  Spaniards  scaled  the  eminence,  attacked  the  Turks,  and,  after 
a  short  struggle,  carried  the  fort.  Meanwhile,  the  Maltese  chivalry,  with 
Sande  and  the  great  body  of  the  army,  fell  with  fury  on  the  front  and  flanks 
of  the  enemy.  The  Turkish  soldiers,  disgusted  by  the  long  and  disastrous 
siege,  had  embarked  with  great  alacrity ;  and  they  had  not  repressed  their 
murmurs  of  discontent  when  they  were  again  made  to  land  and  renew  the 
conflict.  Sullen  and  disheartened,  they  were  in  no  condition  to  receive  the 
shock  of  the  Spaniards.  Many  were  borne  down  by  it  at  once,  their  ranks 
were  broken,  and  their  whole  l»ody  was  thrown  into  disarray.  Some  few 
endeavoured  to  make  head  against  their  assailants.  Most  thought  only  of 
securing  safety  by  flight  The  knights  followed  close  on  the  fugitives.  Now 
was  the  hour  of  vengeance.  No  quarter  was  given.  Their  swords  were  red- 
dened with  the  blood  of  the  infidel.1 

Mustapha,  careless  of  his  own  life,  made  the  most  intrepid  efforts  to  save 
his  men.  He  was  ever  in  the  hottest  of  the  action.  Twice  he  was  unhorsed, 
and  had  nearly  fallen  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  At  length,  rallying  a 
body  of  musketeers,  he  threw  himself  into  the  rear,  to  cover  the  retreat  of  the 
army.  Facing  about,  he  sent  such  a  well-directed  volley  among  his  pursuers, 
who  were  coming  on  in  disorder,  that  they  were  compelled  to  halt.  Don 
Alvaro's  horse  was  slain  under  him.  Several  knights  were  wounded  or  brought 
to  the  ground.  But,  as  those  in  the  rear  came  up,  Mustapha  was  obliged  to 
give  way,  and  was  soon  swept  along  with  the  tide  of  battle  in  the  direction  of 
the  port  of  St.  Paul,  where  the  fleet  was  at  anchor.  Boats  were  in  readiness 
to  receive  the  troops ;  and  a  line  of  shallops,  filled  with  arquebusiers,  was 

•  "No  dcxando  de  ppletr  «quel  dU,  y  en  ungrenUr  muy  blen  «tu  wpacUa."     Balbl,  Ver- 
(Uder*  Kcltciun,  fol.  119. 

2  r 


434  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

drawn  up  alongside  of  them,  to  cover  the  embarkation.  But  the  Spaniards, 
hurried  forward,  by  the  heat  of  the  pursuit,  waded  up  to  their  girdles  into  the 
sea,  and  maintained  an  incessant  fire  on  the  fugitives,  many  of  whom  fell 
under  it,  while  others,  vainly  endeavouring  to  swim  to  the  ships,  perished  in 
the  waves  ;  and  their  bodies,  tossed  upon  the  sands,  continued  for  many  a 
day  to  poison  the  atmosphere.9  This  was  the  last  effort  of  Mustapha  ;  and 
the  Turkish  admiral,  gathering  together  the  wreck  of  his  forces,  again 
weighed  anchor,  and,  spreading  his  sails  to  the  breeze,  steered  his  course  for 
the  Levant.10 

The  principal  officers  of  the  Spanish  army,  together  with  the  knights,  then 
crossed  over  to  II  Borgo.11  They  met  there  with  a  cordial  welcome  ;  but  the 
knights,  as  they  embraced  their  comrades,  were  greatly  shocked  by  their 
appearance, — their  wan  and  care-worn  countenances,  their  emaciated  figures, 
their  long  and  matted  hair,  and  their  squalid  attire.  Many  were  disfigured 
by  honourable  scars ;  some  were  miserably  maimed ;  others  wore  bandages 
over  wounds  not  yet  healed.  It  was  a  piteous  sight,  too  plainly  intimating 
the  extremity  of  suffering  to  which  they  had  been  reduced ;  and  as  the  knights 
gazed  on  their  brethren,  and  called  to  mind  the  friends  they  had  lost,  their 
hearts  were  filled  with  unspeakable  anguish.12 

On  the  fourteenth  of  September,  the  viceroy  reappeared  with  the  fleet, 
bearing  the  remainder  of  the  reinforcement  from  Sicily.  The  admiral's  pennant 
displayed  a  cross,  intimating  that  it  was  a  holy  war  in  which  they  were 
engaged.18  As  the  squadron  came  proudly  up  the  Great  Port,  with  pennons 
and  streamers  gayly  flying  from  its  masts,  it  was  welcomed  by  salvos  of 
artillery  from  the  fortresses  and  bastions  around  ;  and  the  rocky  shores,  which 
had  so  long  reverberated  only  with  the  din  of  war,  now  echoed  to  the  sounds 
of  jubilee. 

The  grand  master  came  down  to  the  landing-place  below  St.  Angelo,  to 
receive  the  viceroy,  with  the  nobles  and  cavaliers  who  followed  in  his  train. 
They  had  come  too  late  to  share  the  dangers  of  the  besieged,  but  not  too  late 
to  partake  their  triumph.  They  were  courteously  conducted  by  La  Valette, 
across  the  scene  of  desolation,  to  his  own  palace,  which,  though  in  an  exposed 
quarter  of  the  town,  had  so  far  escaped  as  to  be  still  habitable.  As  the 
strangers  gazed  on  the  remains  of  the  fortifications,  nearly  levelled  to  the 
ground,  they  marvelled  that  the  shadowy  forms  which  they  saw  gliding  among 
the  ruins  could  have  so  long  held  out  against  the  Moslem  armies.  Well  had 
they  earned  for  their  city  the  title  of  Vittoriosa,  "  The  Victorious,"  which, 
supplanting  that  of  II  Borgo,  still  commemorates  its  defence  against  the 
infidel. 

La  Valette  had  provided  an  entertainment  for  his  illustrious  guests,  as  good 

•  "Lo  qual  se  vio  claramente  dende  a  dos  o  Miniana,  Hist,  de  Espana,  p.  353, — Campana, 

tres  dias  porque  los  cuerpos  que  se  avian  abo-  Vita  di   Filippo  Secondo,  torn.  ii.  p.    160, — 

gado  subieron  enciruadel  agua,  los  quales  eran  Herrera,  Historia  general,  torn.  i.  p.  591, — 

tantos  que  parecian  mas  de  tres  mil,  y  avia  Calderon,  Gloriosa  Defensa  de  Malta,  p.  1KO, 

tanto  hedor  en  todo  aquello  que  no  se  podia  et  seq. 

hombre  llegar  ala  cala."  Balbi,  Verdadera  "  "  Se  vlnieron  al  Burgo,  tanto  por  ver  la 
Relacion,  fol.  120. — As  an  offset  against  the  persona  del  gran  Maestre  tan  dichosa  y  vale- 
three-  thousand  of  the  enemy  who  thus  perished  rosa,  como  por  ver  la  grandissima  disformidad 
by  fire  and  water,  the  chronicler  gives  us  four  y  llaneza  do  nuestras  baterias."  Balbi,  V'er- 
Christians  slain  in  the  fight,  and  four  smo-  dadera  Relacion,  fol.  121. 
thered  from  excessive  heat  in  their  armour  !  "  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  iii.  p.  39. 

10  For  the  preceding  pages  see  Balbi  (Ver-  '3  "  Al  entrar  del  qual  despues  que  la  Real 

dadera  Relacion,  fol.  117-121),  who  contrived  capitana  uvo  puesto  BUS  estandartes  los  pusie- 

to  be  present  in   the    action ;    also    Vertot,  ron  todas  las  demas,  y  muy  ricos,  la  Real 

Knights  of  Malta,  vol.   iii.   pp.  35-37, — De  traya  enla  flama  un  crucifixo  muy  devoto." 

Thou,  Histoire  universelle,  torn.  v.  p.  89, —  Balbi,  Verdadera  Relacion,  fol.  122. 


REVIEW  OF  THE  SIEGE.  435 

as  his  limited  resources  would  allow ;  but  it  is  said  that  the  banquet  was 
reinforced  by  a  contribution  from  the  viceroy's  own  stores.14  On  the  departure 
of  the  Spaniards  he  showed  his  gratitude,  while  he  indulged  his  munificent 
spirit,  by  bestowing  handsome  presents  on  the  captains  and  a  liberal  largess 
of  money  on  the  so  diers.1* 

On  his  way,  the  viceroy  had  discovered  the  Ottoman  fleet  formed  in  compact 
order  and  standing  under  press  of  sail  towards  the  east.  He  was  too  far 
inferior  in  strength  to  care  to  intercept  its  course  ; ls  and  the  squadnXi  reached 
in  safety  the  port  of  Constantinople.  Solyman  had  already  received  despatches 
preparing  him  for  the  return  of  the  fleet  and  the  failure  of  the  expedition.  It 
threw  him  into  one  of  those  paroxysms  of  ungovernable  passion  to  which  the 
old  sultan  seems  to  have  been  somewhat  addicted  in  the  latter  years  of  his 
life.  With  impotent  fury,  he  stamped  on  the  letters,  it  is  said,  and,  protesting 
that  there  was  none  of  his  officers  whom  he  could  trust,  he  swore  to  lead  an 
expedition  against  Malta  the  coming  year  and  put  every  man  in  the  island 
to  the  sword ! "  He  had  the  magnanimity,  however,  not  to  wreak  his 
vengeance  on  the  unfortunate  commanders.  The  less  to  attract  public  notice, 
he  caused  the  fleet  bearing  the  shattered  remains  of  the  army  to  come  into 
port  in  the  night-time  ;  thus  affording  a  contrast  sufficiently  striking  to  the 
spectacle  presented  by  the  brilliant  armament  which  a  few  months  before  had 
sailed  from  the  Golden  Horn  amidst  the  joyous  acclamations  of  the  multitude. 

The  arms  of  Solyman  the  Second,  during  his  long  and  glorious  reign,  met 
with  no  reverse  so  humiliating  as  his  failure  in  the  siege  of  Malta.  To  say 
nothing  of  the  cost  of  the  maritime  preparations,  the  waste  of  life  was  pro- 
digious, amounting  to  more  than  thirty  thousand  men,  Moors  included,  and 
comprehending  the  very  best  troops  in  the  empire.  This  was  a  loss  of  nearly 
three-fourths  of  the  original  force  of  the  besieging  army. — an  almost  incredible 
amount,  showing  that  pestilence  had  been  as  actively  at  work  as  the  sword  of 
the  enemy.1* 

Yet  the  loss  in  this  siecce  fell  most  grievously  on  the  Christians.  Full  two 
hundred  knights,  twenty-five  hundred  soldiers,  and  more  than  seven  thousand 
inhabitants, — men,  women,  and  children, — are  said  to  have  perished."  The 
defences  of  the  island  were  razed  to  the  ground.  The  towns  were  in  ruins, 
the  villages  burnt,  the  green  harvests  cut  down  before  they  had  time  to  ripen. 
The  fiery  track  of  war  was  over  every  part  of  Malta.  Well  might  the  simple 
inhabitants  me  the  hour  when  the  Knights  of  St.  John  first  set  foot  upon 
their  shores.  The  military  stores  were  exhausted,  the  granaries  empty  ;  the 
treasury  was  at  the  lowest  ebb.  The  members  of  the  order  had  now  to  begin 

"  ••  Fueronse  para  Falacio,  adonde  dio  el  thousand  (Historia  general,   torn.  1.   p.  90)' 

gran  Mat-stre  a  todos  inuy  realmi-nte  de  cenar.  The  whole  Moslem  force,  according  to  Italbl, 

porque  ya  et   governador  del  (i»zo   le  avla  was  forty-eight  thousand,  exclusive  of  seanvn. 

cmblado   mucboa   refrexcos,  y  don   Ciarna  y  Of  these  about  thirty  thousand  were  Turks, 

todos  Ion  capitanes  del  armada  le  prescntaron  The   remainder  belonged  to  the  contingents 

de  la  tnistna  mantra."     Balbi,  Vordadera  Ke-  furnished  by  Dragut  and  Hassem.     Cunt.  fol. 

lacion.  fol.  122  25  and  121. 

"  Balbi   expresses   his  satisfaction   at  the  "  Halbl.    Verdsdera  Reladon,    fol.    128.— 

good  cheer,  declaring  that  tlie  dainti'-x  hrouxlit  Balbi   ttives    a   list  of  all   the   knights    who 

by  the  viceroy,  however  costly,  seemed  >  ln-ap  perished  In  the  siege.    Cabrera  makes  a  oinil- 

to  men  who  had  been  paying  two  ducatx  f»r  a  lar  estimate  of   the   Christian   loss    (Kllipe 

fowl,  ami  a  real  and  a  half  for  an  egg.     Ibid.,  Begun  o,  lib.  vi.  cap.  2«X     De  Thou  rat-'n  It 

ubi  supra.  somewhat  lower  (Hist.  univer»elle  torn.  v.  p. 

"•  Herrera.  Historia  general,  vol.  I.  p.  592.  »o);  and  Vrrtot  low.  rstill  (Knights  of  Malta. 

"  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malt*,  vol.  III.  p  3*.  vol.  III.  p.  iw).     Yet  Kalbl  may  be  thought  to 

"Ililhi,    Verdudera   lielaclon,   fol.    12. —  show  too  little  disposition,  on  other  occa-ions, 

De  Thou  reduces  the   mortality  to  twenty  to  exaggerate  the  loss  of  his  own  side,  for  us 

thousand  (Hist,  unlvcrxelle.  torn.  v.  p.  >92).  to  »u»pect  him  of  exaggeration  here. 
Herrera,  on  the  other  hand,  raises  it  to  forty 


436  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

the  work  of  constructing  their  fortunes  over  again.  But  still  they  enjoyed  the 
glory  of  victory.  They  had  the  proud  consciousness  of  having  battled,  with 
their  own  gooa  swords,  the  whole  strength  of  the  Ottoman  empire.  The  same 
invincible  spirit  still  glowed  in  their  bosoms,  and  they  looked  forward  with 
unshaken  confidence  to  the  future. 

Such  were  the  results  of  this  memorable  siege, — one  of  the  most  memorable 
sieges,  considering  the  scale  of  the  preparations,  the  amount  of  the  forces,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  defence,  which  are  recorded  on  the  pages  of  history.  It  would 
not  be  easy,  even  for  a  military  man,  after  the  lapse  of  three  centuries,  to 
criticise  with  any  degree  of  confidence  the  course  pursued  by  the  combatants, 
so  as  to  determine  to  what  causes  may  be  referred  the  failure  of  the  besiegers. 
One  obvious  fault,  and  of  the  greatest  moment,  was  that  already  noticed,  of 
not  immediately  cutting  off'  the  communications  with  St.  Elmo,  by  which 
supplies  were  constantly  thrown  into  that  fortress  from  the  opposite  side  of 
the  harbour.  Another,  similar  in  its  nature,  was,  that,  with  so  powerful  a 
navy  as  the  Turks  had  at  their  command,  they  should  have  allowed  communi- 
cations to  be  maintained  by  the  besieged  with  Sicily,  and  reinforcements  thus 
introduced  into  the  island.  We  find  Mustapha  and  Piali  throwing  the  blame 
of  this  mutually  on  each  other,  especially  in  the  case  of  Cardona,  whose  most 
seasonable  succours  might  easily  have  been  intercepted,  either  by  land  or  by 
sea,  with  proper  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  Turkish  commanders.  A  serious 
impediment  in  the  way  of  the  besiegers  was  the  impossibility  of  forcing  a 
subsistence  for  the  troops  from  a  barren  spot  like  Malta,  and  the  extreme 
difficulty  of  obtaining  supplies  from  other  quarters,  when  so  easily  intercepted 
by  the  enemy's  cruisers.  Yet  the  Turkish  galleys  lying  idle  in  the  western 
port  might  have  furnished  a  ready  convoy,  one  might  suppose,  for  transports 
bringing  provisions  from  the  Barbary  coast.  But  we  find  no  such  thing 
attempted^  To  all  these  causes  of  failure  must  be  added  the  epidemic,  which, 
generated  under  the  tropical  heats  of  a  Maltese  summer,  spread  like  a  murrain 
through  the  camp  of  the  besiegers,  sweeping  them  off'  by  thousands. 

It  operated  well  for  the  besieged  that  the  great  advance  made  in  the  science 
of  fortification  was  such,  in  the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  as  in  a 
great  degree  to  counterbalance  the  advantages  secured  to  the  besiegers  by  the 
use  of  artillery, — especially  such  clumsy  artfllery,  and  so  awkwardly  served,  as 
that  of  the  Turks.  But  these  advantages  would  have  proved  of  little  worth 
had  it  not  been  for  the  character  of  the  men  who  were  to  profit  by  them.  It 
was  the  character  of  the  defenders  that  constituted  the  real  strength  of  the 
defence.  This  was  the  true  bulwark  that  resisted  every  effort  of  the  Ottoman 
arms  when  all  outward  defences  were  swept  away.  Every  knight  was  animated 
by  a  sentiment  of  devotion  to  his  order,  and  that  hatred  to  the  infidel  in  which 
he  had  been  nursed  from  his  cradle  and  which  had  become  a  part  of  his 
existence.  These  sentiments  he  had  happily  succeeded  in  communicating  to 
his  followers,  and  even  to  the  people  of  the  island.  Thus  impelled  by  an 
unswerving  principle  of  conduct,  the  whole  body  exhibited  that  unity  and 
promptness  of  action  which  belongs  to  an  individual.  From  the  first  hour  of 
the  siege  to  the  last,  all  idea  of  listening  to  terms  from  the  enemy  was  rejected. 
Every  man  was  prepared  to  die  rather  than  surrender.  One  exception  only 
occurred, — that  of  a  private  soldier  in  La  Sangle,  who,  denying  the  possibility 
of  holding  out  against  the  Turks,  insisted  on  the  necessity  o?  accepting  the 
terms  offered  to  the  garrison.  The  example  of  his  cowardice  might  have 
proved  contagious ;  and  the  wretched  man  expiated  his  offence  on  the  gallows.29 

"•  "En  todoeste  sitfo  nose  a  justiciado  sine  Melchior  de  Robles  :  porqne  dixo  publica- 
un  solo  Italiano  Senes,  el  qualmando  justickr  meate  estando  en  el  mayur  aprieto,  que  mas 


REVIEW  OF  THE  SIEGE.  437 

Above  all,  the  strength  of  the  besieged  lay  in  the  character  of  their  chief. 
La  Valette  was  one  of  those  rare  men  whom  Providence  seems  to  raise  up  for 
special  occasions,  so  wonderfully  are  their  peculiar  qualities  suited  to  the 
emergency.  To  that  attachment  to  his  order  which  he  had  in  common  with 
his  brethren,  he  united  a  strong  religious  sentiment,  sincere  and  self -sacrificing, 
which  shone  through  every  act  of  his  life.  This  gave  him  an  absolute  ascen- 
dency over  his  followers,  which  he  had  the  capacity  to  turn  to  full  account.  He 
possessed  many  of  the  requisites  for  success  in  action  ;  great  experience,  a 
quick  eye,  a  cool  judgment.  To  these  was  united  a  fixedness  of  purpose  not 
to  be  shaken  by  menace  or  entreaty,  and  which  was  only  to  be  redeemed  from 
the  imputation  of  obstinacy  by  the  extraordinary  character  of  the  circum- 
stances in  which  he  was  placed.  The  reader  will  recall  a  memorable  example, 
when  La  Valette  insisted  on  defending  St.  Elmo  to  the  last,  in  defiance  not 
only  of  the  remonstrance,  but  the  resistance,  of  its  garrison.  Another  equally 
pertinent  is  his  refusal,  though  in  opposition  to  his  council,  to  abandon  the 
town  and  retire  to  St.  Angelo.  One  can  hardly  doubt  that  on  his  decision,  in 
both  these  cases,  rested  the  fate  of  Malta. 

La  Valette  was  of  a  serious  turn,  and,  as  it  would  seem,  with  a  tendency  to 
sadness  in  his  temperament.  In  the  portraits  that  remain  of  him,  his  noble 
features  are  touched  with  a  shade  of  melancholy,  which,  taken  in  connection 
with  his  history,  greatly  heightens  the  interest  of  their  expression.  His  was 
not  the  buoyant  temper,  the  flow  of  animal  spirits,  which  carries  a  man  over 
every  obstacle  in  his  way.  Yet  he  could  comfort  the  sick  and  cheer  the  de- 


foreign 

taught  them,  instead,  to  relv  on  the  succour  of  the  Almighty,  who  would 
never  desert  those  who  were  fighting  in  his  cause.  He  infused  into  them  the 
spirit  of  martyrs, — that  brave  spirit  which,  arming  the  soul  with  contempt  of 
death,  makes  the  weak  man  stronger  than  the  strongest. 

There  is  one  mysterious  circumstance  in  the  history  of  this  siege  which  has 
never  been  satisfactorily  exp'ained, — the  conduct  of  the  viceroy  of  Sicily. 
Most  writers  account  for  it  by  supposing  that  he  only  acted  in  obedience  to 
the  secret  instructions  of  his  master,  unwilling  to  hazard  the  safety  of  his 
fleet  by  interfering  in  behalf  of  the  knights,  unless  such  interference  became 
absolutely  necessary.  But  even  on  such  a  supposition  the  viceroy  does  not 
stand  excused  ;  for  it  was  little  less  than  a  miracle  that  the  knights  were  not 
exterminated  before  he  came  to  their  relief  ;  and  we  can  hardly  suppose  that 
an  astute,  far-sighted  prince,  like  Philip,  who  had  been  so  eager  to  make 
conquests  from  the  Moslems  in  Africa,  would  have  consented  that  the  strong- 
hold of  the  Mediterranean  should  pass  into  the  hands  of  the  Turks.  It  seems 
more  probable  that  Don  Garcia,  aware  of  the  greater  strength  of  the  Turkish 
armament,  and  oppressed  by  the  responsibility  of  his  situation  as  viceroy  of 
Sicily,  should  have  shrunk  from  the  danger  to  which  that  island  would  be  ex- 
jK>sed  by  the  destruction  of  his  fleet.  On  any  view  of  the  case,  it  is  difficult 
to  explain  a  course  so  irreconcilable  with  the  plan  of  operations  concerted  with 
the  grand  master,  and  the  promises  of  support  given  to  him  by  Don  Garcia  at 
the  Iteginning  of  the  siege. 

La  Valette,  we  are  told,  subsequently  complained  of  the  viceroy's  conduct 
to  Pius  the  Fifth  ;  and  that  pontifl  represented  the  afiair  to  the  king  of 
Spain.  Don  Garcia  had,  soon  after,  the  royal  j>ermis.sion  to  retire  from  the 

vall-Ta  que  tomarsmi*  IM  qualm  papa*  qu»        Vrrdadrra  Rvlacion.  ful.  138. 
Iu»  tunx*  nun  ofrt.-ci.in,  y  el  passage."     Bulbl. 


438  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

government  of  Sicily.  He  withdrew  to  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  where  he  passed 
the  remainder  of  his  days,  without  public  employment  of  any  kind,  and  died 
in  obscurity.21  Such  a  fate  may  not  be  thought,  after  all,  conclusive  evidence 
that  he  had  not  acted  in  obedience  to  the  private  instructions  of  his  sovereign. 

The  reader,  who  has  followed  La  Valette  through  the  siege  of  Malta,  may 
perhaps  feel  some  curiosity  to  learn  the  fate  of  this  remarkable  man.  The 
discomfiture  of  the  Turks  caused  a  great  sensation  throughout  Europe.  In 
Rome  the  tidings  were  announced  by  the  discharge  of  cannon,  illuminations, 
and  bonfires.  The  places  of  public  business  were  closed.  The  shops  were 
shut.  The  only  places  opened  were  the  churches  ;  and  thither  persons  of 
every  rank — the  pope,  the  cardinals,  and  the  people  —thronged  in  procession, 
and  joined  in  public  thanksgiving  for  the  auspicious  event.  The  rejoicing  was 
great  all  along  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  where  the  inhabitants  had  so 
severely  suffered  from  the  ravages  of  the  Turks.  The  name  of  La  Valette 
was  on  every  tongue,  as  that  of  the  true  champion  of  the  cross.  Crowned 
heads  vied  with  one  another  in  the  honours  and  compliments  which  they  paid 
him.  The  king  of  Spain  sent  him  a  present  of  a  sword  and  poniard,  the 
handles  of  which  were  of  gold  superbly  mounted  with  diamonds.  The  envoy, 
who  delivered  these  in  presence  of  the  assembled  knights,  accompanied  the 
gift  with  a  pompous  eulogy  on  La  Valette  himself,  whom  he  pronounced  the 
greatest  captain  of  the  age,  beseeching  him  to  continue  to  employ  his  sword 
in  defence  of  Christendom.  Pius  the  Fifth  sent  him — what,  considering  the 
grand  master's  position,  may  be  thought  a  singular  compliment— a  cardinal's 
hat.  La  Valette,  however,  declined  it,  on  the  ground  that  his  duties  as  a 
cardinal  would  interfere  with  those  which  devolved  on  him  as  head  of  the 
order.  Some  referred  his  refusal  to  modesty  ;  others,  with  probably  quite  as 
much  reason,  to  his  unwillingness  to  compromise  his  present  dignity  by 
accepting  a  subordinate  station." 

But  La  Valette  had  no  time  to  dally  with  idle  compliments  and  honours. 
His  little  domain  lay  in  ruins  around'  him  ;  and  his  chief  thought  now  was 
how  to  restore  its  fortunes.  The  first  year  after  the  siege,  the  knights  had 
good  reason  to  fear  a  new  invasion  of  the  Moslems  ;  and  Philip  quartered  a 
garrison  of  near  fifteen  thousand  troops  in  the  island  for  its  protection.23  But 
Solyman  fortunately  turned  his  arms  against  a  nearer  enemy,  and  died  in  the 
course  of  the  same  year,  while  carrying  on  the  war  against  Hungary.24  Selim, 
his  successor,  found  another  direction  for  his  ambition.  Thus  relieved  of 
his  enemies,  the  grand  master  was  enabled  to  devote  all  his  energies  to  the 
great  work  of  rebuilding  his  fallen  capital  and  placing  the  island  in  a  more 
perfect  state  of  defence  than  it  had  ever  been.  He  determined  on  transferring 
the  residence  of  the  order  to  the  high  land  of  Mount  Sceberras,  which  divides 
the  two  harbours  and  which  would  give  him  the  command  of  both.  His 
quick  eye  readily  discerned  those  advantages  of  the  position,  which  time  has 

21  For  this  act   of  retributive   ,ju«ti  e,  BO  under  La  Valette,  aiid  remained  for  some 

agreeable  to  the  feelings  of  the  n-ader,  I  have  time  in  Malta. 

no  other  authority  to  five  than  Vertot,  "  Vertot  tells  us  that  the  projected  ex- 
Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  iii.  p.  1-.  pedition  of  Solyman  against  Malta  was  pre- 

'"  Vertot,    Kniglits  of  At.lta,  vol.  iii.  pp.  vented    by    the    destruction    of   the    grand 

39,  40. — Calderon,  Glori  sa  Defense  de  Malta,  arsenal  of  Constantinople,  which  was  set  on 

pp.  189,  190.— De  Thou,  Hist,    universelle,  tire    by  a   secret   emissary    of   La   Valette. 

torn.  v.  p.  91.  (Knights  of  Malta,    vol.    iii.   p.   41.)      We 

"  Havia  en  la  Isla  da  Malta  quinze  mil  should  be  better  pleased  if  the  abbe  hid  given 

hombres  de  pclqji,   los  qualea  bastaran  para  his  authority  for  this  strange  story,  the  pro- 

resistir  a  qualquiera  poder  del  gran  Turco  bability  of  which  is  not  at  all  strengthened 

en  canipana  rasa."     Balbi.  Verdadera  Kela-  by  what   we    kuow  of  the  grand   masUr'a 

cion,  fol.  129.— Besides  the  Spanish  forces,  a  character., 
body  of  French   adventurers    took    service 


SUBSEQUENT  HISTORY  OF  LA  VALETTE.  439 

since  fully  proved.  Here  he  resolved  to  build  his  capital,  to  surround  it  with 
fortifications,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  enlarge  and  strengthen  those  of  St. 
Elmo. 

But  his  treasury  was  low.  He  prepared  a  plan  of  his  improvements,  which 
he  sent  to  the  different  European  princes,  requesting  their  co-operation,  and 
urging  the  importance  to  them  all  of  maintaining  Malta  as  the  oest  bulwark 
against  the  infidel.  His  plan  met  with  general  approbation.  Most  of  the 
sovereigns  responded  to  his  appeal  by  liberal  contributions, — and  among  them 
the  French  king,  notwithstanding  his  friendly  relations  with  the  sultan.  To 
these  funds  the  members  of  the  order  freely  added  whatever  each  could  raise 
by  his  own  credit.  This  amount  was  still  further  swelled  by  the  proceeds  of 
prizes  brought  into  port  by  the  Maltese  cruisers,— an  inexhaustible  source 
of  revenue. 

Funds  being  thus  provided,  the  work  went  forward  apace.  On  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  March,  1566,  the  grand  master,  clad  in  his  robes  of  ceremony,  and 
in  the  presence  of  a  vast  concourse  of  knights  and  inhabitants,  laid  the  first 
stone  of  the  new  capital.  It  was  carved  with  his  own  arms ;  and  a  Latin 
inscription  recorded  the  name  of  "  Valetta,"  which  the  city  was  to  bear  in 
honour  of  its  founder.21  More  than  eight  thousand  men  were  employed  on 
the  work ;  and  a  bull  of  Pius  the  Fifth  enjoined  that  their  labours  should  not 
be  suspended  on  fete-days.2'  It  seemed  to  be  regarded  as  a  Christian  duty  to 
provide  for  the  restoration  of  Malta.27  La  Valette  superintended  the  opera- 
tions in  person.  He  was  ever  to  be  seen  on  the  spot,  among  the  workmen. 
There  he  took  his  meals,  discussed  affairs  of  state  with  his  council,  and  even 
gave  audience  to  envoys  from  abroad.2* 

In  the  midst  of  these  quiet  occupations,  there  were  some  occurrences  which 
distracted  the  attention  and  greatly  disturbed  the  tranquillity  of  La  Valette. 
One  of  these  was  the  disorderly  conduct  of  some  of  the  younger  knights. 
Another  was  the  dispute  in  which  he  was  involved  with  the  pope,  who,  in  the 
usual  encroaching  spirit  of  the  Vatican,  had  appropriated  to  himself  the 
nomination  to  certain  benefices  belonging  to  the  order. 

These  unpleasant  afiairs  weighed  heavily  on  the  grand  master's  mind  ;  and 
he  often  sought  to  relieve  his  spirits  by  the  diversion  of  hawking,  of  which  he 
was  extremely  fond.  While  engaged  in  this  sport,  on  a  hot  day  in  July,  he 
received  a  stroke  of  the  sun.  He  was  immediately  taken  to  II  Borgo.  A 
fever  set  in  ;  and  it  soon  became  apparent  that  his  frame,  enfeebled  by  his 
unparalleled  fatigues  and  hardships,  was  rapidly  sinking  under  it  Before 
dying,  he  called  around  his  bed  some  of  the  brethren  to  whom  the  management 
of  affairs  was  elderly  committed,  and  gave  them  his  counsel  in  respect  to  the 
best  method  of  carrying  out  his  plans.  He  especially  enjoined  on  them  to 
maintain  a  spirit  of  unity  among  themselves,  if  they  would  restore  the  order 

**  It  was  common  for  the  Maltese  cities,  capital  seems  to  have  boon,  to  Rome  extent. 

after  the  Spanish  and  Italian  fashion,  to  have  formed  on  that  of  Rhodes,  though,  according 

characteristic  »pitb<-ti)  attached  to  their  name*.  to  l/>rd  Carlisle,  of  a  nior->  ornate  and 

La  Val"tte  gave  the  new  capital  the  title  of  luxuriant  character  than  It*  model :  "  1  traced 

"  I'millima," — "  roost  humble,"— Intimating  much  of  the  military  architecture  of  Rhode*, 

that  humility  was  a  virtue  of  highest  prii-e  which,  (crave  imd  severe  there,  has  here  both 

with  the  fraternity  of  Si.  John.  See  Boi-ge-  swelled  Into  trr  at  amplitude  and  blossomed 

lin.  Ancient  and  Modern  Malta,  vol.  I.  p  29.  Into  copious  efflorescence  ;  It  Is  much  the 

**  "Plus  de  hnit  mllle  ouvrlers  y  furent  same  relation  as  Henry  VII. '»  Chapel  bear* 

employe's;  et  afin  d'avancer  plus  aiscment  to  a  bit  of  Durham  Cntlvdral."  (IMary  In 

le»  traraux,  le  Pjpe  Pie  V.  conunanda  qu'on  Tin  kind  and  Greek  Witters,  p.  20(M  The 

y  travail  lit  sans  discontinues,  mfme  lesjcinrs  account  of  Malta  la  not  the  le.tst  attractive 

de  Kfte*."  llelyot.  Hist,  dcs  Ordrcs  reli-  portion  of  this  charming  work,  in  which 

gi.'iix.  Kelton's  notes  have  given  additional  value. 

•'  The  style  of  the  architecture  of  the  new  ••  Vertot,  Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  HI.  p.  42. 


440  SIEGE  OF  MALTA. 

to  its  ancient  prosperity  and  grandeur.  By  bis  testament,  he  liberated  his 
slaves,  some  fifty  in  number  ;  and  he  obtained  the  consent  of  his  brethren  to 
bequeath  a  sum  sufficient  to  endow  a  chapel  he  had  built  in  Valetta  to  com- 
memorate his  victory  over  the  infidels.  It  was  dedicated  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin  ;  and  in  this  chapel  he  desired  that  his  body  might  be  laid.  Having 
completed  these  arrangements,  he  expired  on  the  twenty-first  of  August,  1568. 

La  Valette's  dying  commands  were  punctually  executed  by  his  brethren. 
The  coffin  enclosing  nis  remains  was  placed  on  board  of  the  admiral's  galley, 
which,  with  four  others  that  escorted  it,  was  shrouded  in  black.  They  bore 
the  household  of  the  deceased,  and  the  members  of  the  order.  The  banners 
taken  by  him  in  battle  with  the  Moslems  were  suspended  from  the  sterns  of 
the  vessels,  and  trailed  through  the  water.  The  procession,  on  landing,  took 
its  way  through  the  streets  of  the  embryo  capital,  where  the  sounds  of  labour 
were  now  hushed,  to  the  chapel  of  Our  Lady  of  Victory.  The  funeral 
obsequies  were  there  performed  with  all  solemnity ;  and  the  remains  of  the 
hero  were  consigned  to  the  tomb,  amidst  the  tears  of  the  multitude,  who  had 
gathered  from  all  parts  of  the  island,  to  pay  this  sad  tribute  of  respect  to  his 
memory.29 

The  traveller  who  visits  Malta  at  the  present  day  finds  no  object  more 
interesting  than  the  stately  cathedral  of  Valetta,  still  rich  in  historical 
memorials  and  in  monuments  of  art,  of  which  even  French  rapacity  could  not 
despoil  it.  As  he  descends  into  its  crypts  and  wanders  through  its  sub- 
terranean recesses,  he  sees  the  niche  Where  still  repose  the  remains  of  La 
Valette,  surrounded  by  the  brave  chivalry  who  fought,  side  by  side  with  him, 
the  battles  of  the  Faith.  And  surely  no  more  fitting  place  could  be  found  for 
his  repose  than  the  heart  of  the  noble  capital  which  may  be  said  to  have  been 
created  by  his  genius.30 

The  Knights  of  St.  John  continued,  in  the  main,  faithful  to  the  maxims  of 
La  Valette  and  to  the  principles  of  their  institution.  For  more  than  two 
centuries  after  his  death,  their  sword  was  ever  raised  against  the  infidel. 
Their  galleys  still  returned  to  port  freighted  with  the  spoils  of  the  barbarian. 
They  steadily  continued  to  advance  in  power  and  opulence  ;  and  while  empires 
rose  and  crumbled  around  them,  this  little  brotherhood  of  warlike  monks, 
after  a  lapse  of  more  than  seven  centuries  from  its  foundation,  still  main- 
tained a  separate  and  independent  existence. 

In  the  long  perspective  of  their  annals  there  was  no  event  which  they  con- 
tinued to  hold  in  so  much  honour  as  the  defence  of  Malta  by  La  Valette. 
The  eighth  of  September — the  day  of  the  nativity  of  the  Virgin — continued 
to  the  last  to  be  celebrated  as  their  proudest  anniversary.  On  that  day  the 
whole  body  of  the  knights,  and  the  people  of  the  capital,  walked  in  solemn 
procession,  with  the  grand  master  at  their  head,  to  the  church  of  St.  John. 
A.  knight,  wearing  the  helmet  and  mailed  armour  of  the  ancient  time,  bore  on 
high  the  victorious  standard  of  the  order.  A  page  by  his  side  carried  the 
superb  sword  and  poniard  presented  by  Philip  the  Second.  As  the  procession 
passed  into  the  church,  and  the  standard  was  laid  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  it 
was  announced  by  flourishes  of  trumpets  and  by  peals  of  artillery  from  the 
fortresses.  The  services  were  performed  by  the  prior  of  St.  John's ;  and, 

**  Verti  t   Knights  of  Malta,  vol.  iil.  pp.  instruction,  in  which  the    writer,  allowing 

42-48. — Boi  -gelin,  Ancient  and  Modern  Malta,  himself  a  wider  range  than  that  of  the  fashion- 

vol.  i.  pp.  127-142.  able  tourist,  takes  a  comprehensive  survey  of 

40  An  intere-ting  description  of  this  cathe-  the  resources  of  the  countries  he  has  visited, 

dral,  \vi  11  styled  the  Westminster  Abbey  of  while  he  criticises  their  present  condition  by 

Malta,  may  be  found  In  Bigelow's  Travels  in  an  enlighu-ued  comparison  with  the  past. 
Siciiy  and  Malta  (p.   190),— a  work  full  of 


DON  CARLOS.  441 

while  the  Gospel  was  read,  the  grand  master  held  the  naked  sword  aloft,  in 
token  that  the  knights  were  ever  ready  to  do  battle  for  the  Cross.*'  When 
the  ceremony  was  concluded,  a  fine  portrait  of  La  Valette  was  exhibited  to 
the  people  ;  and  the  brethren  gazed  with  feelings  of  reverence  on  his  majestic 
lineaments,  as  on  those  of  the  saviour  of  their  order.3* 

But  all  this  is  changed.  The  Christians,  instead  of  being  banded  against 
the  Turk,  now  rally  in  his  defence.  There  are  no  longer  crusades  against  the 
infidel.  The  age  of  chivalry  has  passed.  The  objects  for  which  the  Knights 
Hospitallers  were  instituted  have  long  since  ceased  to  exist ;  and  it  was 
fitting  that  the  institution,  no  longer  needed,  should  die  with  them.  The 
knights  who  survived  the  ruin  of  their  order  became  wanderers  in  foreign  lands. 
Their  island  has  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  stranger;  and  the  flag  of 
England  now  waves  from  the  ramparts  on  which  once  floated  the  banner  of 
St.  John. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DON  CARLOS. 

His  Education  and  Character- Dangerous  Illness — Extravagant  Behaviour— Opinions  respect- 
ing him— His  Connection  with  the  Flemings— Project  of  Flight — Insane  Conduct — Arrest. 

1567,  1568. 

WE  must  now,  after  a  long  absence,  return  to  the  shores  of  Spain,  where 
events  were  taking  place  of  the  highest  importance  to  the  future  fortunes  of 
the  monarchy.  At  the  time  when  the  tragic  incidents  described  in  the  pre- 
ceding Book  were  passing  in  the  Netherlands,  others,  not  less  tragic,  if  we 
may  trust  to  popular  rumour,  were  occurring  in  the  very  palace  of  the 
monarch.  I  allude  to  the  death  of  Don  Carlos,  prince  of  Asturias,  and  that 
of  Isabella  of  Valois;  Philip's  young  and  beautiful  queen.  The  relations  in 
which  the  two  parties  stood  to  each  other,  their  untimely  fate,  and  the 
mystery  in  which  it  was  enveloped,  have  conspired  with  the  sombre,  unscrupu- 
lous character  of  Philip  to  suggest  the  most  horrible  suspicions  of  the  cause  of 
their  death.  The  mystery  which  hung  over  them  in  their  own  time  has  not  been 
dissipated  by  the  researches  of  later  chroniclers.  For  that  very  reason,  it  has 
proved  an  inexhaustible  theme  for  fiction,  until  it  might  be  thought  to  have 
j  assed  from  the  domain  of  history  into  that  of  romance.  It  has  been  found 
especially  suited  to  the  purposes  of  the  drama  ;  and  the  dramatic  literature  of 
Europe  contains  more  than  one  masterpiece  from  the  hand  of  genius,  which 
di -plays  in  sombre  colouring  the  loves  and  the  misfortunes  of  Carlos  and 
Isabella.1 

11  "  Lorsqn'on    commence    rEvangHe,    le  day  be  restored  to  its  primitive  lustre. 
Orand-Matire  la  prend  do*  main*  du  I'ape  et  '  Alfieti.  Schiller,  and,   in  our  thy,   Lord 

It    tient  toute    droite    pendant    IP    inn*  de  John  Russell,  have,  each  according  to  bis  own 

I'Rvanirile.    ("put  la  soul-   occasion  oft   Ton  conception*,  exhibited  the  poetic    ««pect  of 

tlent  I'ppeV  nue  a  1'Eglloe."   Helyot,  Hist.  des  the  »t«ry  to  the  eyes  of  their  countrymen. 

Ordren  rellgieux,  torn.  Ill   p.  93.  The   Caxtllian   ilraiuatint  Montnlvan.  In    his 

••  Boisgelln,   Ancient  and    Modern  Malta,  "  Prfncipe  Don  Carlos,"  written   liefore  the 

vol.  I.  p.  35.  —The  good  knight  dwelt*  with  middle   of   the    seventeenth  century.  shows 

coin  pi  «c  ncy  on  the  particular!)  of  a  ceremony  mo'e  defiTenc*  to  historic  accuracy,  aa  well  aa 

In  \\liirh  he  had  often  borne  a  part  hinvelf.  to  the  reputation  of  Isabella,  l>y  not  mix  ng 

It  recalled  to  his  mind  the  glorious  days  of  her  up  in  any  way  with  the  fortunes  of  tha 

an  order  which  ha  fondly  hoped  might  one  prince  of  Asturlaa. 


442  DON  CARLOS. 

The  time  for  discussing  so  dark  and  intricate  a  subject  had  not  arrived  while 
the  Spanish  archives  were  jealously  locked  up  even  from  native  scholars.  But 
now  that  happily  a  more  liberal  system  has  prevailed,  and  access  has  been 
given  to  the  dread  repositories  of  the  secrets  of  the  Spanish  sovereigns,  the 
time  seems  to  have  come  for  investigating  this  mysterious  story.  And  if  I 
cannot  boast  that  I  have  been  able  to  dispel  the  doubts  that  have  so  long 
gathered  around  the  subject,  I  may  at  least  flatter  myself  that,  with  the 
materials  at  my  command,  I  have  the  means  of  placing  the  reader  in  a  better 
point  of  view  than  has  yet  been  enjoyed  for  surveying  the  whole  ground  and 
forming  his  own  conclusions. 

Don  Carlos  was  born  on  the  eighth  of  July,  1545.  His  mother,  Mary  of 
Portugal,  then  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  died  a  few  days  after  giving  birth  to 
her  ill-fated  child.  Thus  deprived  from  the  cradle  of  a  mother's  watchful  care, 
he  experienced  almost  as  little  of  his  father's  ;  for  until  Carlos  was  fourteen 
years  old  Philip  was  absent  most  of  the  time,  either  in  the  Low  Countries  or 
in  England.  The  care  of  the  child  was  intrusted  during  the  greater  part  of 
this  period  to  Philip's  sister,  the  Regent  Joanna  — an  excellent  woman,  but 
who,  induced  probably  by  the  feeble  constitution  of  Carlos,  is  said  to  have 
shown  too  much  indulgence  to  the  boy,  being  more  solicitous  to  secure  his 
bodily  health  than  to  form  his  character.  <In  our  easy  faith  in  the  miracles 
claimed  for  education,  it  sometimes  happens  that  we  cfiarge  on  the  parent  or 
the  preceptor  the  defects  that  may  be  more  reasonably  referred  to  tne  vicious 
constitution  of  the  child? 

As  Carlos  grew  older,  Philip  committed  the  care  of  his  instruction  to  Hpno- 
rato  Juan,  a  member  of  the  emperor's  household.  He  was  a  well-trained 
scholar,  and  a  man  of  piety  as  well  as  learning ;  and  soon  after  assuming  the 
task  of  the  prince's  preceptor  he  embraced  the  religious  profession.  The  corre- 
spondence of  Honorato  Juan  with  Philip,  then  in  Flanders,  affords  a  view  of 
the  proficiency  of  Carlos  when  eleven  or  twelve  years  old.  The  contentment 
which  the  king  evinces  in  the  earlier  letters  diminishes  as  we  advance ;  and 
anxious  doubts  are  expressed,  as  he  gathers  the  unwelcome  information  from 
his  tutor  of  his  pupil's  indifference  to  his  studies.* 

In  the  year  1556,  Charles  the  Fifth  stopped  some  time  at  Valladolid,  on  his 
way  to  his  cloistered  retreat  at  Yuste.*  He  there  saw  his  grandson,  and  took 
careful  note  of  the  boy,  the  heir  to  the  vast  dominions  which  he  had  himself 
so  recently  relinquished.  He  told  over  his  campaigns  to  Carlos,  and  how  he 
had  fled  at  Innsbruck,  where  he  barely  escaped  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy.  Carlos,  who  listened  eagerly,  interrupted  his  grandfather,  exclaiming, 
"  I  never  would  have  fled  ! "  Charles  endeavoured  to  explain  the  necessity  of 

*  This  correspondence  is  printed  in  a  titled,  Elogios  de  Don  Honorato  Jnan  (Va- 
curious  volume,  of  the  greatest  rarity,  en-  lencia,  1659),  p.  60,  et  seq. 


*  [On  hearing  of  the  emperor's  arrival  in  Yo  e  sabido  que  V.  Mt  esW  en  salvamento,  y 

Castile,  his  grandson  had  shown  an  extreme  e  holgado  dello  infinitamente,  tanto  que  no  lo 

desire  to  see  him,  and,  not  being  permitted  to  puedo  mas  encarecer.    Suplico  &  V.  M'  me 

go  and  meet  him,  had  sent  one  of  his  atten-  haga  saber  si  e  de  salir  a  recebir  &  V  M',  y 

dints   with   a  short    letter,   written,  as  bis  adonde.     Ay  va  don  Pedro  Piiaentel,  gentil- 

governor,  Don  Garcia  de  Toledo,  staU'S,  with-  bumbre  de  mi  camara  y  mi  emb;ixa<lor.  al 

out  assistance  from  any  one, — "  sin  ayudarse  qual  suplico  a  V.  M'  mande  lo  que  en  esto  se 

de  nadle."    It  has  been  printed  in  fac-simile  ha  de  h;izer.  para  que  el  me  lo  escriva.     Beso 

by  M.  Gachard.  and  both  the  expressions  and  las  man»s  de  V.   M'.      En  Valladolid.  2  de 

the  handwriting — the  latter  singularly  legible  otubre.      Muy  humilde  hijo  de   V.   M'.   El 

and  in  no  respect  resembling  a  schoolboy's  Principe.")     The    accents   and  punctuation 

scrawl — seem  to  disprove  the  notion  that  Don  have  been  added  by  M.  Ga<  hard,  without  the 

Carlos  was  naturally  defective  in  intelligence  necessity  for  any  change  in  the  orthography, 

and  incapable  of  instruction.    ("  S.  C.  C.  M«,  — ED.] 


HIS  EDUCATION  AND  CHARACTER.  443 

the  case  ;  but  the  boy  sturdily  maintained  that  he  never  would  have  fled. — 
amusing  and  indeed  delighting  the  emperor,  who  saw  in  this  the  mettle  of  his 
own  earlier  days.*  Yet  Charles  was  not  blind  to  the  defects  of  his  grandson, — 
to  the  wayward,  overbearing  temper,  which  inferred  too  much  indulgence  on 
the  part  of  his  daughter  the  regent.  He  reprehended  Carlos  for  his  want  of 
deference  to  his  aunt ;  and  he  plainly  told  the  latter  that  if  she  would  ad- 
minister more  wholesome  correction  to  the  boy  the  nation  would  have  reason 
to  thank  her  for  it.4 

After  the  emperor  had  withdrawn  to  his  retreat,  his  mind,  which  kept  its 
hold,  as  we  have  seen,  on  all  matters  of  public  interest  beyond  the  walls  of 
the  monastery,  still  reverted  to  his  grandson,  the  heir  of  his  name  and 
of  his  sceptre.  At  Simancas  the  correspondence  is  still  preserved  which  he 
carried  on  with  Don  Garcia  de  Toledo,  a  brother  of  the  duke  of  Alva,  who  held 
the  post  of  ayo,  or  governor  of  the  prince.  In  one  of  that  functionary's 
letters,  written  in  1557,  when  Carlos  was  twelve  years  old,  we  have  a  brief 
chronicle  of  the  distribution  of  the  prince's  time,  somewhat  curious,  as  showing 
the  outlines  of  a  royal  education  in  that  day. 

Before  seven  in  the  morning  Carlos  rose,  and  by  half-past  eight  had  break- 
fasted, and  attended  mass.  He  then  went  to  his  studies,  where  he  continued 
till  the  hour  of  dinner.  What  his  studies  were  we  are  not  told.  One  writer  of 
the  time  says,  among  other  things,  he  read  Cicero's  Offices,  in  order  the  better 
to  learn  to  control  his  passions.4  At  eleven  he  dined.  He  then  amused  him- 
self with  his  companions  by  playing  at  quoits,  or  at  trucos,  a  kind  of  billiards, 
or  in  fencing,  ana  occasionally  riding.  At  half-past  three  came  a  light  repast, 
the  merienda  ;  after  which  he  listened  to  reading,  or,  if  the  weather  was  fine, 
strolled  in  the  fields.  In  the  evening  he  supped  ;  and  at  haif-past  nine,  having 
gone  through  the  prayers  of  his  rosary,  he  went  to  bed,  where,  as  his  ayo  says, 
he  usually  made  but  one  nap  of  it  till  the  morning.  It  was  certainly  a  primi- 
tive way  of  life,  in  which  more  regard  seems  to  have  been  had  to  the  cravings 
of  the  body  tliari  of  the  mind,  and  as  regular  in  its  routine  as  the  monastic  me 
of  his  grandfather  at  Yuste.  Yet  Don  Garcia  does  not  fail  to  intimate  his 
discontent  with  the  want  of  interest  shown  by  his  pupil  not  merely  in  his 
studies,  but  in  fencing,  cane-playing,  and  other  manly  exercises,  so  essential 
to  the  education  of  a  cavalier  of  that  day.4  He  notices,  at  the  same  time,  the 
first  symptoms  of  those  bilious  attacks  which  already  menaced  the  prince's 
constitution,  and  so  effectually  undermined  it  in  later  years.* 

In  another  epistle,  Don  Garcia  suggests  that  it  might  be  well  for  the 
emperor  to  allow  Carlos  to  visit  him  at  Yuste,  trusting  that  his  grandfather's 
authority  would  accomplish  what  his  own  had  failed  to  do.8  But  this  sugges- 
tion found  no  favour,  apparently,  with  the  royal  recluse,  who  probably  was  not 

1  "  Egli  In  rollera  relteri  con  maraviglia  et  parn  todo  es  menpster  premya."    Carta  de 

rUo  dl  S  M.  et  de'  circumatanti,  clie  niai  epU  Garcia  <!••  Toledo  al  Eiuperador,  21  de  Agosto, 

non  saria  luggilo."     KeUlione  dl   Badoaro,  1557,  MS. 

MS.  '  "  Hasta  agora  no  Re  que  los  modlcos  ayan 

*  "Reprehendio  al    Principe   cu   nleto  nil  tratado  de  dar  nlnguna  coxa  al  principe  para 
poca  mesura  1  muclia  desenboltura  con  que  la  c  >lera,  ny  yo  lo  cousintlera  nazor,  Bin  dar 
vivia  1  trataba  con  BU  tia,  i  encowradftb  «u  i.riuu-ro  quenu  dello  a  vuvstr*  magemad." 
correccion,  diziendo  era  en  lo  q"   man  podia  Ibid. 

obllRar  a  todos."    Cabrera,  Fillpe  Segundu,  "  "  I>*eo  mncho  que  V.  M.  fue«>  aerviilo 

lib.  ii.  cap.  11.  quc  el  principe  diet*  una  bu<  lu  por  alia  para 

'  "  Ne  attende  ad  altro  rhe  a  lofrglrll  gll  vell«-  |>ur  quc  entendldos  KM  NtpedlmCDtM 

nlflcii  di  M.  Tallin  per  acqucUro  qm-i  truppo  quv  on  HII  ed.id  time  mamlaww  V.  M.  lo  que 

ardcnti  desideril."    Krlatlonu  di  Badoaro,  M ->.  fuera  ••<•  la  horden  con  que  yo  le  elrvo  iw  del* 

*  "En  lodrl  ertudioenU  poc« aprovechado,  uin.iar."     1X1  mlanto  al  niisuio,  13  de  Abiil, 
porqne  lo  haae  de  in.il.i  gana  y  an-y  mc«mo  l ii  ,  MS. 

'.os  uiros  exercicioe  de  Jugar  y  cagremyr,  que 


444 


DON  CARLOS. 


disposed  to  do  penance  himself  by  receiving  so  troublesome  an  inmate  in  his 
family.  The  emperor's  own  death,  which  occurred  shortly  after  this,  spared 
him  the  misery  of  witnessing  the  disastrous  career  of  his  grandson. 

The  reports  of  the  Venetian  ministers — those  precious  documents  that  con- 
tain so  much  instruction  in  respect  to  matters  both  of  public  and  domestic 
interest — make  occasional  allusions  to  the  prince  at  this  period.  Their  notices 
are  by  no  means  flattering.  They  describe  Carlos  as  of  a  reckless,  impatient 
temper,  fierce,  and  even  cruel,  in  his  disposition,9  and  so  arrogant  as  to  be  un- 
willing to  stand  with  his  head  uncovered,  for  any  long  time,  in  the  presence  of 
the  emperor  or  his  father."  Yet  this  harsh  picture  is  somewhat  redeemed  by 
other  traits ;  for  he  was  generous,  though  to  a  degree  of  prodigality, — giving 
away  his  trinkets  and  jewels,  even  his  clothes,  in  default  of  money.  He  nad  a 
fearless  heart,  with  a  strong  passion  for  a  military  life.  He  was  far  from 
frivolous  in  his  tastes,  despising  buffoons,  and  saying  himself  so  many  good 
things  that  his  tutor  carefully  made  a  collection  of  them.11  This  portrait  of  a 
youth  scarcely  fourteen  years  old  seems  as  highly  overcharged,  whether  for 
good  or  for  evil,  as  portraits  of  princes  usually  are.* 

Yet  the  state  of  the  prince's  health  may  be  fairly  mentioned  in  extenuation 
of  his  defects, — at  least  of  his  infirmity  of  temper.  For  his  bilious  tempera- 
ment already  began  to  show  itself  in  the  form  of  intermittent  fever,  with 
which  he  continued  to  be  afflicted  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Under  this 
depressing  disorder  his  spirits  sank,  his  body  wasted  away,  and  his  strength 

retta  in  mano,  et  chiama  il  padre  fratello,  et 
1'  avo  padre."    Ibid. 

"  "  I  )ice  a  tutti  i  prop"giti  tante  cose  argute 
che  '1  suo  miriistro  ne  raccolse  un  libretio." 
Ibid.  —  Another  contemporary  also  notices 
the  precocious  talents  of  the  boy,  as  shown 
in  his  smart  sayings :  "  Dexo  de  contar  las 
gracias  que  ticne  en  d-chos  maravillosos  que 
andan  por  boca  de  todos  dfsparzidos,  doxo  dft 
contar  lo  que  haze  para  provar  lo  que  dize." 
Coid<ro,  I'romptuario de  Medallas.  ap.C.istro, 
Historiade  los  Prutestantes  I  spafioles,  ap.  32rf. 


•  So  cruel,  according  to  the  court  gossip 
picked  up  by  Badoaro,  that,  when  hares  and 
other  game  were  brought  to  him,  he  would 
occasionally  amuse  himself  by  roasting  them 
alive! — "Dimostra  havere  un  animo  fiero,  et 
tra  gli  effetti  che  si  raccontano  uno  e,  che  alle 
volte,  che  dalla  oaccia  gli  viene  portato  o 
lepre  o  simile  animale,  si  diletta  di  vedirli 
arrostue  vivi."  Relatione  de  Badoaro,  MS. 

10  "Da  segno  di  dovere  essere  superbissimo, 
perche  non  poteva  sofierire  di  stare  lunga- 
mente  ne  innanzi  al  padre  ne  avo  con  la  ber- 


*  [The  most  trustworthy  description  of  the 
person  and  character  of  Don  Carlos  is  pro- 
bably that  given  in  a  letter  of  the  baron  vi>n 
1  ietrichstein,  imperial  minister  at  the  court 
of  Madrid,  who  had  receivid  a  particular 
charge  to  inquire  into  the  habits  and  moral 
and  physical  qualities  of  the  prince.  This 
report,  written  in  June,  1564,  when  Carlos 
bad  but  recently  recovered  from  one  of  his 
attacks  of  fever,  describes  him  as  not  dis- 
agreeable in  features,  though  exceedingly 
pale.  His  figure  was  not  only  bad  but  de- 
formed, one  shoulder  being  higher  and  one 
li'g  longer  than  the  other,  with  a  sunken 
chest,  and  a  slight  hump  on  the  back.  His 
voice  was  thin,  and  he  expressed  himself  with 
difficulty,  though  not  unintelligibly.  "He 
spoke  to  me  several  times,  and,  according  to 
bis  habit,  asked  me  many  que-tions,  which, 
however,  contrary  to  what  I  had  been  led  to 
expect,  seemed  to  me  very  pertinent."  In 
r«  gard  to  other  points  the  minister  was  un- 
able to  write  from  personal  observation.  He 
had  received  the  usual  accounts  of  the  prince's 
violent  and  obstinate  temper,  but  thought 
that  many  of  his  d  iccts  rn<ght  be  attributed 


to  ill  health,  or  might  have  been  corrected  by 
education,  as  he  was  snid  to  have  an  excellent 
memory  and  mucli  acuteness,  the  evidences 
of  this  latter  quality  being  the  sharp  sayings 
w  bich  he  was  only  too  apt  to  let  drop.  He 
was  naturally  very  gluttonous,  but  h;id  been 
restricted  to  a  regimen,  being  allowed  only 
a  single  dish,  consisting  of  a  boiled  capon 
seasoned  with  the  juice  of  a  leg  of  mutton. 
His  only  drink  was  water,  as  he  had  an  aver- 
sion to  w  ine.  "  He  Is  extremely  devout 
(gottsforchtig).  and  a  great  lover  of  ju.-tice 
and  of  truth ;  he  cannot  endure  falsehood,  or 
any  one  whom  he  has  ever  lound  guilty  of  it, 
while  he  n>;ikes  much  of  men  who  are  worthy, 
upright,  virtuous,  honourable,  and  distin- 
guished. He  exacts  punctual  service,  and 
shows  favour  and  affection  to  those  from 
whom  he  receives  it."  As  to  a  point  on 
which  the  emperor  was  very  solicitous  for 
information, — "an  ad  proereiindam  prolem 
aptus  vel  inaptus  sit," — no  one  could  speak 
with  confidence;  "nemoestqui  illiquid  certi 
hac  in  re  possit  afflrmare."  Koch,  Quellen 
zur  Geschichte  des  Kaisers  Maximilian  II. — 
E0.] 


445 

failed  to  such  a  degree  that  it  was  feared  he  might  not  reach  the  age  of 
manhood.1* 

In  the  beginning  of  1560,  Isabella  of  France  came  to  Castile,  and  on  the 
second  of  February  was  united  to  Philip.  By  the  preliminaries  of  the  treaty 
of  Gateau- Cambresis,  her  hand  had  been  assigned  to  Don  Carlos  ;  but  Alary 
Tudor  having  died  before  the  ratification  of  the  treaty,  the  name  of  the  father 
was  substituted  for  that  of  the  son,  and  the  royal  maiden  was  affianced  to 
Philip. 

The  marriage-ceremony  was  performed,  with  great  splendour,  at  Toledo. 
Carlos  was  present ;  and,  as  he  gazed  on  the  beautiful  bride,  it  is  not  impro- 
bable that  some  feelings  of  resentment  may  have  mingled  with  regret  when  he 
thought  of  the  unceremonious  manner  in  which  her  hand  had  been  transferred 
from  him  to  his  father.  But  we  should  be  slow  to  believe  that  Isabella  could 
have  felt  anything  like  the  tender  sentiment  that  romantic  historians  have 
attributed  to  her,  for  a  boy  of  fourteen,  who  had  so  few  personal  attractions 
to  recommend  him. 

On  the  twenty-second  of  the  same  month,  Carlos  was  formally  recognized  by 
the  cortes  of  Castile  as  heir  to  the  crown.  On  this  occasion  the  different 
members  of  the  royal  family  were  present,  together  with  the  great  nobles  and 
the  representatives  of  the  commons.  The  prince  rode  in  the  procession  on  a 
white  horse  superbly  caparisoned,  while  his  dress,  resplendent  with  jewels, 
formed  a  sad  contrast  to  the  sallow  and  sickly  countenance  of  its  wearer.13 
He  performed  his  part  of  the  ceremony  with  dignity  and  feeling.  When 
Joanna,  his  aunt,  and  his  uncle,  Don  John  of  Austria,  after  taking  the  oath, 
would  have  knelt,  according  to  custom,  to  kiss  his  hand,  he  would  not  allow  it, 
but  affectionately  raised  and  embraced  them.  But  when  the  duke  of  Alva 
inadvertently  omitted  the  latter  act  of  obeisance,  the  prince  received  him  so 
coldly  that  the  haughty  nobleman,  rebuked  by  his  manner,  perceived  his  error, 
and  humbly  acknowledged  it.14 

In  the  autumn  of  the  following  year,  with  the  hope  of  mending  his  health 
by  change  of  air,  Carlos  removed  to  Alcala  de  Henares,  famous  for  its  university 
founded  by  the  great  Ximenes.  He  had  for  his  companions  two  youths,  both 
destined  to  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  history  of  the  times.  One  was  Philip's 
illegitimate  brother,  Don  John  of  Austria,  the  hero  of  Lepanto ;  the  other 
was  the  prince's  cousin,  Alexander  Farnese,  son  of  Margaret  of  Parma,  who 
was  now  in  the  course  of  training  which  was  one  day  to  make  him  the  greatest 
captain  of  his  time.  The  three  boys  were  nearly  of  the  same  age ;  but  in 
their  accomplishments  and  personal  appearance  the  uncle  and  the  cousin 
afforded  as  strong  a  contrast  to  their  royal  kinsman  as  in  the  brilliant  fortunes 
that  awaited  them.1* 

Carlos  had  not  been  at  Alcald  many  months  before  he  met  with  an  accident 
which  was  attended  with  most  di.<a  trous  consequences.  One  evening  in 
April,  1562,  as  he  was  descending  a  tlightof  stairs,  he  made  a  misstep,  and  fell 

"  "l/»  paurre  prince  «rt  «i  ban  et  extemie,  Cabrera,  Fillpe  Segundo,  lib.  v.  cap.  7. 

II  va  d'heure  •  heure  tint  affbihliftaant,  que  "  IMd..  ubi  supra. 

leu  plus  sage*  de  crate  court  en  ont  bien  petite  '    Strada,  in  a  parallel  which  he  ha*  drawn 

esperance."    L'fivfque  de   Limoges  au  Rol,  of  the  royal  youths,  give*  the  i  aim  to  Dun 

1"  Mara.  1559,  ap.  Negotiations  relatives  au  John  of  Austria.     His  portrait  of  Carlo*  U  a* 

Regne  de  Francois  II  .  p.  291.  little  flattering  In  regard  to  Ills  person  an  to 

"  "Detente  de  la  Prlncesa  venla  don  Car-  his  character:   "Carolun.  prefer  colurem  et 

loft  a  BU  jurumento  con  mnl  ralor  de  qnarta-  raplDum,  ceterum  corpora  mendo-ns  :  qulppo 

naria  en  un  cavallo  bianco  con  rico  guarni-  humero  elatior,  et  tibia  altrra  longlor  prat; 

tnjp-nto  i  gnaldrapa  de  oro  i  plata  bordado  n<c  minus  debonestamcntum  ab  Indole  I  rocl 

Kobre  tet*de  oro  panla,  como  el  vestido  calan  et  coniumaci."    De  Bello  Bclgloo,  torn.  I.  p. 

con  muchus  botonett  de  |«rlai  I  diamante*."  609. 


446  DON  CARLOS. 

headlong  down  five  or  six  stairs  against  a  door  at  the  bottom  of  the  passage." 
He  was  taken  up  senseless,  and  removed  to  his  chamber,  where  his  physicians 
were  instantly  summoned,  and  the  necessary  remedies  applied."  At  first  it 
seemed  only  a  simple  contusion  on  the  head,  and  the  applications  of  the 
doctors  had  the  desired  effect.  But  soon  the  symptoms  became  more  alarm- 
ing. Fever  set  in.  He  was  attacked  by  erysipelas  ;  his  head  swelled  to  an 
enormous  size  ;  he  became  totally  blind ;  and  this  was  followed  by  delirium. 
It  now  appeared  that  the  skull  was  fractured.  The  royal  physicians  were 
called  in  ;  and  after  a  stormy  consultation,  in  which  the'  doctors  differed,  as 
usual,  as  to  the  remedies  to  be  applied,  it  was  determined  to  trepan  the 
patient.  The  operation  was  carefully  performed ;  a  part  of  the  bone  of  the 
skull  was  removed  ;  but  relief  was  not  obtained.* 

Meanwhile,  the  greatest  alarm  spread  through  the  country  at  the  prospect 
of  losing  the  heir-apparent.  Processions  were  everywhere  made  to  the 
churches,  prayers  were  put  up,  pilgrimages  were  vowed,  and  the  discipline  was 
unsparingly  administered  by  the  fanatical  multitude,  who  hoped  by  self- 
inflicted  penance  to  avert  the  wrath  of  Heaven  from  the  land.  Yet  all  did 
not  avail. 

We  have  a  report  of  the  case  from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Olivares,  the  prince's  own 
physician.  Some  of  the  remedies  were  of  a  kind  that  would  look  strange 
enough  if  reported  by  a  medical  journal  of  our  own  day.  After  all  efforts  of 
professional  skill  had  failed,  and  the  unguent  of  a  Moorish  doctor,  famous 
among  the  people,  had  been  rubbed  on  the  body  without  success,  it  was  re- 
solved to  make  a  direct  appeal  to  Heaven.  In  the  monastery  of  .fesus  Maria 
lay  the  bones  of  a  holy  Franciscan,  Fray  Diego,  who  had  died  a  hundred  years 
before,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  in  the  odour  of  sanctity.  King 
Philip  and  his  court  went  in  solemn  procession  to  the  church  ;  and  in  their 
presence  the  mouldering  remains  of  the  good  father,  still  sweet  to  the  nostrils, 
as  we  are  told,  were  taken  from  their  iron  coffin  and  transported  to  the  prince's 
apartment.  They  were  there  laid  on  his  bed ;  and  the  cloth  that  wrapped 
the  skull  of  the  dead  man  was  placed  on  the  forehead  of  Carlos.1*  Fortu- 
nately, the  delirious  state  of  the  patient  prevented  the  shock  that  might 
otherwise  have  been  given  to  his  senses.  That  very  night  the  friar  appeared 
to  Carlos  in  his  sleep.  He  was  muffled  in  his  Franciscan  robe,  with  a  green 
girdle  about  his  waist,  and  a  cross  of  reeds  in  his  hand  ;  and  he  mildly  bade 
him  "  be  of  good  cheer,  for  that  he  would  certainly  recover."  From  this  time, 
as  the  physician  who  reports  the  case  admits,  the  patient  began  speedily  to 
mend.  The  fever  subsided,  his  head  returned  to  its  natural  dimensions,  his 
eyes  were  restored  to  sight  At  the  end  of  something  less  than  two  months 
from  the  date  of  the  accident,  Carlos,  who  had  shown  a  marvellous  docility 
throughout  his  illness,"  was  enabled  to  walk  into  the  adjoining  apartment 

"  According  to  Guibert,  the  French  am-  y  di<5  una  viielta  sobre  todo  el  cuerpo,  y  asf 

bassador,  Carlos  was  engaged   in  a  love- ad-  cay6  de  cuatro  6  cinco  escalonec.     Dio  con 

venture  when  he  met  with  his  fall. — having  la  cabeza  un  gran  golpe  en  una  puerta  cer- 

descended  this  dark  stairway  in  search  of  the  rada,   y  quedo    la  cabeza  abajo  y   los  pies 

young  daughter  of  the  porter  of  the  garden.  arriba."      Helacion    de    la    Ktifermedad   del 

See  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen-  Principe  por  el  Doctor  Olivares,  Documentos 

turies,  vol.  i.  p.  119.  iiieditos,  torn.  xv.  p.  554. 

"  "  Este  dia  despues  de  haber  comido  que-  '•  l-erreras,  Hist,  de  1'Espagne,  torn.   ix. 

riendo  su  Alteza  bajar  por  una  escalera  escura  p.  429. 

y  de  ruines  pasoa  echo  el  pie  derecho  en  Tacio,  '•  Dr.  Ollvarea  bears  emphatic  testimony 


*  [There  were  nine  physicians  and  sur-  a  letter  from  the  court,  to  have  had  an  1m- 
geons  in  attendance  on  the  prince,  among  portant  share  In  the  cure.  See  Gachard,  Don 
them  the  celebrated  Vesalius,  who  seen)*,  by  Carlos  et  Philippe  II.,  torn,  i.— E».] 


HIS  EXTRAVAGANT  BEHAVIOUR. 


447 


and  embrace  his  father,  who  during  the  critical  period  of  his  son's  illness  had 
established  his  residence  at  Alcala,  showing  the  solicitude  natural  to  a  parent 
in  such  an  extremity.* 

The  merit  of  the  cure  was  of  course  referred  to  Fray  Diego.M  An  account 
of  the  miracle,  duly  authenticated,  was  transmitted  to  Rome  ;  and  the  holy 
man,  on  the  application  of  Philip,  received  the  honours  of  canonization  from 
the  pontiff.  The  claims  of  the  new  saint  to  the  credit  of  achieving  the  cure 
were  confidently  asserted  by  the  Castilian  chroniclers  of  that  and  succeeding 
ages ;  nor  have  I  met  with  any  one  hardy  enough  to  contest  them,  unless  it 
be  Dr.  Olivares  himself,  who,  naturally  jealous  of  his  professional  honour,  inti- 
mated his  conviction — this  was  before  the  canonization — that,  with  some 
allowance  for  the  good  wrought  by  Fray  Diego's  intercession  and  the  prayers 
of  the  righteous,  the  recovery  of  the  prince  was  mainly  to  be  referred  to  the 
skill  of  his  physicians.11 

But  the  recovery  of  Carlos  does  not  seem  to  have  been  so  complete  as  was 
at  first  thought.  There  is  good  reason  to  suppose  that  the  blow  on  bis  head 
did  some  permanent  injury  to  the  brain.t  At  least  this  may  be  inferred  from 
the  absurd  eccentricities  of  his  subsequent  conduct  and  the  reckless  manner 
in  which  he  abandoned  himself  to  the  gratification  of  his  passions.  In  1565, 
on  his  recovery  from  one  of  those  attacks  of  quartan  fever  which  still  beset 


to  this  virtue-,  little  to  have  been  expected  in 
bis  patient :  "  Lo  que  a  su  salmi  cumplia 
bizo  de  la  inisnia  suerte,  siendo  tan  obediente 
a  los  remedies  que  a  todos  espantaba  qne  por 
fuertea  y  recios  que  fuesen  nunca  lew  reuse, 
antes  todo  el  tiempo  que  estnvo  en  su  acuerdo 
el  mismo  los  pedia.  lo  cual  fue  grande  ayutla 
para  la  salud  que  Dion  le  ilio."  Docunu-ntos 
ineditofl,  torn.  xv.  p.  571. 

'"  Anot  irr  rival  appeared,  to  contest  the 
credit  of  the  cure  with  the  bones  of  Fray 
Diego.  This  was  Our  Lady  of  Atocha,  the 
patroness  of  Madrid,  whose  image,  held  in 
the  greatest  venera'ion  bv  Philip  the  Second, 
was  brought  to  the  chamber  of  Carlos  soon 
after  the  skeleton  of  the  holy  friar.  As  it 
was  after  the  patient  had  decidedly  begun 
to  mend,  there  seen.fi  to  be  the  lens  reason 
for  the  chroniclers  of  Our  Lady  of  Atocba 


maintaining,  as  they  sturdily  do,  her  share 
in  the  cure.  (Perada,  La  Madofia  de  Madrid 
(Yalladolid,  1604).  p.  151.)  The  veneration 
for  the  patroness  of  Madrid  has  continued  to 
the  present  day.  A  late  journal  of  that  capi- 
tal states  that  the  queen,  accompanied  by 
her  august  consort  and  the  princess  of 
Asturias,  went,  on  the  twentv-fourth  of 
March,  1854,  in  solemn  procession  to  the 
church,  to  decorate  the  image  with  the  collar 
of  the  Golden  Fleece. 

51  "Con  todo  eso  tomando  propriamente  el 
nombre  de  milagro,  ii  mi  juicio  no  lo  fur, 
porque  el  Prfncipe  se  euro  con  los  remedies 
naturales  y  ordinarios,  con  los  cuales  se  sue- 
len  curar  otros  de  la  misma  enfertnedad  es- 
tando  tamo  y  mas  peligrosos."  Docunu-ntos 
ineditos,  torn.  xv.  p.  570. 


•  [According  to  a  letter  of  the  Florentine 
minister,  who  had  his  information  from  an 
eye-witness,  the  spectacle  of  the  father'>  grief 
was  even  more  aflecting  than  the  condition 
of  the  son.  When,  however,  it  was  thought 
that  the  latter  had  only  a  few  hours  to  live, 
I'lilllp  yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  his  coun- 
cilors that  he  should  leave  Alcala,  and  pet 
"tit  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  having  first 
givi  n  directions  to  the  duke  of  Alva  and  the 
count  of  Krria  In  r<  gard  to  the  manner  of  con- 
ducting the  obsequies.  See  Gachard,  Don 
Carlos  rt  Philippe  11..  torn.  I.— ED.] 

t  [This  is  expr^sly  stated  by  Cabrera ;  but 
M.  <>aclmrd  considers  the  assertion  completely 
disproved  by  the  tenor  of  the  will  executed 
by  Carlo*  in  May,  1MU,  a  document  whlrh 
he  characterize  as  full  of  sense  and  good 
feeling  and  breathing  the  noblest  and  most 
generous  sentiments,  while  its  interest  is  en- 
hanced by  its  being  "the  sole  monument 


which  we  have  of  the  mind,  thoughts,  and 
character  of  Don  Carlos."  It  is  a  vi-ry  long 
instrument,  prepared,  under  the  prince's  di- 
rections, by  Hernan  Suarez,  a  leftist  of  Toledo, 
with  injunctions  to  keep  it  strictly  secret. 
The  most  noticeable  clauses  are  those  in  which 
the  testator  expresses  his  strong  affection  for 
his  former  tutor.  !!•  n<>rnto  Juan,  his  desire 
that  Martin  de  Cordova  msy  be  suitably  re- 
warded for  his  heroic  defence  of  Mazarquivlr, 
and  Hs  Intention  that  his  two  slaves  Diego 
and  Juan,  whom  he  has  wished  to  have  In- 
structed In  the  art  of  sculpture,  shall.  If  they 
conduct  themselves  well,  be  declared  free ; 
but  if  their  characters  shall  prove  to  be  such 
that  liberty  would  nut  be  an  advantage  to 
them,  lie  bequeaths  one  to  the  bishop  of 
Osma  (Ilimoratn  Juan)  and  the  other  to  the 
marquis  of  Tiivara,  with  an  Injunction  for 
their  good  treatment. — ED.] 


448  DON  CARLOS. 

him,  Philip  remarked,  with  a  sigh,  to  the  French  minister,  St.  Sulpice,  "that 
he  lipped  his  repeated  warnings  might  restrain  the  prince,  for  the  future,  from 
making  such  fatal  inroads  on  his  health."  *'  But  the  unfortunate  young  man 
profited  as  little  by  such  warnings  as  by  his  own  experience.  Persons  about 
the  court  at  this  period  have  left  us  many  stories  of  his  mad  humours,  which 
formed  the  current  scandal  at  Madrid.  Brantome,  who  was  there  in  1564, 
says  that  Carlos  would  patrol  the  streets  with  a  number  of  young  nobles  of  the 
same  lawless  habits  with  himself,  assaulting  the  passengers  with  drawn  swords, 
kissing  the  women,  and  insulting  even  ladies  of  the  highest  rank  with  the 
most  opprobrious  epithets.21 

It  was  the  fashion  for  the  young  gallants  of  the  court  to  wear  very  large 
boots.  Carlos  had  his  made  even  larger  than  usual,  to  accommodate  a  pair 
of  small  pistols.  Philip,  in  order  to  prevent  the  mischievous  practice,  ordered 
his  son's  boots  to  be  made  of  smaller  dimensions.  But  when  the  bootmaker 
brought  them  to  the  palace,  Carlos,  in  a  rage,  gave  him  a  beating,  and  then, 
ordering  the  leather  to  be  cut  in  pieces  and  stewed,  he  forced  the  unlucky 
mechanic  to  swallow  this  unsavoury  fricassee — as  much  as  he  could  get  down 
of  it — on  the  spot.24 

On  one  occasion  he  made  a  violent  assault  on  his  governor,  Don  Garcia  de 
Toledo,  for  some  slight  cause  of  offence.  On  another,  he  would  have  thrown 
his  chamberlain,  Don  Alpnzo  de  Cordova,  put  of  the  window.  These  noble- 
men complained  to  Philip,  and  besought  him  to  release  them  from  a  service 
where  they  were  exposed  to  affronts  which  they  could  not  resent.  The  king 
consented,  transferring  them  to  his  own  service,  and  appointed  Ruy  Gomez 
de  Silva,  prince  of  Eboli,  his  favourite  minister,  the  governor  of  Carlos.25 

But  the  prince  was  no  respecter  of  persons.  Cardinal  Espinosa,  president 
of  the  Council  of  Castile,  and  afterwards  grand  inquisitor,  banished  a  player 
named  Cisneros  from  the  palace,  where  he  was  to  have  performed  that  night 
for  the  prince's  diversion.  It  was  probably  by  Philip's  orders.  But,  however 
that  may  be,  Carlos,  meeting  the  cardinal,  seized  him  roughly  by  the  collar, 
and,  laying  his  hand  on  his  poniard,  exclaimed,  "You  scurvy  priest,  do  you 
dare  to  prevent  Cisneros  from  playing  before  me  ?  By  the  life  of  my  father, 
I  will  kill  you  ! "  *•  The  trembling  prelate,*  throwing  himself  on  his  knees, 

33  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Ceil-  French  architect  employed  on  the  Kscorial  at 

turies,  vol.  i.  p.  132.  this  time,  informed  the  historian  De  Thou 

"  "  II  aymoit  fort  a  ribler  le  pave,  et  faire  of  the  prince's  habit  of  wea:  ing  extremely 
a  coups  d'espee,  fust  de  jour,  fu-t  de  nuit,  large  leggings,  or  boots,  for  the  purpose  men- 
car  il  avoit  avec  luy  dix  ou  douze  enfans  tioned  in  the  text :  "  Nam  et  scloppetulos 
d'honneur  des  plus  grandes  maisons  d'Es-  binus  Funiina  arte  fabricates  caligi*,  quae 
pagne.  .  .  .  Quand  il  alloit  par  les  rues  quel-  auiplissima1  de  more  gentis  in  usu  sunt,  eum 
que  belle  dame,  et  fu.-t  elle  des  plus  grandes  ge.-tare  solitum  resciverat."  (Historic  sui 
du  pays,  il  la  prenoit  et  la  baisoit  par  force  Teni)>oris,  lib.  41.)  I  cite  the  original  Latin, 
devant  lout  le  monde ;  il  1'appelloit  putain,  as  the  word  caligre  has  been  wrongly  ren- 
bagasse,  cbienne,  et  force  autres  injures  leur  dereil  by  ihe  French  translator  into  culotte$.\ 
disoit-il."  Brantume,  (Euvres,  torn.  i.  p.  323.  "*  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vii.  cap.  22. 

"  "Dioun  bofeton  a  Don  Pedro  Manuel,!  "  "Curilla  vosos  atreveis  a  mi.nodexando 

guisadas  i  piradas  en  menudas  piecas  bizo  venir  a  servirme  Cisneros.'  por  vida  de  mi 

comer  las  vutas  al  menestral."  Cabrera,  p  dre  que  os  tengo  de  matar."  Cabrera, 

Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vii.  cap.  22.— De  Foix,  a  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vii.  cap.  22. 

*  [Espinosa  was  not  at  this  time  either  a  having  treated  the  bootmaker  in  the  manner 

bishop  or  a  cardinal.  He  received  the  hat  described  as  a  calumny  invented  by  his 

and  was  appointed  to  the  see  of  Siguenza  in  father's  ministers.  It  may  seem  a  more  pro- 

the  spring  of  1568,  during  the  imprisonment  bable  supposition  that  it  was  a  popular  ex- 

of  Don  Carlos.  Gachard,  Don  Carlos  et  Phi-  aggerution  of  some  incident  characteristic 

lippe  IL,  torn,  i.— ED.]  enough  of  an  irritable  and  exacting  but  not 

•f  [De  Castro  (Hist,  de  log  Protestantes  actually  frenzied  nature.  The  extravagances 

Espafiules)  considers  the  story  of  Curios  of  language  related,  with  more  or  less  truth. 


HIS  DISPOSITION.  449 

was  too  happy  to  escape  with  his  life  from  the  hands  of  the  infuriated  prince. 
Whether  the  latter  had  his  way  in  the  end,  in  regard  to  the  comedian,  is  not 
stated.  But  the  stun0  of  which  a  grand  inquisitor  is  made  is  not  apt  to  be  of 
the  yielding  sort. 

A  more  whimsical  anecdote  is  told  us  by  Nobili,  the  Tuscan  ambassador 
then  resident  at  the  court.  Carlos,  having  need  of  money,  requested  a  mer- 
chant, named  Grimaldo,  to  advance  him  the  sum  of  fifteen  hundred  ducats. 
The  money-lender  readily  consented,  thanking  the  prince  for  the  favour  done 
him,  and  adding,  in  the  grandiloquent  vein  of  the  Castilian,  that  "all  he  had 
was  at  his  disposal."  *7  Carlos  took  him  at  his  word,  and  forthwith  demanded 
a  hundred  thousand  ducats.  In  vain  poor  Grimaldo,  astounded  by  the  re- 
quest, protested  that "  it  would  ruin  his  credit ;  that  what  he  had  said  was 
only  words  of  compliment."  Carlos  replied,  "  he  had  no  right  to  bandy  com- 
pliments with  princes ;  and,  if  he  did  not  in  four-and-twenty  hours  pay  the 
money  to  the  last  real,  he  and  his  family  would  have  cause  to  rue  it."  It  was 
not  till  after  much  negotiation  that  Ruy  Gomez  succeeded  in  prevailing  on 
the  prince  to  be  content  with  the  more  modest  sum  of  sixty  thousand  ducats, 
which  was  accordingly  furnished  by  the  unfortunate  merchant.2*  The  money 
thus  gained,  according  to  Nobili,  was  squandered  as  suddenly  as  it  was  got. 

There  are,  happily,  some  touches  of  light  to  relieve  the  shaaows  with  which 
the  portrait  is  charged.  Tiepolo,  who  was  ambassador  from  Venice  at  the 
court  of  Madrid  in  1567,  when  Carlos  was  twenty-two  years  old,  gives  us 
some  account  of  the  prince.  He  admits  his  arrogant  and  fiery  temper,  but 
commends  his  love  of  truth,  and,  what  we  should  hardly  have  expected,  the 
earnestness  with  which  he  engaged  in  his  devotions.  He  was  exceedingly 
charitable,  asking,  "  who  would  give,  if  princes  did  not  ?  "  **  He  was  splen- 
did in  his  way  of  living,  making  the  most  liberal  recompense  not  only  to  his 
own  servants,  but  to  the  king's,  who  were  greatly  attached  to  him.*'  He  was 
ambitious  of  taking  part  in  the  conduct  of  public  atiuirs,  and  was  sorely  dis- 
contented when  excluded  from  them — as  seems  to  have  been  usually  the  case 
— by  his  father.*1 

"  "II  qnal  Niccolo  lo  fece  subito  ct  co'  M  "fe  splendetissimo  in  tutte  le  cose  et 

parole  di  Complimento  rmde  gratis  a  sua  massime  nel  beneficiar  chi  lo  serve :  II  che  fa 

Altezza  offer  endoli  semprc  tutlo  quel  che  per  cosi  largamente  che  necessita  ad  amarlo  anco 

lui  si  poteva."    Lettera  di  Nobili,  Ambas-  i  servitori  del  Padre."    Ibid.,  MS. 
ciatoredei  Granduca  di  Toscagna  al  Re  Phi-  "  "E  curiopo  nel  Intendere  i  negozii  del 

lippo,  24  di  Luglio,  1567,  MS.  stato,  ne  i  quali  s'imrometterebbe  volontieri, 

"'  "  Cl  B!  messe  dl  mexzo  Ruigomes  et  molt!  et  procure  dl  saper  quello  che  tratta  il  Padre, 

altri  ne  Bi  c  mai  possuto  quielar'  fin  tanto  cbe  et  cbe  egll   ascondo   gli  fa  grande   offesa." 

Niccolo  u<>'  li  ha  prestato  sessantamila  srudi  Ibid. — Granvelle,  in  one  of  bis  letters,  notices 

co'  pua  polizza  senza  altro  assegniamento."  with  approbation  this  trait  in  the  character 

Lettera  dl  NoMli,  MS.  of  Carlos :  "  Many  are  plrased  witb  the  prince, 

'"  "  Mostra  di  esser  molto  religioso  solid-  others  not.     1  think  him  modest,  and  inclined 

Undo  come  fa  le  prediche  et  dl  vinl  offlcll,  anzl  to  employ  himself,  which,  for  the  heir  of  such 

in  questo  si  puo  dir  che  eccede  1'  honesto,  et  large  dominions,   is  in   the    highest    degree 

suol  dire,  Chi  debbe  far  Klemosine.  se  non  la  necessary."     Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seven- 

danno  i  Prencipi  ?  "  Kelatione  di  Tiepolo,  MS.  teenth  Centuries,  vol.  i.  p.  128.* 

by  Brantome,  might  be  similarly  explained.  children  and  discharging  the  obligations  of  an 

"  Whatever  he  Inis  on  his  heart,"  writes  the  imprisoned  debtor,  while  on  another  occasion 

imperial   minister,  "be   utters  without    re-  be  gives  an   alms  of  one   hundred  reals  to 

serve.  Indifferent  as  to  whom  it  bits."— ED.]  Damian  Martfn,  "father  of  the  girls  beaten 

•  [Some  apparent  inconsistencies  in    the  by  order  of  his  highness."    Perhaps  the  worst 

character  of    Don   Carlos  are  perhaps    best  story  told  of  him  is  that  of  his  having  one  day 

established  by  the  extracts  from  his  account-  shut  himself  up  In  his  stables  and  inflicted 

books  published  In  the  Coleccion  de  Ikicu-  serious  injuries  on  more  than  a  score  of  horses, 

mentos  inldiU*  para  la  Hist,  de  Espana,  torn.  The  strongest  evidence  for  this  seems  to  be  an 

xxvil.    In  these  we  find  him  paying  fur  the  allu«ion  to  it  In  a  litter  of  Hernan  Suarcx, 

maintenance   and    education    of   abandoned  afterwards  cited. — ED.] 

2  a 


450  DON  CARLOS. 

It  was  certainly  to  the  prince's  credit  that  he  was  able  to  inspire  those  who 
approached  him  most  nearly  with  strong  feelings  of  personal  attachment.  \ 
Among  these  were  his  aunt  Joanna,  the  regent,  and  the  queen,  Isabella,  who, 
regarding  him  with  an  interest  justified  by  the  connection,  was  desirous  of 
seeing  him  married  to  her  own  sister.  His  aunt  Mary  and  her  husband,  the 
Emperor  Maximilian,  also  held  Carlos,  whom  they  had  known  in  early  days, 
in  the  kindest  remembrance,  and  wished  to  secure  his  hand  for  their  eldest 
daughter.  A  still  more  honourable  testimony  is  borne  by  the  relations  in 
which  he  stood  to  his  preceptor,  Honorato  Juan,  who,  at  the  prince's  solicita- 
tion, had  been  raised  to  the  bishopric  of  Osma.  Carlos  would  willingly  have 
kept  this  good  man  near  his  own  person.  But  he  was  detained  in  his  diocese ; 
and  the  letters  from  time  to  time  addressed  to  him  by  his  former  pupil,  what- 
ever may  be  thought  of  them  as  pieces  of  composition,  do  honour  to  the 
prince's  heart.  "  My  best  friend  in  this  life,"  he  affectionately  writes  at  the 
close  of  them,  "  I  w'ill  do  all  that  you  desire."  **  Unfortunately,  this  good 
friend  and  counsellor  died  in  1566.  By  his  will,  he  requested  Carlos  to  select 
for  himself  any  article  among  his  effects  that  he  preferred.  He  even  gave 
him  authority  to  change  the  terms  .of  the  instrument  and  make  any  other 
disposition  of  his  property  that  he  thought  right !  M  It  was  a  singular  proof 
of  confidence  in  the  testator,  unless  we  are  to  receive  it  merely  as  a  Spanish 
compliment, — somewhat  perilous,  as  the  case  of  Grimaldo  proves,  with  a 
person  who  interpreted  compliments  as  literally  as  Carlos. 

From  all  this,  there  would  seem  to  have  been  the  germs  of  generous  quali- 
ties in  the  prince's  nature,  which,  under  a  happier  culture,  might  have  been 
turned  to  some  account.  But  he  was  placed  in  that  lofty  station  which  ex- 

Eosed  him  to  the  influence  of  parasites,  who  flattered  his  pride,  and  corrupted 
is  heart,  by  ministering  to  his  pleasures.  From  the  eminence  which  he 
occupied,  even  the  smallest  errors  and  eccentricities  became  visible  to  the 
world  and  the  objects  of  unsparing  criticism.  Somewhat  resembling  his 
father  in  person,  he  was  different  from  him  both  in  his  good  qualities  and  his 
defects,  so  that  a  complete  harrier  was  raised  between  them.  Neither  party 
could  comprehend  the  other  ;  and  the  father  was  thus  destitute  of  the  means 
which  he  might  else  have  had  of  exerting  an  influence  over  the  son.  The 
prince's  dissipated  way  of  life,  his  perpetual  lapses  from  decorum,  or,  to  speak 
more  properly,  his  reckless  defiance  of  decency,  outraged  his  father,  so  punc- 
tilious in  his  own  observance  of  the  outward  decencies  of  life.  He  may  well 
have  dwelt  on  such  excesses  of  Carlos  with  pain ;  but  it  may  be  doubted  if 
the  prince's  more  honourable  desire  to  mingle  in  public  affairs  was  to  the  taste 
of  Philip,  who  was  too  tenacious  of  power  willingly  to  delegate  it,  beyond 
what  was  absolutely  necessary,  to  his  own  ministers.  The  conduct  of  his  son, 
unhappily,  furnished  him  with  a  plausible  ground  for  distrusting  his  capacity 
for  business. 

Thus  distrusted,  if  not  held  in  positive  aversion,  by  his  father ;  excluded 
from  any  share  in  the  business  of  the  state,  as  well  as  from  a  military  life, 
which  would  seem  to  have  been  well  suited  to  his  disposition  ;  surrounded  by 
Philip's  ministers,  whom  Carlos,  with  too  much  reason,  regarded  as  spies  on 
his  actions, — the  unhappy  young  man  gave  himself  up  to  a  reckless  course  of 
life,  equally  ruinous  to  his  constitution  and  to  his  character ;  until  the  people, 

"  "Mi  mayor  amigo  que  tengo  en  esta  "  "  Su  Alteza  afiada,  y  quite  todo  lo  que  le 
vida,  que  hare  lo  que  vos  me  pidieredes."  pareciere  de  mi  testamento,  yestemiCodicilo, 
Elogios  de  Honorato  Juan,  p.  66. — The  lart  que  aquello  que  BU  Alteza  mandare  lo  doy,  y 
words,  it  is  true,  may  be  considered  as  little  quiero  que  sea  tan  valido  como  si  estuviesse 
more  than  a  Castilian  form  of  epistolary  expressftrto  en  estf  mi  Codicilo,  o  en  el  testa- 
courtesy,  mento."  Ibid.,  p.  73. 


HIS  DISPOSITION. 


451 


•who  had  hailed  with  delight  the  prospect  of  a  native-born  rWnce,  now  felt 
a  reasonable  apprehension  as  to  his  capacity  for  government" 

But,  while  thus  an  object  of  distrust  at  home,  abroad  more  than  one 
sovereign  coveted  an  alliance  with  the  heir  of  the  Spanish  monarchy.  Catherine 
de  Mediris  would  gladly  have  secured  his  hand  for  a  younger  sister  of  Isabella, 
in  which  project  she  was  entirely  favoured  by  the  queen.  This  was  in  1565  ; 
but  Philip,  in  his  usual  procrastinating  spirit,  only  replied,  "  They  must  reflect 
upon  it."  **  He  looked  with  a  more  favourable  eye  on  the  proposals  warmly 
pressed  by  the  emperor  and  empress  of  Germany,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  still 
cherished  a  kindly  remembrance  of  Carlos,  and  wished  his  union  with  their 
daughter  Anne.  That  princess,  who  was  a  year  younger  than  her  cousin, 
claimed  Spain  as  her  native  land,  having  been  born  there  during  the  regency 
of  Maximilian.  But  although  the  parties  were  of  suitable  age.  and  Philip 
acquiesced  in  the  proposals  for  their  marriage,  his  want  of  confidence  in  his 
son,  if  we  may  credit  the  historians,  still  moved  him  to  defer  the  celebration 
of  it.**  Anne  did  indeed  live  to  mount  the  throne  of  Castile,  but  as*  the  wife, 
not  of  Carlos,  but  of  Philip,  after  the  death  of  Isabella.  Thus,  by  a  singular 
fatality,  the  two  princesses  who  had  been  destined  for  the  son  were  each  of 
them  married  to  the  father.* 

The  revolutionary  movement  in  the  Netherlands  was  at  this  time  the  great 
subject  that  engaged  the  attention  of  the  Spaniards ;  and  Carlos  is  reported 


"  "Cos!  come  sono  allegjri  1  Spagnnoli 
d'haver  per  loro  Sigre  nn  Re  natural*1 :  uoel 
B  tan  no  molto  in  dubio  qual  debbe  eager  il  suo 
governo."  Kelatione  di  Tiepolo.  MS. 


11  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 
turies, vol.  i.  p.  132. 

•**  Herrera,  Histurla  general,  torn.  i.  p.  680. 


•  [Of  the  different  matrimonial'designs  of 
which  Don  Carlos,  as  heir  to  the  greatest 
monarchy  of  Europe,  wan  the  object,  the  most 
amusing  was  the  suit  vigorously  prosecuted 
on  her  own  behalf  by  bis  aunt,  the  princess 
Juana,  who,  having  missed  the  throne  of 
Portugal,  aspired  to  that  of  Spain  as  the  fittest 
compensation,  and  rejected  with  contempt 
offers  from  several  of  the  Italian  princes.  The 
nearness  of  blood  could  be  no  obstacle  in  a 
family  which,  aided  by  papal  dispensations, 
was  accustomed  to  carry  intermarriage  to 
nearly  the  same  extent  as  the  Peruvian  Incas ; 
while  her  ten  years'  seniority  to  her  nephew 
seemed,  probably,  to  the  princess  herself  an 
additional  recommendation,  a*  injuring  a  con- 
tinuance of  the  care  and  solicitude  she  had 
bestow  IM|  upon  his  infancy,  and  which  she 
may  have  thought  him  likely  always  to  need. 
The  Spanish  nat.on  took  the  same  view,  and 
the  cones  of  Castile  petitioned  Philip  to  effect 
the  marriage.  Carlos,  however,  held  different 
sentiments,  which  he  expressed  with  his  usual 
bluntness,  not  only  declaring  in  private  his 
determination  not  to  wed  the  princess,  but 
presenting  himself  before  the  cones  and  rating 
it  for  having  dared  to  meddle  In  the  matter, 
as  well  as  for  having  requested  his  father  not 
to  take  him  to  the  Netherlands.  A  proposal 
to  which  he  showed  himself  better  Inclined 
was  started  originally  l<y  the  finises,  who,  on 
the  death  of  Francis  II.  of  France,  conceived 
tin-  idea  of  forming  what  was  thought  a  rtlll 
more  splendid  connection  for  th'ir  Ill-fat-d 
niece.  Catherine  de  Mcdkis  u-t  herself  dili- 


gently to  countermining  this  project,  —  in 
every  way  inimical  to  her  interests,— and  suc- 
ceeded by  threats  in  extorting  from  the  Cardi- 
nal of  Lorraine  a  promise  to  desist  from  pur- 
suing it.  It  was,  however,  revived  after 
Mary's  arrival  in  Scotland,  her  subjects  being 
favourable  to  an  alliance  which  offered  tho 
strongest  counterpoise  to  the  power  of  Kng- 
land, — a  patriotic  consideration  that  led  the 
Heformers  to  stifle  the  motive*  which  might 
have  been  expected  to  rouse  their  strenuous 
opposition.  A  like  consideration  might  have 
led  Philip  to  regard  the  match  with  favour  II 
he  had  not— in  contrast  to  bis  own  f.ith.  r  and 
to  fathers  in  general— wished  to  postpone  the 
marriage  of  his  son  until  assured  of  the  lalUT's 
fitness  to  render  himself  an  agreeable  hoshand. 
Such,  at  least,  was  the  excuse  he  alleged  for 
delaying  an  acceptance  of  the  en>|»eror'»  offer, 
which  Carlos,  on  the  other  hand,  was  eager  to 
accept.  He  had  obtained  a  portrait  of  the 
princess  Anne,  and  fancied  himself  deeply  In 
love  with  her.  Being  asked  on  one  occasion 
by  the  queen  where  bis  thoughts  were,  ho 
answered.  "Three  hundred  leagues  from 
here."  "  Where,  ihen  t"  »he  asked,  smiling. 
"  With  my  cousin,"  be  replied.  This  nn- 
gallant  answer,  reported  In  a  letter  of  the 
Krench  inlni-l'  r,  teems  a  sufficient  refutation 
of  his  pretended  love  for  his  step- mother, 
though  her  kindness  and  compassion  for  htm. 
and  the  reverence  with  which  It  was  repaid, 
are  well  established.  See  line-hunt.  Dun  Carlo* 
et  Philippe  II..  passim.— Ku] 


452  DON  CARLOS. 

to  have  taken"  a  lively  interest  in  it.  According  to  Antonio  Perez,  the  Flemings 
then  at  the  court  made  positive  overtures  to  the  prince  to  head  the  revolt.87 
Strada  speaks  of  Bergen  and  Montigny,  then  at  Madrid,  as  the  channel  of 
communication  through  which  Carlos  engaged  to  settle  the  affairs  of  that 
distracted  country.**  That  a  person  of  his  ardent  temper  should  have  felt 
sympathy  with  a  people  thus  bravely  struggling  for  its  liberties,  is  not  impro- 
bable ;  nor  would  one  with  whom  "  to  think  and  to  speak  was  the  same 
thing"*9  be  at  all  unlikely  to  express  himself  on  the  subject  with  much  more 
freedom  than  discretion.  And  it  may  have  been  in  allusion  to  this  that  his 
almoner,  Suarez,  in  a  letter  without  date,  implores  the  prince  "to  abandon  his 
dangerous  designs,  the  illusion  <  f  the  Evil  One,  which  cannot  fail  to  bring 
mischief  to  himself  and  disquiet  to  the  monarchy." 40  The  letter  concludes  with 
a  homily,  in  which  the  good  doctor  impresses  on  the  prince  the  necessity  of 
filial  obedience,  by  numerous  examples,  from  sacred  and  profane  story,  of  the 
sad  end  of  those  who  had  impiously  rejected  the  counsels  of  their  parents.41 

But,  although  it  is  true  that  this  hypothesis  would  explain  much  that  is 
enigmatical  in  the  subsequent  history  of  Carlos,  I  must  confess  1  have  met 
with  no  confirmation  of  it  in  the  correspondence  of  those  who  had  the  direction 
of  affairs  in  the  Low  Countries,  nor  in  the  charges  alleged  against  Montigny 
himself,— where  an  attempt  to  suborn  the  heir-apparent,  one  might  suppose, 
would  have  been  paraded  as  the  most  heinous  offence.  Still,  that  farlos 
regarded  himself  as  the  proper  person  to  be  intrusted  with  the  mission  to  the 
Netherlands  is  evident  from  his  treatment  of  Alva  when  that  nobleman  was 
appointed  to  the  command  of  the  army. 

On  that  occasion,  as  the  duke  came  to  pay  his  respects  to  him  previous  to 
his  departure,  the  prince  fiercely  said,  "  You  are^not  to  go  to  Flanders  ;  I  will 
go  there  myself."  Alva  endeavoured  to  pacify  him,  saying  that  it  was  too 
dangerous  a  mission  for  the  heir  to  the  throne ;  that  he  was  going  to  quiet 
the  troubles  of  the  country  and  prepare  it  for  the  coming  of  the  king,  when 
the  prince  could  accompany  his  father,  if  his  presence  could  be  spared  in 
Castile.  But  this  explanation  served  only  to  irritate  Carlos  the  more  ;  and, 
drawing  his  dagger,  he  turned  suddenly  on  the  duke,  exclaiming,  "  You  shall  not 
go ;  if  you  do,  I  will  kill  you."  A  struggle  ensued, — an  awkward  one  for  Alva, 
as  to  have  injured  the  heir-apparent  might  have  been  construed  into  treason. 
Fortunately,  being  much  the  stronger  of  the  two,  he  grappled  with  Carlos,  and 
held  him  tight,  while  the  latter  exhausted  his  strength  in  ineffectual  struggles 
to  escape.  But  no  sooner  was  the  prince  released  than  he  turned  again,  with 
the  fury  of  a  madman,  on  the  duke,  who  again  closed  with-  him,  when  the 

"  Raumer  (Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  On-  quello.che  ba  in  cuore,  bain  bocca."    Lettera 

tunes,  vol.  i.  p.  153),  who  cites  a  manuscript  del  Nunzio  al  Cardinale  Alessandrinl,  Giugno, 

letter  of  Antonio  Perez  to  the  councillor  Du  1566,  MS. 

Vaire,  extant  in  the  Royal  Library  of  Paris.  *°  "  Que  eran  de  grandlsimo  enpafio,  y  error 

A  passage  in   a  letter  to  Carlos  from  his  peligrosisimo,  inventado  y  buscado  todo  por 

almoner,  Doctor  Hernan  Suarez  de  Toledo,  el  demonio,  para  dar  travajo  a  V.  A.  y  pensar 

has  been  interpreted  as  alluding  to  his  inter-  dai  le  u  todos,  y  para  desasogear,  y  aun  inquie- 

course  with  the    deputies    from    Flanders :  tar  la  grandeza  de  la  monarquia."    Carta  de 

"  Tambien  he  llorado,  no  baber  parecido  bien  Hernan  Suarez  al  Principe,  MS. 

que  V.  A.  hablase  a  loi  procuradores,  como  "  The  intimate  relations  of  Doctor  Suarez 

dicen  que  lo  hizo,  no  se  lo  que  fue,  pero  with  Carlos  exposed  him  to  suspicions  in  re- 

que  cumple  mucho  hacer  los  hombres  BUS  gard    to   his  loyalty  or   his   orthodoxy, — we 

negocios  propios,  con  consejo  ageno,  por  que  are  not  told  which, — that  might  have  cost  him 

Ion  muy  diestros  nunca  nan  del  suyo."    The  bis  life,  had  not  this  letter,  found  among  the 

!•  tier,  which  is  without  date,  is  to  be  found  prince's  papers  after  his  death,  proved  a  suf- 

In  the  arcliiepiscopal  library  of  Toledo.  ficient  voucher  for   the  doctor's   innocence. 

>H  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  376.  Soto,  Anotacioiies  &  la  Historia  de  Talabera, 

"    "l£  principe,"  writes  the  nuncio,  "che  MS. 


PROJECT  OF  FLIGHT.  453 

noise  of  the  fray  brought  in  one  of  the  chamberlains  from  an  adjoining  room  ; 
and  Carlos,  extricating  himself  from  the  iron  grasp  of  his  adversary,  withdrew 
to  his  own  apartment.4* 

Such  an  outrage  on  the  person  of  his  minister  was  regarded  by  Philip  as  an 
indignity  to  himself.  It  widened  the  breach,  already  too  wide,  between  father 
and  son  ;  and  so  great  was  their  estrangement  that,  when  living  in  the  same 
palace,  they  seem  to  have  had  no  communication  with  each  other.4*  Much 
of  Philip's  time,  however,  at  this  period,  was  passed  at  the  Escorial,  where  he 
was  watching  over  the  progress  of  the  magnificent  pile  which  was  to  com- 
memorate the  victory  of  St.  Quentin.  But,  while  in  his  retreat,  the  ministers 
placed  about  his  son  furnished  the  king  with  faithful  reports  of  his  pro- 
ceedings. 

Such  was  the  deplorable  state  of  things,  when  Carlos  came  to  the  fatal 
determination  to  escape  from  the  annoyances  of  his  present  position  by  flying 
to  some  foreign  land,— to  what  country  is  not  certainly  known  ;  some  say  to 
the  Netherlands,  others  to  Germany.  The  latter,  on  the  whole,  seems  the 
most  probable  ;  as  in  the  court  of  Vienna  he  would  meet  with  his  promised 
bride,  and  friends  who  would  be  sure  to  welcome  him.* 

As  he  was  destitute  of  funds  for  such  a  journey,  he  proposed  to  raise  them 
through  a  confidential  agent,  one  of  his  own  household,  by  obtaining  loans 
from  different  cities.  Such  a  reckless  mode  of  proceeding,  which  seemed  at 
once  to  proclaim  his  purpose,  intimated  too  plainly  the  lieedlessness  of  his 
character  and  his  utter  ignorance  of  affairs. 

But,  while  these  negotiations  were  in  progress,  a  circumstance  occurred 
exhibiting  the  conduct  of  Carlos  in  such  a  light  that  it  may  claim  the  shelter 
of  insanity.  The  story  is  told  by  one  of  the  prince's  household,  an  ayuda  de 
camara,  or  gentleman  of  the  chamber,  who  was  present  at  the  scene,  which 
he  describes  with  much  simplicity. 

For  some  days  his  master,  he  tells  us,  had  no  rest,  frequently  repeating 
that  "  he  desired  to  kill  a  man  with  whom  he  had  a  quarrel ! "  "  The  same 
thing  he  said — without,  however,  intimating  who  the  man  was — to  his  uncle, 
Don  John  of  Austria,  in  whom  he  seems  to  have  placed  unbounded  confidence. 
This  was  near  Christmas  in  15(57.  It  was  customary  on  the  twenty-eighth  of 
December,  the  day  of  the  Innocents,  for  the  members  of  the  royal  family  to 

•*  Cabrera,  Filipc  Segundo,  lib.  vll.cap.  13.  *•  "  Avia  mnchos  dlas,  qne  el  Principe  mi 

— Strmla,  De  Bello  Belirico,  torn.  i.  p.  376. —  Sefior  andaba  inquieto  sin  poder  sow-gar,  y 

Vanderbamtnen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria  (Ma-  decia,  que  avia  de  uiatar  a  un  bombre  con 

dri<l,  1627),  ful.  37.  quien  estaba  uial.  y  de  este  dio  parte  al  Sefior 

"  Letter  of  Forqnevaulx,  January  19tb,  Don  Juan,  pero  sin  declararle  quien  fues*-." 

1569,  ap.  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  !>••  U  Prision  y  Muerte  del  i'rincipe  Dun 

Centuries,  vol.  i.  p.  85.  Carlos,  MS. 

•  [His  intention,  as  stated  in  the  letters  own  visit  to  the  Netherlands  after  having 

from  tbe  court,  was  to  go  to  Italy ;  according  expressly  promised  to  take    his    son    witn 

to  some  reports,  with  the  ulterior  purpose  of  him,  it  may  be  inferred  that  the  latter  country 

proceeding  to  Flanders,  while  others,  with  was  the  prince's  real  destination,  as  also  th.it 

less  probability,  represent  him  as  designing  to  he  hoped  to  receive  aid  from  the  emperor, — 

raise  an  insurrection  in  tbe  Italian  provinces  who  bad  been  appealed  to  by  tbe  Flemish 

subject  to  Spain.     There  was  also  a  rumour  nobles,  and  who  was  eager  to  receive  Carlos 

of  his  intending  to  fly  to  Portugal,  which,  as  his  son-in-law.    Such  a  project  was  far  less 

according  to  Fourquevaulx,  was  the  opinion  wild  than  it  may  now  appear.    Striking  ex- 

of  Philip,  founded,  perhaps,  chiefly  on   tbe  amples  in  the  preceding  century,  that  eopeci- 

fact  that  Carlos  was  tbe  heir  presumptive  to  ally  of  Louis  XI.  while  dauphin,— to  which 

tbe  throne  of  that  kingdom.     As  one  strong  M.  Oachard  ha>  pointed  as  a  somewhat  analo- 

nmtivc  of  his  projected  flight  seems  to  have  gous  case,— were  still  fresh  In  the  recollection 

been  his  disgust  at  Alva's  appointment  and  of  the  world.— ED.  J 
Philip's  pretended  change  of  purpose  as  to  his 


454  DON  CARLOS. 

appear  together  and  take  the  sacrament  in  public.  Carlos,  in  order  to  prepare 
for  this,  on  the  preceding  evening  went  to  the  church  of  St.  Jerome,  to  confess 
and  receive  absolution.  But  the  confessor,  when  he  heard  the  strange  avowal 
of  his  murderous  appetite,  refused  to  grant  absolution.  Carlos  applied  to  an- 
other ecclesiastic,  but  with  as  little  success.  In  vain  he  endeavoured  to  argue 
the  case.  They  recommended  him  to  send  for  more  learned  divines  and  take 
their  opinion.  He  did  so  forthwith  ;  and  no  less  than  fourteen  monks  from 
the  convent  of  Our  Lady  of  Atocha,  and  two  from  another  quarter,  were 
brought  together  to  settle  this  strange  point  of  casuistry.  Greatly  shocked, 
they  were  unanimous  in  then:  opinion  that,  under  the  circumstances,  absolution 
could  not  be  granted.  Carlos  next  inquired  whether  he  might  not  be  allowed 
to  receive  an  unconsecrated  wafer,  which  would  obviate  the  scandal  that  his 
omitting  to  take  the  sacrament  would  infallibly  occasion  in  the  court.  The 
reverend  body  were  thrown  into  fresh  consternation  by  this  proposal.  The 
prior  of  Atocha,  who  was  among  the  number,  wishing  to  draw  from  Carlos 
the  name  of  his  enemy,  told  him  tliat  this  intelligence  might  possibly  have 
some  influence  on  the  judgment  of  the  divines.  The  prince  replied  that  "  his 
father  was  the  person,  and  that  he  wished  to  have  his  life  !  4*  The  prior 
calmly  inquired  if  any  one  was  to  aid  him  in  the  designs  against  his  father. 
But  Carlos  only  repeated  his  former  declaration ;  and  two  hours  after  midnight 
the  conclave  broke  up,  in  unspeakable  dismay.  A  messenger  was  despatched 
to  the  Bscorial,  where  the  king  then  was,  to  acquaint  him  with  the  whole 
aftair.46 

Such  is  the  report  of  the  ayuda  de  camara,  who  says  he  was  in  attendance 
on  the  prince  that  night.  The  authority  is  better  for  some  parts  of  the  story 
than  for  others.  There  is  nothing  very  improbable  in  the  supposition  that 
Carlos — whose  thoughts,  as  we  have  seen,  lay  very  near  the  surface — should 
have  talked  in  the  wild  way  reported  of  him,  to  his  attendants.  But  that  he 
should  have  repeated  to  others  what  had  been  drawn  from  him  so  cunningly 
by  the  prior,  or  that  this  appalling  secret  should  have  been  whispered  within 
earshot  of  the  attendants,  is  difficult  to  believe.  It  matters  little,  however, 
since,  whichever  way  we  take  the  story,  it  savours  so  much  of  downright 
madness  in  the  prince  as  in  a  manner  to  relieve  him  from  moral  responsibility. 

By  the  middle  of  January,  1568,  the  prince's  agent  had  returned,  bringing 
with  him  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  ducats.  It  was  not  more  than  a  fourth 
of  the  amount  he  had  demanded.  But  it  answered  for  the  present,  and  the 
remainder  he  proposed  to  have  sent  after  him  in  bills  of  exchange.47  Having 
completed  his  preparations,  he  communicated  his  intentions  to  his  uncle,  Don 
John,  and  besought  him  to  accompany  him  in  his  flight  But  the  latter,  after 
fruitlessly  expostulating  with  his  kinsman  on  the  folly  of  his  proceeding,  left 
Madrid  for  the  Escorial,  where  he  doubtless  reported  the  aflair  to  the  king, 
his  brother. 

On  the  seventeenth,  Carlos  sent  an  order  to  Don  Ramon  de  Tassis,  the 
director-general  of  the  posts,  to  have  eight  horses  in  readiness  for  him  that 
evening.  Tassis,  suspecting  all  was  not  right,  returned  an  answer  that  the 
horses  were  out.  On  the  prince  repeating  his  orders  in  a  more  peremptory 

48  "  Pero  el  Prior  le  engano,  con  pereuadirle  "  "  Ya  avia  llegado  de  Sevilla  Garcl  Alvarez 

dixese  cual  fuese  el  hombre,  por  que  seria  Osorio  con  ciento  y  cincuenta  mil  escudos  de 

possible  poder  dispensar  conforms  a  la  satis-  los  selscientos  mil  que  le  avia  embiado  a 

faccion,  que  S.  A.  pudiese  tomar,  y  entoncea  buscar  y  proveer :  y  que  assi  ee  apercibiesse 

dixo,  que  era  el  Rey  su  Padre  con  qulen  estaba  para  partir  en  la  noche  siguiente  pues  la  rest* 

mal,  y  le  havia  de  matar."  De  la  Prision  y  le  remitirian  en  polizas  en  saliendo  de  la 

Muerte  del  Principe  Don  Carlos,  MS.  Corte."  Vanderhammen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria, 

•"  ibid.  fol.  40. 


HIS  ARREST.  455 

manner,  the  postmaster  sent  all  the  horses  out,  and  proceeded  himself  in  all 
haste  to  the  EscoriaL48 

The  king  was  not  long  in  taking  his  measures.  Some  days  previous,  "  this 
very  religious  prince,"  says  the  papal  nuncio,  "  according  to  his  wont,  had 
caused  prayers  to  be  put  up,  in  the  different  monasteries,  for  the  guidance  of 
Heaven  in  an  aitair  of  great  moment." 49  Such  prayers  might  have  served 
as  a  warning  to  Carlos.  But  it  was  too  late  for  warnings.  Philip  now  pro- 
ceeded, without  loss  of  time,  to  Madrid,  where  those  who  beheld  him  in  the 
audience-chamber  on  the  morning  of  the  eighteenth  saw  no  sign  of  the  coming 
storm  in  the  serenity  of  his  countenance. *•  That  morning  he  attended  mass 
in  public,  with  the  members  of  the  royal  family.  -  After  the  services,  Don 
John  visited  Carlos  in  his  apartment,  when  the  prince,  shutting  the  doors, 
demanded  of  his  uncle  the  subject  of  his  conversation  with  the  king  at  the 
Escorial.  Don  John  evaded  the  questions  as  well  as  he  could,  till  Carlos, 
heated  by  his  suspicions,  drew  his  sword  and  attacked  his  uncle,  who,  retreat- 
ing, with  his  baclc  to  the  door,  called  loudly  on  the  prince  to  desist,  and  threw 
himself  into  a  posture  of  defence.  The  noise  made  bv  the  skirmish  fortunately 
drew  the  notice  of  the  attendants,  who,  rushing  in,  enabled  Don  John  to 
retreat,  and  Carlos  withdrew  in  sullen  silence  to  his  chamber.51 

The  prince,  it  seems,  had  for  some  time  felt  himself  insecure  in  his  father's 
palaca  He  slept  with  as  many  precautions  as  a  highwayman,  with  his  sword 
and  dagger  by  his  side,  and  a  loaded  musket  within  reach,  ready  at  any 
moment  for  action."  For  further  security,  he  had  caused  an  ingenious  artisan 
to  construct  a  bolt  in  such  a  way  that  by  means  of  pulleys  he  could  fasten  or 
unfasten  the  door  of  his  chamber  while  in  bed.  With  such  precautions,  it 
would  be  a  perilous  thing  to  invade  the  slumbers  of  a  desperate  man  like 
Carlos.  But  Philip  was  aware  of  the  difficulties ;  and  he  ordered  the  me- 
chanic to  derange  the  machinery  so  that  it  should  not  work  ;  and  thus  the 
door  was  left  without  the  usual  means  of  securing  it."  The  rest  is  told  by 
the  ayuda  de  cdmara  above  mentioned,  who  was  on  duty  that  night  and 
supped  in  the  palace. 

It  was  about  eleven  o'clock,  on  the  evening  of  the  eighteenth,  when  he 
observed  the  king  coming  downstairs,  wearing  armour  over  his  clothes,  and 
his  head  protected  by  a  helmet.  He  was  accompanied  by  the  duke  of  Feria, 
captain  of  the  guard,  with  four  or  five  other  lords,  and  twelve  privates  of  the 
guard.  The  king  ordered  the  valet  to  shut  the  door  and  allow  no  one  to 
enter.  The  nobles  and  the  guard  then  passed  into  the  prince's  chamber  ;  and 
the  duke  of  Feria,  stealing  softly  to  the  head  of  the  beu,  secured  a  sword  and 

"  Vanderharomen.  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  travagances."    Letter  of  Fonrqnevanlx,  Feb- 

fol.  40. — Cabrera,   Fillpe  Segundo,  lib.   Til.  ruary  5th,  1568,  ap.  Raiuner.  Sixteenth  and 

cap.  22.  Seventeenth  Centuries,  vol.  i.  p.  138. 

•'  "Sono  molti    giorni  che  stando  il   R6  *'  Letter  of   Fourquevaulx,   ubi  supra. — 

fuorl  <-om.iii<lo   xegretamente  che  si   facetiae  Relation  del  Ayuda  de  Camara,  MS. 

fare  oration!  in  alcuni  monagterii,  accio  nostro  "  Relacion  del  Ayuda  de  C'aniara,  MS. — 

Signore  Dio  indrizzasse  bene  et  felicrmente  Lottera  di  Nobili,  Gennaio  21,  1668,  MS.-De 

un  grand  negotio,  che  si  U  offi-riva.     Questo  Thou,  taking  bin  account  from  the  architect 

e  costume  di  questo  Prencipe  veramente  molto  I-ouis  de  Foix,  has  provided  Carlos  with  still 

religioso,  quando  li  occorre  qualche  cosa  da  more   formidable    means    of  defence:    "Co 

esscguire,  che  sia  Important?."    Lettera  del  Prince  inquiet  ne  dormoit  point,  qu'il  n'eut 

Nunzio.  24  di  Gennaio,  156)4,  MS.  sous  son  cbevet  deux  ipees   nu<-   et  deux 

••  "On  the  next  day,  when  I  was  present  at  pi.-lolets  cbargez.     II  avoit  encore  dans  u 

the  audience,   he  appeared   with   as  good  a  ganterobe  deux  arquebuses  avec  de  la  poudre 

countenance  as  usual,  although  he  was  already  ct  des  balles,  toujours  pretes  a  tirer."    liist. 

deiennined  in  the  same  night  to  lay  hands  on  universelle,  torn.  v.  p.  439. 

hi*  "on.  and  no  longer  t»  put  un  with  or  con-  "    Ibid.,  ubi  supra, 
ceal  bis  follies  and  more  than  youthful  ex- 


456  DON  CARLOS 

dagger  which  lay  there,  as  well  as  a  musket  loaded  with  two  balls.  Carlos, 
roused  by  the  noise,  started  up,  and  demanded  who  was  there.  The  duke, 
having  got  possession  of  the  weapons,  replied,  "  It  is  the  council  of  state." 
Carlos,  on  hearing  this,  leaped  from  his  bed,  and,  uttering  loud  cries  and 
menaces,  endeavoured  to  seize  his  arms.  At  this  moment,  Philip,  who  had 
prudently  deferred  his  entrance  till  the  weapons  were  mastered,  came  forward, 
and  bade  his  son  return  to  bed  and  remain  quiet.  The  prince  exclaimed, 
"What  does  your  majesty  want  of  me?"  "You  will  soon  learn,"  said  his 
father,  and  at  the  same  time  ordered  the  windows  and  doors  to  be  strongly 
secured,  and  the  keys  of  the  latter  to  be  delivered  to  him.  All  the  furnituie 
of  the  room,  with  which  Carlos  could  commit  any  violence,  even  the  andirons, 
were  removed.44  The  king,  then  turning  to  Feria,  told  nim  that  "  he  com- 
mitted the  prince  to  his  especial  charge,  and  that  he  must  guard  him  well." 
Addressing  next  the  other  nobles,  he  directed  them  "  to  serve  the  prince  with 
all  proper  respect,  but  to  execute  none  of  his  orders  without  first  reporting 
them  to  himself ;  finally,  to  guard  him  faithfully,  under  penalty  of  being  held 
as  traitors." 

At  these  words  Carlos  exclaimed,  "  Your  majesty  had  better  kill  me  than 
keep  me  a  prisoner.  It  will  be  a  great  scandal  to  tne  kingdom.  If  you  do  not 
kill  me,  I  will  make  away  with  myself."  "  You  will  do  no  such  thing,"  said 
the  king,  "  for  that  would  be  the  act  of  a  madman."  "  Your  majesty,"  re- 
plied Carlos,  "  treats  me  so  ill  that  you  force  me  to  this  extremity.  I  am  not 
mad,  but  you  drive  me  to  despair ! "  **  Other  words  passed  between  the 
monarch  and  his  son,  whose  voice  was  so  broken  by  sobs  as  to  be  scarcely 
audible.46 

Haying  completed  his  arrangements,  Philip,  after  securing  a  coffer  which 
contained  the  prince's  papers,  withdrew  from  the  apartment.  That  night,  the 
duke  of  Feria,  the  count  of  Lerma,  and  Don  Rodngo  de  Mendoza,  eldest  son 
of  Ruy  Gomez,  remained  in  the  prince's  chamber.  Two  lords,  out  of  six  named 
for  the  purpose,  performed  the  same  duty  in  rotation  each  succeeding  night. 
From  respect  to  the  prince,  none  of  them  were  allowed  to  wear  their  swords  in 
his  presence.  His  meat  was  cut  up  before  it  was  brought  into  his  chamber,  as 
he  was  allowed  no  knife  at  his  meals.  The  prince's  attendants  were  all  dis- 
missed, and  most  of  them  afterwards  provided  for  in  the  service  of  the  king. 
A  guard  of  twelve  halberdiers  was  stationed  in  the  passages  leading  to  the 
tower  in  which  the  apartment  of  Carlos  was  situated.  Thus  all  communica- 
tion from  without  was  cut  off;  and,  as  he  was  unable  to  look  from  his  strongly 
barricaded  windows,  the  unhappy  prisoner  from  that  time  remained  as  dead  to 
the  world  as  if  he  had  been  buried  in  the  deepest  dungeon  of  Simancas. 

The  following  day,  the  king  called  the  members  of  his  different  councils 
together,  and  informed  them  of  the  arrest  of  his  son,  declaring  that  nothing 
but  his  duty  to  God,  and  the  welfare  of  the  monarchy,  could  have  moved  him 
to  such  an  act.  The  tears,  according  to  one  present,  filled  his  eyes  as  he  made 
this  avowal*7 

"  "Cos!  S.  M«»  fefce  Ipvare  tntte  1'anni,  et  mal."    Relacion  del  Aynda  de  Caroara,  MS. 
tutti  i  ferri  sino  a  gli  alari  di  quella  camera,  5>  "  Eras!  di  gia  tomato  nel  letto  11  Principe 

et  conficcare  le  fiuestre."    Lettera  di  Nobili,  usando  niolte  parole  fuor  di  proposito :   le 

Gennaio  21,  1568,  .MS.  quali  non  furno  asverttite  come  dette  quasi 

**  ••  Aqui  alco  el  principe  grandes  bozes  singhiozzando."     Lettera  di  Nobili,  Gennaio 

diziendo.  mateuie  Vra  Md  y  no  me  prenda  25,  1568,  MS. 

porque  es  granite  escandalo  para  el  reyno  y  "  "  Y  a  cada  uno  de  por  si  con  lagrimas 

Rino  yo  me  mat  are.  al  qual  respondio  el  rey  (Begun  me  ha  certificado  quien  lo  vio)  lesdaha 

que  no  lo  hiciere  que  era  cosa  de  loco,  y  »•!  cut-nta  de  la  priseion  del  Principe  su  hijo." 

principe  respondio  no  lo  hare  como  loco  sino  Relacion  del  Ayuda  de  Camara,  MS. 
como  UesesjitTudo  pues  Vra  M<1  me  trata  tan 


CAUSES  OF  HIS  IMPRISONMENT.  457 

He  then  summoned  his  council  of  state,  and  commenced  a  process  against 
the  prisoner.  His  affliction  did  not  prevent  him  from  being  present  all  the 
while  and  listening  to  the  testimony,  which,  when  reduced  to  writing,  formed 
a  heap  of  paper  half  a  foot  in  thickness.  Such  is  the  account  given  of  this 
extraordinary  proceeding  by  the  ayuda  de  cdmaraf* 


CHAPTER  VIL 

DEATH  OP  DON  CARLOS. 

Cannes  of  his  Imprisonment — His  Rigorous  Confinement — His  Excesses — His  Death— Llorente's 
Account— Various  Accounts — Suspicious  Circumstances — Quarrel  in  the  Palace — Obsequies 
of  Carlos. 

1568. 

THE  arrest  of  Don  Carlos  caused  a  great  sensation  throughout  the  country, 
much  increased  by  the  mysterious  circumstances  which  had  attended  it  The 
wildest  rumours  were  afloat  as  to  the  cause.  Some  said  the  prince  had  medi- 
tated a  design  against  his  father's  life  ;  others,  that  he  had  conspired  against 
that  of  Ruv  Gomez.  Some  said  that  he  was  plotting  rebellion,  and  had  taken 
part  with  the  Flemings  ;  others  suspected  him  of  heresy.  Many  took  still  a 
different  view  of  the  matter, — censuring  the  father  rather  than  the  son. 
"  His  dagger  followed  close  upon  his  smile,"  says  the  historian  of  Philip : 
"hence  some  called  him  wise,  others  severe."1  Carlos,  they  said,  never  a 
favourite,  might  have  been  rash  in  his  thoughts  and  words  ;  but  he  had  done 
no  act  which  should  have  led  a  father  to  deal  with  his  son  so  harshly.  But 
princes  were  too  apt  to  be  jealous  of  their  successors.  They  distrusted  the 
bold  and  generous  spirit  of  their  offspring,  whom  it  would  be  wiser  to  win  over 
by  admitting  them  to  some  reasonable  share  in  the  government.  "  But  others 
there  were,"  concludes  the  wise  chronicler  of  the  times,  "  who,  more  prudent 
than  their  neighbours,  laid  their  finger  on  their  lips,  and  were  silent."  * 

For  some  days  Philip  would  allow  no  post  to  leave  Madrid,  that  he  might  be 
the  first  to  send  intelligence  of  this  event  to  foreign  courts.1  On  the  twenty- 
fourth  he  despatched  circular  letters  to  the  great  ecclesiastics,  the  grandees, 
and  the  municipalities  of  the  chief  cities  in  the  kingdom.  They  were  vague  in 
their  import,  stating  the  fact  of  the  arrest,  and  assigning  much  the  same 
general  grounds  with  those  he  had  stated  to  the  councils.  On  the  same  day 
he  sent  despatches  to  the  principal  courts  of  Europe.*  These,  though  singu- 

**  •'  Martes  veinte  de  Enero  de  1568,  Ilam6  accuracy. 

S.   M.   ;i   »u  cfimara  .i   li*  de  el  Coneejo  de  '  "Unos  le   llamaban  prudente,  otros  se- 

Efltado,  y  estubieron  en  ellu  desde  la  una  de  la  vcro.  porque  su  risa  I  cuchillo  eran  confines." 

tarde  asta  las  nueve  de  la  noche,  no  oe  Mbe  Cabrera,  Kllipe  Segundo,  lib.  viii.  cap.  22. — 

que  ee  trata.«o,  el  Rey  hace  inforraacion,  S«-c-  These  remarkable  words  seem  to  ewape  from 

retario  de  ella  es  Oy»n,  hallase  el  Rey  pres-  Cabrera,  as  if  he  were  noticing  only  an  onli- 

•ente  al  examen  de  los  tertlgos,  ay  escripto  nery  trait  of  character. 

cast  un  feme  t-n  alto."    Relacion  del  Ayuda  *  ••  Mirahanse  los  mas  cuerdoo  sellando  la 

de  Cainara,  MS. — I  have  two  copies  of  this  boca  con  el  dedo  1  el  silencio."     Cabrera, 

interesting  MS.,  one  from  Madrid,  the  other  Filipe  Segnndo,  lib.  vil.  cap.  22. 
from    the    library    of  Sir  Tnomas   Phillips.  *  "In  questo  nieto  e  prohlbito  di  mandar 

Llorente's  translation  of  the  entire  document,  corriero  nessuno,  volendo  essere  Sua  Maeota 

in  his  Hist/iire  de  I'lnqulsitlon  (tom.  ill.  pp.  II  primo  A  dar  alii   Prenclpt  quest'  aviso." 

1&1-158),  cannot  claim  the  merit  of  scrupulous  Letters  del  Nunzio,  Gennaio  21,  1568,  MS. 

*  [These  letters  are  dated  the  20th  and  the  21st,  and  those  to  the  grandees,  the  munici- 
palities, etc.,  the  22nd.— Eu.} 


458  DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 

larly  vague  and  mysterious  in  their  language,  were  more  pregnant  with 
suggestions,  at  least,  than  the  letters  to  Ins  subjects.  The  most  curious,  on 
the  whole,  and  the  one  that  gives  the  best  insight  into  his  motives,  is  the 
letter  he  addressed  to  his  aunt,  the  queen  of  Portugal.  She  was  sister  to  the 
emperor  his  father,— an  estimable  lady,  whom  Philip  had  always  held  in  great 
respect. 

"  Although,"  he  writes,  "  it  has  long  been  obvious  that  it  was  necessary  to 
take  some  order  in  regard  to  the  prince,  yet  the  feelings  of  a  father  have  led 
me  to  resort  to  all  other  means  before  proceeding  to  extremity.  But  affairs 
have  at  length  come  to  such  a  pass  that,  to  fulfil  the  duty  which,  as  a  Christian 
prince,  I  owe  both  to  God  and  to  my  realm,  I  have  been  compelled  to  place  my 
son  in  strict  confinement.  Thus  have  I  been  willing  to  sacrifice  to  God  my  own 
flash  and  blood,  preferring  his  service  and  the  welfare  of  my  people  to  all 
human  considerations.4  I  will  only  add  that  this  determination  has  not  been 
brought  about  by  any  misconduct  on  the  part  of  my  son,  or  by  any  want  of 
respect  to  me ;  nor  is  this  treatment  of  him  intended  by  way  of  chastisement, 
— for  that,  however  just  the  grounds  of  it,  would  have  its  time  and  its  limit.4 
Neither  have  I  resorted  to  it  as  an  expedient  for  reforming  his  disorderly 
life.  The  proceeding  rests  altogether  on  another  foundation ;  and  the 
remedy  I  propose  is  not  one  either  of  time  or  experience,  but  is  of  the  greatest 
moment,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  to  satisfy  my  obligations  to  God  and  my 
people."  • 

In  the  same  obscure  strain  Philip  addressed  Zuniga,  his  ambassador  at  the 
papal  court, — saying  that,  "although  the  disobedience  which  Carlos  had  shown 
through  life  was  sufficient  to  justify  any  demonstration  of  severity,  yet  it  was 
not  this;  but  the  stern  pressure  of  necessity,  that  could  alone  have  driven  him 
to  deal  in  this  way  with  his  first-born,  his  only  son." 7 

4  "  En  fin  yo  he  querido  hacer  en  esta  este  negocio  otro  principle  y  razon,  cuyo  re- 
parte  sacriiicio  a  Dios  de  mi  propia  came  y  medio  no  consiste  en  tiempo,  ni  medios ;  y 
saugre  y  preferir  BU  servicio  y  el  bien  y  bene-  que  es  de  mayor  importancia  y  consideration 
ficio  publico  a  las  otras  consideraciones  bu-  para  satisfacer  yo  ii  la  dicba  obligacion  que 
manas."  Traslado  de  la  Carta  que  su  ma-  tengoa  I  >ios  nuestro  senor  y  a  los  dichos  mis 
gestad  escrivio  6.  la  Reyna  de  Portugal  sobre  Reynos."  Traslado  de  la  Carta  de  su  ma- 
la prision  del  Principe  su  hijo,  20  de  Euero,  gestad  &  la  Reyna  de  Portugal,  MS. 
1568,  MS.  '  "  Pues  aunque  es  verdad  que  en  el  discurso 

*  "  Solo  me  ha  parecido  abora  advertir  que  de  su  vida  y  trato  haya  babido  ocasion  de 
el  fundamento  de  esta  mi  determination  no  alguna  desobediencia  6  desacato  que  pudieran 
depende  de  culpa,  ni  inovediencia,  ni  desa-  justificar  qualquiera  demostracion,  esto  no  me 
cato,  ni  es  enderezada  a  castigo,  que  aunque  obligaria  a  llegar  a  tan  estrecho  puuto.     La 
para  este  havia  la  muy  suficiente  materia,  necesidad  y  conveniencia  ban  producido  las 
pudiera  tener  su  tiempo  y  su  tennino."   ibid.  causas  que  me  ban  movido  muy  urgentes  y 

•  "  Ni  tampoco  lo  he  tornado  por  medio,  precisas  con  mi   hijo  primogenito  y  solo." 
teniendo  esperanza  que  por  este  camino  so  Carta  del  Rey  &  su  Embajador  en  Roma,  22  de 
reforruaruu  sus  excesos  y  desordenes.    Tiene  Enero,  1568,  MS.* 


*  [Of  the  other  letters  written  by  Philip  at  as  to  make  necessary  the  course  pursued, 

this  time,  one  to  the  duke  of  Alva,  dated  the  After  the  usual  account  of  the  motives,  as  not 

23rd,  begins  with  the  remark, "  You  are  so  well  proceeding  from  any  personal  outrage  to  him- 

acquainted  with  the  character  and  disposition  self,  he  charges  Alva  not  to  communicate  to 

of  the  prince  my  son,  and  with  his  mode  of  anyone  the  ground  of  the  business,  or  the  end 

acting,  that  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  enlarge  to  which  it  is  directed.     In  a  later  letter,  dated 

much  upon  the  matter  to  you  in  order  to  April  6th,  Philip  declines  to  give  a  more 

justify  what  has  been  done,  or  that  you  may  explicit  declaration,  as  the  duke  bad  recom- 

understand  the  end  which  is  proposed."    He  mended,  of  the  causes  which  had. determined 

then  speaks  of  things  having  gone  so  far  since  his  action.    For  Alva's  own  satisfactiun.be 

Alva's  departure,  and  of  particular  and  im-  says,  this  cannot    be    necessary,   since    his 

portant  acts  carried  to  such  an  extent  ("  in-  knowledge  of  the  prince's  nature,  condition, 

wrvenido  actos  tan  pai  ticulares  y  de  tanta  and  conduct  would  enable  him,  with  the  inti- 

consideracion,  y  llegadose  a  tales  terminos  "),  mutions  already  given,  to  inter  the  ground  and 


CAUSES  OF  HIS   IMPRISONMENT.  459 

This  ambiguous  language— implying  that  the  imprisonment  of  Carlo-?  was 
not  occasioned  by  his  own  misconduct,  and  yet  that  the  interests  of  religion 
and  the  safety  of  the  state  both  demanded  his  perpetual  imprisonment — may 
l)e  thought  to  intimate  that  the  cause  referred  to  could  be  no  other  than 
insanity.  This  was  plainly  stated  by  the  prince  of  Eboli,  in  a  communication 
which,  by  the  king's  order,  he  made  to  the  French  minister,  Forquevaulx. 
The  king,  Gomez  said,  had  for  three  years  past  perceived  that  the  prince's 
head  was  the  weakest  part  of  him,  and  that  he  was  at  no  time  in  complete 
possession  of  his  understanding.  He  had  been  silent  on  the  matter,  trusting 
that  time  would  bring  some  amendment.  But  it  had  only  made  things  worse ; 
and  he  saw  with  sorrow  that  to  commit  the  sceptre  to  his  son's  hands  would 
be  to  bring  inevitable  misery  on  his  subjects  and  ruin  on  the  state.  With 
unspeakable  anguish,  he  had  therefore  resolved,  after  long  deliberation,  to 
place  his  son  under  constraint.8 

This  at  least  is  intelligible,  and  very  different  from  Philip's  own  despatches, 
— where  it  strikes  us  as  strange,  if  insanity  were  the  true  ground  of  the 
arrest,  that  it  should  be  covered  up  under  such  vague  and  equivocal  language, 
with  the  declaration,  moreover,  usually  made  in  his  letters,  that  "  at  some  future 
time  he  would  explain  the  matter  more  fully  to  the  parties."  One  might  have 
thought  that  the  simple  plea  of  insanity  would  have  been  directly  given,  as 
furnishing  the  best  apology  for  the  son,  and  at  the  same  time  vindicating  the 
father  for  imposing  a  wholesome  restraint  upon  his  person.*  But,  in  point  of 
fact,  the  excessive  rigour  of  the  confinement,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  see, 
savoured  much  more  of  the  punishment  dealt  out  to  some  high  offender  than  of 
the  treatment  of  an  unfortunate  lunatic.  Neither  is  it  probable  that  a  crimi- 
nal process  would  have  been  instituted  against  one  who  by  his  very  infirmity 
was  absolved  from  all  moral  responsibility. 

There  are  two  documents,  either  of  which,  should  it  ever  be  brought  to 
light,  would  probably  unfold  the  true  reasons  of  the  arrest  of  Carlos.  The 
Spanish  ambassador,  Zuniga,  informed  Philip  that  the  pope,  dissatisfied  with 
the  account  which  he  had  given  of  the  transaction,  desired  a  further  explana- 
tion of  it  from  his  majesty.'  This,  from  such  a  source,  was  nearly  equivalent 
to  a  command.  For  Philip  had  a  peculiar  reverence  for  Pius  the  Fifth, 
the  pope  of  the  Inquisition,  who  was  a  pontiff  after  his  own  heart.  The  king 
is  said  never  to  have  passed  by  the  portrait  of  his  holiness,  which  hung  on  the 
walls  of  the  palace,  without  taking  oft'  his  hat."  He  at  once  wrote  a  letter  to 
the  pope  containing  a  full  account  of  the  transaction.  It  was  written  in 

•  Letter  of  Fourquevaulx,  ap.  Raumer,  Six-        la  verdad."    Carta  de  Zufiiga  al  Rey,  28  de 
teenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  vol.  i.  p.        Abril,  1568,  MS. 

136.  '•  Lore*.  Vida  de  Plo  Qulnto  (Valladolid, 

•  "Querriael  Papa  saber porcartade  V.  M.        1713),  p.  131. 


the  object,  and  to  understand  that  as  the  one  such  rumours,  both  as  injurious  to  the  prince's 

could  uot  be  removed  by  any  temporary  ex-  honour  and  as  utterly  at  variance  with  thfl 

p«-  Unit,  so  the  other  was  intended  to  be  a  true  truth,  and  devoid  uf  all  foundation.    Uachnrd, 

and  complete  remedy,  and  to  obviate  the  mis-  Iton  Carlos  et  I'hilippe  II.,  torn,  ii.,  Appendicc 

chiefs  that  would  otherwise  ensue  both  during  B. — ED.] 

the  king's  lifetime  and  after  his  decease.    A«  *  [It  can  hardly  be  donbted  that   Philip 

to  the  opinion  of  the  world,  it  was  not  doomed  wished  this  plea  to  be  inferred  from  the  lan- 

advlsable  10  publish  any  further  statement  at  guage  of  his  letters,  while  there  were  obvious 

present  with  the  view  of  rectifying  that,  but,  reasons  why  he  should  not  publicly  state  it 

as  It  was  probable  that  the  heretics  and  rebels  In  direct  terms.     His  own   expressions,  on 

would   se<*k   to  strengthen    their    cause    by  occasions  mentioned  in  subsequent  notes,  weie 

alleging  that  Carlos  was  suspected  of  a  defec-  very  similar  to  those  of  Kuy  Oomez  In  Hie 

tlun  from  the  faith,  or  <>f  treasonable  designs,  conversation  referred  to  in  the  text.— Eu.j 
Alva  was,  in  this  case,  to  endeavour  to  stifle 


4CO 


DEATH  OP  DON  CARLOS. 


cipher,*  with  the  recommendation  that  it  should  be  submitted  to  Granvelle, 
then  in  Rome,  if  his  holiness  could  not  interpret  it.11  This  letter  is  doubtless 
in  the  Vatican.t 

The  other  document  is  the  process.  The  king,  immediately  after  the  arrest 
of  his  son,  appointed  a  special  commission  to  try  him.  It  consisted  of  Car- 
dinal Espinosa,  the  prince  of  Eboli,  and  a  royal  councillor,  Bribiesca  de  Mima- 
tones,  who  was  appointed  to  prepare  the  indictment.  The  writings  containing 
the  memorable  process  instituted  by  Philip's  ancestor,  John  the  Second  of 
Aragon,  against  nis  amiable  and  unfortunate  son,  who  also  bore  the  name  of 
Carlos,  had  been  obtained  from  the  archives  of  Barcelona.  They  were  trans- 
lated from  the  Catalan  into  Castilian,  and  served  for  the  ominous  model  for 
the  present  proceedings,  which  took  the  form  of  a  trial  for  high  treason.  In 
conducting  this  singular  prosecution,  it  does  not  appear  that  any  counsel  or 
evidence  appeared  on  behalf  of  the  prisoner,  although  a  formidable  amount  of 
testimony,  it  would  seem,  was  collected  on  the  other  side.  But,  in  truth,  we 
know  little  of  the  proceedings.  There  is  no  proof  that  any  but  the  monarch, 
and  the  secret  tribunal  that  presided  over  the  trial, — if  so  it  can  be  called, — 
ever  saw  the  papers.  In  1592,  according  to  the  historian  Cabrera,  they  were 
deposited,  by  Philip's  orders,  in  a  green  box,  strongly  secured,  in  the  Archives 
of  Simancas,1* — where,  as  we  have  no  later  information,  they  may  still  remain, 
to  reward  the  labours  of  some  future  antiquary.13 


1 '  In  the  Archives  of  Simancas  Is  a  depart- 
ment known  as  the  Patronato,  or  family 
papers,  consisting  of  very  curious  documents, 
of  so  private  a  nature  as  to  render  them  par- 
ticularly difficult  of  access.  In  this  depart- 
ment is  deposited  the  correspondence  of 
Zuniga,  which,  with  other  documents  in  the 
same  collection,  has  furnished  me  with  some 
pertinent  extracts. 


"  "  Estan  en  el  archive  de  Simancas,  donde 
en  el  aflo  mil  1  quinientos  i  noventa  i  dos  los 
metio  don  Cristoval  de  Mora  de  su  Camara 
en  un  cofrecillo  verdeen  que  se  conservan." 
Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vii.  cap.  22. 

13  It  is  currently  reported,  as  I  am  informed, 
among  the  scholars  of  Madrid  that  in  1828 
Ferdinand  the  Seventh  caused  the  papers  con- 
taining the  original  process  of  Carlos,  with 


*  [This  is  a  mistake :  the  pope  had  little 
acquaintance  with  Spanish,  and  Zuniga,  in 
handing  him  the  letter,  requested  him,  if  he 
wished  to  have  it  translated  into  Italian,  to 
employ  Gianvelle  for  this  purpose,  which  was 
done. — Eu.J 

f  [This  letter,  which,  as  M.  Gachard  re- 
marks, was  expected,  from  the  terms  in  which 
it  is  mentioned  by  Philip  himself,  writing  to 
Zuniga,  to  "raise  all  the  veils,"  has  come  to 
light,  through  the  discovery  that  a  Latin 
translation  of  it  had  been  published  (or  rather 
buried)  in  the  twenty-third  volume  of  the 
Annalesecclesiasticiof  Laderchi(Rome,  1733, 
ful.),  that  historian  having  found  the  original 
among  the  papers  of  Cardinal  Alessandrino, 
secretary  of  state  to  Pius  V.  It  bears  the  date 
of  May  13th.  Aft«-r  asser.ing  his  readi'.ess  to 
repose  unlimited  confidence  in  his  holiness, 
as  in  a  true  parent,  Philip  proceeds  to  give 
what  he  calls  a  clearer  account  of  theprocei<l- 
ing,  from  which  there  would  be  no  difficulty 
in  understanding  its  cause  and  object.  He 
had  often  meditated,  he  says,  on  the  burden 
which  God  had  imposed  upon  him  in  com- 
mitting to  him  the  rule  and  administration 
of  so  many  states  and  kingdoms,  that  he 
might  maintain  them  in  order  and  peace,  in 
conformity  to  the  orthodox  faith  and  obedi- 


ence to  the  holy  see,  and  transmit  them,  after 
his  brief  course,  in  security  and  peace  to  hia 
successor,  on  whom  their  further  preservation 
would  depend;  but  in  punishment  for  bis  sins 
it  had  pleased  God  that  his  son  should  have 
so  many  and  so  great  defects,  partly  of  intel- 
lect, partly  of  natural  character,  as  to  be 
destitute  of  all  fitness  for  the  post;  and  as 
all  other  remedie*  and  exiiedients  had  proved 
vain,  it  had  been  found  necessary  at  last,  in 
view  of  the  grave  inconveniences  to  be  appre- 
hended if  the  succession  were  to  devolve  upon 
him,  to  incarcerate  him,  and  then  to  deliberate 
fun  her,  in  accordance  with  circumstances, 
how  the  king's  end  could  be  attained  without 
his  incurring  blame.  This  luminous  exposi- 
tion is  followed  by  an  earnest  entreaty  that 
the  pope  will  not  divulge  any  of  the  particu- 
lars contained  in  it,  and  with  the  reiterated 
declaration  that  the  prince  had  not  been  guilty 
of  rebellion  or  heresy.  In  presenting  this 
letter  Zuniga  was  ordered,  if  the  pope  should 
make  further  inquiries,  to  excuse  himself  from 
entering  into  details.  Pius,  however,  who 
was  a  person  of  few  words  when  not  forced 
into  discussion,  contented  himself  with  some 
expressions  of  condolence.  Gachani,  Don 
Carlos  et  Philippe  II.,  toui.  ii.— ED.] 


CAUSES  OF  HIS  IMPRISONMENT. 


461 


In  default  of  these  documents,  we  must  resort  to  conjecture  for  the  solution 
of  this  difficult  problem  ;  and  there  are  several  circumstances  which  may 
assist  us  in  arriving  at  a  conclusion.  Among  the  foreign  ministers  at  that 
time  at  the  court  of  Madrid,  none  took  more  pains  to  come  at  the  truth  of  this 
aliair — as  his  letters  abundantly  prove — than  the  papal  nuncio,  Castaneo, 
archbishop  of  Rossano.  He  was  a  shrewd,  sagacious  prelate,  whose  position 
and  credit  at  the  court  gave  him  the  best  opportunities  for  information.  By 
Philip's  command,  Cardinal  Espinosa  gave  tne  nuncio  the  usual  explanation 
of  the  grounds  on  which  Carlos  had  been  arrested.  "  It  is  a  strange  story," 
said  the  nuncio,  "  that  which  we  everywhere  hear,  of  the  prince's  plot  against 
his  father's  life."  "  It  would  be  of  little  moment,"  replied  the  cardinal,  "  if 
the  danger  to  the  king  were  all ;  as  it  would  be  easy  to  protect  his  person. 
But  the  present  case  is  worse, — if  worse  can  be ;  and  the  King,  who  lias  seen 
the  bad  course  which  his  son  has  taken  for  these  two  years  past,  has  vainly 
tried  to  remedy  it ;  till,  finding  himself  unable  to  exercise  any  control  over 
the  hair-brained  young  man,  he  has  been  forced  to  this  expedient."  " 

Now,  in  the  judgment  of  a  grand  inquisitor,  it  would  probably  be  thought 


some  other  documents,  to  be  taken  from 
Kiuiancas ;  but  whither  they  were  removed  is 
not  known.  Nor  since  that  monarch's  death 
have  any  tidings  been  heard  of  them.* 

"  "Kipose  ciie  questo  saria  el  manco,  per- 
c'.e  se  non  fosse  stapo  altro  i>eriit>lo  che  della 
persona  del  He  si  saria  gnardata,  et  rimediato 


altramente,  ma  che  ci  era  peggio,  si  peggio  puo 
essere,  al  che  sua  Maesta  ha  cercato  per  ogni 
via  di  rimediare  due  anni  continui,  perche  ve- 
deva  pigliarli  la  mala  via,  ma  non  ha  mat 
potuto  fermare  ne  regolare  questocervello,  fin 
che  e  bisognati)  arrivare  a  questo."  Letter* 
del  Nunzio.  Gennaio  24,  156s,  MS. 


*  [A  rumour  was  long  current  in  Spain  that 
a  certain  box  at  Simancas  contained  the  so- 
called  " process"  of  I>m  Carlos.  I  his  box 
was  opened,  during  the  Frencn  occupation,  by 
order  of  General  Kellermann,  and  was  found 
to  contain  the  process  of  Don  Rodrigo  de 
Cttlderon,  marquis  of  Slete  Igiesias,  who  was 
condemned  and  executed  in  1621.  M.  Gachard 
deduces  the  conclusion  that  all  the  reports 
relating  to  the  deposit  or  removal  of  the  papers 
were  equally  unfounded.  He  doubts,  indeed, 
wh<tlier  such  papers  ever  existed,  contending 
that  no  regular  process,  with  the  object  of  dis- 
inheriting the  heir  apparent,  could  have  been 
Instituted  by  a  mere  commission,  and  that  at 
the  most  the  business  intrusted  to  Ruy  Gomez 
and  his  associates  was  to  collect  facts  and  take 
evidence  on  which  to  base  a  formal  indict- 
ment, or  ae.lt  d'accutation.  But  the  positive 
statements  of  so  well-informed  and  careful  a 
writer  as  Cabrera  are  not  to  be  lightly  set 
aside.  The  foreign  ministers  at  the  court  all 
speak.  In  their  earlier  letters,  of  the  intention 
to  institute  a  process;  and  the  papal  nuncio, 
in  a  despatch  of  March  2nd,  after  saying  that 
the  affair  of  the  prince  was  no  longer  talked 
of  at  the  court,  and  that  it  was  not  known 
that  any  charges  against  him  had  yet  been 
put  In  writing,  adds  that  it  was  nevertheless 
pr.  bable  that  this  was  being  done  secretly. 
That  a  sentence  obtained  in  this  manner  would 
have  teen,  as  M.  Gacbard  remarks,  contrary 
to  "the  mo*t  elementary  notions  of  justice  as 
well  as  to  tlie  fundamental  laws  of  Castile," 
affords  no  proof  that  the  method  would  have 
•ecmed  unsatisfactory  to  Philip,  who  was  a 


stickler  for  forms,  but  not  for  legality,  mnch 
less  justice,  in  the  execution  of  his  own  pur- 
poses. So  far  as  probabilities  are  concerned, 
the  only  question  is  whether,  in  the  present 
instance,  such  a  method  would  have  subserv?d 
his  end,  \vhi>-h  was,  as  the  whole  array  of 
evidence  shows  and  as  M.  Gachard  irresistibly 
argues,  to  dt-prive  Carlos  of  the  succession. 
But  to  attain  this  end  by  strictly  legal  means 
would  have  been  all  but  impossible.  The 
assent  of  the  cortes  of  Castile,  which  had 
sworn  allegiance  to  Carlos,  would  have  been 
requisite,  and  perhaps  the  sanction  of  a  papal 
dispensation  relieving  them  from  their  oaths. 
The  latter  might  have  been  easily  obtained  by 
•  monarch  whose  power  was  the  great  bulwark 
of  the  Church  ;  but  the  cortes,  much  as  it  was 
in  the  habit  of  yielding  to  encroachments  on 
popular  lights,  had  a  stronger  regard  for  the 
right  of  succession  to  the  thron-,  which  in- 
volved the  sarredness  of  all  other  rights  and 
the  unity  of  the  nation.  The  fact  that  Carlos 
was  an  only  son.  however  it  might  weigh  with 
Philip,  would  itself  have  been  an  insuperable 
objection  with  the  great  body  of  his  Mubjccts. 
Merely  to  have  mooted  the  mutter  in  public 
would  have  let  loose  a  storm  of  discussion 
and  opposition  which  the  king  had  from  the 
fir.-t  taken  every  precaution  to  avoid.  Yet  It 
was  necessary  that  the  acts  of  so  "  prudent " 
a  monarch  should  be  provided  in  case  of  need 
with  the  pretence  of  a  Justification;  and  it 
can  hardly  be  doubted  that  this  mockery  of  a 
prosecution  was  carried  through  with  the 
same  punctilious  observances  as  had  charac- 
terized the  case  of  Montigny.— ED.] 


462  DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 

that  heresy,  or  any  leaning  to  heresy,  was  a  crime  of  even  a  deeper  dye  than 
parricide.  The  cardinal's  discourse  made  this  impression  on  the  nuncio,  who 
straightway  began  to  cast  about  for  proofs  of  apostasy  in  Don  Carlos.  The 
Tuscan  minister  also  notices  in  his  letters  the  suspicions  that  Carlos  was  not 
a  good  Catholic.14  A  confirmation  of  this  view  of  the  matter  may  be  gathered 
from  the  remarks  of  Pius  the  Fifth  on  Philip's  letter  in  cipher,  above  noticed. 
"His  holiness,"  writes  the  Spanish  ambassador,  "greatly  lauds  the  course 
taken  by  your  majesty;  for  he  feels  that  the  preservation  of  Christianity 
depends  on  your  living  many  years,  and  on  your  having  a  successor  who  will 
tread  in  your  footsteps."  u 

But,  though  all  this  seems  to  intimate  pretty  clearly  that  the  religious 
defection  of  Carlos  was  a  predominant  motive  for  his  imprisonment,  it  is  not 
easy  to  believe  that  a  person  of  his  wayward  and  volatile  mind  could  have 
formed  any  settled  opinions  in  matters  of  faith,  or  that  his  position  would  have 
allowed  the  Reformers  such  access  to  his  person  as  to  have  greatly  exposed 
him  to  the  influence  of  their  doctrines.  Yet  it  is  quite  possible  that  he  may 
have  taken  an  interest  in  those  political  movements  abroad  which  in  the  end 
wfe/e  directed  against  the  Church.  I  allude  to  the  troubles  in  the  Low 
Countries,  which  he  is  said  to  have  looked  upon  with  no  unfriendly  eye.  It  is 
true,  there  is  no  proof  of  this,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  in  the  correspondence  of 
the  Flemish  leaders.  Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  suppose  that  Carlos  entered 
directly  into  a  correspondence  with  them  himself,  or  indeed  committed  him- 
self by  any  overt  act  in  support  of  the  cause."  But  this  was  not  necessary 
for  his  condemnation :  it  would  have  been  quite  enough  that  he  had  felt  a 
sympathy  for  the  distresses  of  the  people.  From  the  residence  of  Egmont, 
Bergen,  and  Montigny  at  the  court,  he  had  obvious  means  of  communication 
with  those  nobles,  who  may  naturally  have  sought  to  interest  him  in  behalf  of 
their  countrymen.  The  sympathy  readily  kindled  in  the  ardent  bosom  of  the 
young  prince  would  be  as  readily  expressed.  That  he  did  feel  such  a  sympathy 
may  perhaps  be  inferred  by  his  strange  conduct  to  Alva  on  the  eve  of  his 
departure  for  the  Netherlands.*  But  the  people  of  that  country  were  re- 
garded at  Madrid  as  in  actual  rebellion  against  the  crown.  The  reformed 
doctrines  which  they  avowed  gave  to  the  movement  the  character  of  a  religious 
revolution.  For  a  Spaniard  to  countenance  it  in  any  way  was  at  once  to  prove 
himself  false  both  to  his  sovereign  and  his  faith.  In  such  a  light,  we  may  be 
Cjiiite  sure,  it  would  be  viewed  both  by  Philip  and  his  minister,  the  grand 
iiiquisitor.  Nor  would  it  be  thought  any  palliation  of  the  crime  that  the 
offender  was  heir  to  the  monarchy.1* 

ls  "  Non   lascerd  perS  dl  dirle,  ch'  lo  ho  Carta  de  Zufilga,  Junto  25,  1568,  MS. 

ritratto  et  di  luogo  ragionevole,  che  si  sospetta  "  Leti  has  been  more  fortunate  in  discover- 

del  Prencipe  di  poco  Cattolico  :  et  quello,  che  Ing  a  letter  from  Don  Carlos  to  Count  Egmont, 

lo  fa  credere,  e  che  fin'  adesso  non  li  ban  fatto  found  among  the  papers  of  that  noMeman  at 

dir  messa."     Lettera  di  Nobili,  Gennaio  25,  the  time  of  his  arrest.    (Vita  di  Filippo  II., 

1568,  MS.  torn  i.  p.  543.)    The  historian  is  too  discreet 

>«  •«  El  Papa  alaba  mucho  la  determtnacion  to  vouch  for  the  authenticity  of  the  docn- 

de  V.  M.  porque  entiende  que  la  consTvacion  ment,  wh'ch  indeed  would  require  a  better 

de  la  Christiandad  depende  de  que  Dios  de  a  voucher  than  Lrti  to  obtain  our  confidence. 

V.  M.  mucbos  afios  de  vida  y  que  despues  '•  De  Castro  labours  hard  to  prove  that  Don 

tenga  tal  sucesor  que  sepa  seguir  SUB  pisaitas."  Carlos   was   a  Protestant.     If   he   fails   to 


*  [His  conduct  to  Alva  is  sufficiently  ex-  certain  that  Philip  was  not  going  in  person, 
plained  by  the  fact  that  the  appointment  of  A  pretence  was  made  of  Riving  him  a  share  in 
the  latter  bad  dashed  his  own  hopes  of  going  the  domestic  administration,  by  way  of  con- 
to  the  Netherlands,  as  the  representative  of  soling  him  for  the  disappointment;  but  it 
the  crown,— a  position  to  which  he  probably  was  soon  abandoned,  on  the  plea — very  pos- 
considered  himself  entitled  when  it  became  sibly  a  well-founded  one— that  he  threw  all 


HIS  RIGOROUS  CONFINEMENT. 


463 


As  to  a  design  on  his  father's  life,  Philip,  both  in  his  foreign  despatches  and 
in  the  communications  made  by  his  order  to  the  resident  ministers  at  Madrid, 
wholly  acquitted  Carlos  of  so  horrible  a  charge.19  If  it  had  any  foundation  in 
truth,  one  might  suppose  that  Philip,  instead  of  denying,  would  have  paraded 
it,  as  furnishing  an  obvious  apology  for  subjecting  him  to  so  rigorous  a  con- 
finement. It  is  certain,  if  Carlos  had  really  entertained  so  monstrous  a 
design,  he  might  easily  have  found  an  opportunity  to  execute  it.  That 
Philip  would  have  been  silent  in  respect  to  his  son's  sympathy  with  the 
Netherlands  may  well  be  believed.  The  great  champion  of  Catholicism  would 
naturally  shrink  from  publishing  to  the  world  that  the  taint  of  heresy  infected 
his  own  blood.* 

But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  motives  which  determined  the  conduct  of 
Philip,  one  cannot  but  suspect  that  a  deep-rooted  aversion  to  his  son  lay  at 
the  bottom  of  them.  The  dissimilarity  of  their  natures  placed  the  two  parties, 
from  the  first,  in  false  relations  to  each  other.  The  heedless  excesses  of  youth 
were  regarded  with  a  pitiless  eye  by  the  parent,  who,  in  his  own  indulgences, 
at  least  did  not  throw  aside  the  veil  of  decorum.  The  fiery  temper  of  Carlos, 
irritated  by  a  long-continued  system  of  distrust,  exclusion,  and  espionnaqe,  at 
length  broke  out  into  such  senseless  extravagances  as  belong  to  the  debatable 
ground  of  insanity.  And  this  ground  afforded,  as  already  intimated,  a  plau- 
sible footing  to  the  father  for  proceeding  to  extremities  against  the  son.* 


establish  the  f.ict,  be  must  be  allowed  to  have 
shown  that  the  prince's  conduct  was  such  as 
to  suggest  great  doubts  of  his  orthodoxy, 
among  those  who  approached  the  nearest  to 
him.  See  Historic  de  log  1'rotcstantcs  Espa- 
fioles,  p  319,  et  seq. 

"  "Sou  Maesta  ha  dato  online,  che  nelle 


Icttere,  che  si  scrivono  a  tutti  H  Prencipl  et 
Regni,  si  dica,  che  la  voce  ch'  c  uscita  ch 
1'  Prencipe  havesse  cercato  di  offendere  la  Real 
persona  sua  proprla  e  falsa,  et  questo  mede- 
Bimo  fa  dire  a  bocca  da  Ruy  Gomez  all'  Im- 
basciatori."  Lettera  del  Nunzio,  Gennaio  27, 
1508,  MS. 


the  affairs  intrusted  to  him  into  disorder. 
Gachard,  Don  Carlos  et  Philippe  II.,  torn.  ii. 
-Eo.] 

•  [The  silence  or  denial  of  Philip  in  regard 
to  eithi  r  of  toe  causes  mentioned  would  be  of 
little  weight.  If  there  were  motives  for  con- 
cealment ;  and  such  motives  obviously  existed 
in  regard  to  the  accusation  of  a  design  against 
bis  life  on  the  part  of  his  son,  as  well  as  in 
regard  to  the  imputation  of  heresy.  The  two 
charges  were,  in  fact,  closely  connected. 
Both,  if  put  forward,  would,  as  be  himself 
remarks  in  letters  already  cited,  have  been 
accepted  by  the  "  heretics  and  rebels "  as 
tending  to  strengthen  their  party.  But  in  his 
disclosures  to  Alv.i  and  to  the  pope,  which 
they  were  to  bury  in  their  own  bosoms,  Philip 
may  be  believed  to  have  written  the  troth,  so 
far  at  least  as  negations  were  concerned ;  and 
in  those  letters,  a*  has  been  seen,  be  contra- 
dicts both  allegations,  not  only  as  dishonour- 
able and  injurious,  but  as  utterly  groundless. 
-Ko.j 

f  [M.  Gachard,  referring  to  those  letter*  of 
Philip  which  be  considers  as  "  lifting  a  corner 
of  the  veil,"  expresses  the  opinion  that  an 
attentive  consideration  of  the  bints  and  denials 
they  contain  will  lead  to  the  conviction  that 
••  the  projected  flight  of  Don  Carlos  was  the 
real  and  Immediate  cause  of  bis  arrest."  The 
iininciliat-  cause,  or  pretext,  it  may  possibly 
have  been  ;  though  there  Is  not  the  remotest 


apparent  allusion  to  it  in  any  of  Philip's 
letters,  and  the  theory  would  seem  to  be 
directly  contradicted  by  the  explicit  state- 
ment, in  more  than  one  of  th<  m,  that  the 
important  step  bad  not  been  determined  by 
the  faults  of  the  prince,  or  adopted  as  a  means 
either  of  punishment  or  of  reformation,  since 
in  that  case  recourse  would  have  be<*n  had  to 
a  different  mode  of  procedure.  (See,  in  par- 
ticular, letter  to  Alva  of  April  6th.)  But 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  measure 
had  been  decided  upon  long  before  Curios 
conceived  his  project  of  escape.  Philip  him- 
self speaks  of  it  repeatedly  as  the  result  of 
long  deliberation.  The  French  minister, 
Fourquevaulx,  had  written  to  Charles  IX.  on 
August  21st,  1567,  that  Philip  was  so  much 
displeased  with  the  conduct  of  his  son  that, 
if  ii  were  not  for  the  talk  it  wouM  occasion, 
it  was  thought  he  would  shut  him  up  in  a 
tower  In  a  note  announcing  the  arrest  to 
Catherine  de  Medicis.  the  ambassador  recalls 
the  fact  that  he  had  made  the  same  statement 
to  lirr,  and  bad  also  mentioned  a  remark  made 
to  him  by  Ruy  Gomel  some  days  before  the. 
queen's  last  accouchement,  to  the  effect  that 
an  Important  resolution  was  depending  on 
the  sex  of  the  child  to  which  she  was  about 
to  give  birth.  The  Venetian  minister  asserts, 
in  a  letter  of  February  11th,  that  the  king 
bad  been  thinking  of  the  matter  for  throe, 
years;  and  this  is  confirmed  by  the  account 


464 


DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 


Whatever  were  the  offences  of  Carlos,  those  who  had  the  best  opportunities  for 
observation  soon  became  satisfied  that  it  was  intended  never  to  allow  him  to' 
regain  his  liberty  or  to  ascend  the  throne  of  his  ancestors.20  On  the  second 
of  March,  a  code  of  regulations  was  prepared  by  Philip  relative  to  the  treat- 
ment of  the  prince,  which  may  give  some  idea  of  the  rigour  of  his  confinement. 
He  was  given  in  especial  charge  to  Ruy  Gomez,  who  was  placed  at  the  head  of 
the  establishment ;  and  it  was  from  him  that  every  person  employed  about 
Carlos  was  to  receive  his  commission.  Six  other  nobles  were  appointed  both 
to  guard  the  prince  and  render  him  service.  Two  of  the  number  were  to 
remain  in  his  apartment  every  night, — the  one  watching  while  the  other 
slept ;  reminding  us  of  an  ingenious  punishment  among  the  Chinese,  where  a 
criminal  is  obliged  to  be  everywhere  followed  by  an  attendant,  whose  business 
it  is  to  keep  an  unceasing  watch  upon  the  offender,  that,  wherever  he  turns, 
he  may  still  find  the  same  eye  riveted  upon  him  !  * 


30  "Si  tien  per  fermo  che  privaranno  il 
Prencipe  della  successione,  et  non  lo  libera- 


ranno  mai."    Lettera  del  Nunzio,  Febraio  14, 

1568,  MS. 


given  to  Fourqnevaulx  by  Ruy  Gomez  by  the 
king's  order  (ante,  p.  459).  It  is  far  more 
likely,  therefore,  that  the  projected  flight  was 
itself  a  result  of  the  prince's  knowledge  of 
this  design,  than  the  cause  of  its  being  carried 
out.  But  the  real  cause  is  apparent  enough 
from  the  king's  letters,  the  mysterious  tone  of 
which  seems  to  have  been  adopted  only  to 
hide  the  fact  that  there  we  e  no  particular 
acts  which  he  could  allege  as  a  sufficient 
justification  of  the  purpose  he  so  clearly  in- 
timated never  to  release  his  son  or  allow  him 
to  succeed  to  the  throne.  It  is  true  that  in 
his  first  leiter  to  Al va  he  spoke  of  "  particular 
and  import mt  acts;  '  but  when  the  duke 
asked  for  details  he  was  told  that  he  might 
easily  infer  the  causes  from  bis  general  know- 
ledge of  the  prince.  On  the  other  hand, 
Philip  states  repeatedly  and  explicitly  that 
his  act  11  nd  purpose  were  grounded  on  defects 
of  intellect  and  character  in  the  prince  which 
it  had  been  found  impossible  to  correct,  and 
which  rendered  him  unfit  to  rule.  The  only 
question,  therefore,  that  remains  to  be  solved 
Is,  whether  Philip's  opinion  of  his  son's  in- 
capacity was  a  correct  and  impartial  one. 
The  notion  that  Carlos  was  insane  or  imbecile 
is  utterly  untenable.  Persons  who  knew 
him  well  have  recorded  their  opinion  that  his 
extravagancies  and  eccentricities  were  the 
results  of  youthful  folly  and  a  bad  education, 
and  that  he  was  endowed  with  high  qualities 
both  of  intellect  and  of  heart.  His  confessor, 
Fray  Diego  de  Chaves,  in  a  conversation  with 
the  imperial  minister  during  the  imprison- 
ment of  Carlos,  spoke  of  the  defects  of  his 
character  as  attributable  to  an  obstinacy 
which  had  never  been  corrected  by  proper 
discipline,  but  added  that  he  had  many  great 
virtues,  and  might  be  expected,  if  the  present 
correction  were  followed  by  amendment,  to 
become  a  good  and  virtuous  prince.  Bran- 
tome  expresses  the  belief  that  if  he  had  lived 
to  get  rid  of  his  youthful  wildness  he  would 
have  turned  out  a  very  great  prince,  a  soldier, 
and  a  state.-man.  The  Italian  letter-writers, 


including  the  papal  nuncio,  state  that  both 
the  grandees  and  the  people  had  the  highest 
hopes  of  him  and  looked  forward  to  his  acces- 
sion as  destined  to  inaugurate  a  new  system 
of  gove'nment,  under  which  the  great  nobles 
would  recover  their  ancient  influence  and  the 
nation  its  liberties.  Whether  these  two  re- 
sults were  compatible  may  be  doubted ;  but 
the  existence  of  such  anticipations  and  the 
facts  on  which  they  were  grounded  furnish 
probably  the  best  key  to  Philip's  views  and 
course  of  action.  The  good  and  bad  qualities 
of  Don  Carlos  were  alike  perilous  to  the  con- 
tinuance of  that  policy  of  repression  on  which 
Philip  considered  the  security  of  the  throne 
and  of  the  monarchy  as  depending.  To  his 
ministers,  the  members  of  that  amsulta  which 
lormcd  hi-  only  advisers,  the  danger  must 
have  seemed  still  more  personal.  On  the 
whole,  the  popular  verdict  that  Carlos  owed 
his  fate  to  the  fears  and  jealousy  of  the  king 
and  hi*'  ministers  is  tbe  one  that  accords  best 
with  all  tbe  evid  nee  which  has  yet  been 
brought  to  light.— ED.] 

*  [Frescott  has  omitted  to  mention  that  on 
the  25th  of  January  the  prince  bad  been  re- 
moved from  his  own  chamber,  which  was  in 
an  entresol,  to  a  small  room  on  the  same 
floor,  situated  in  a  tower,  which  had  but  one 
entrance  and  one  window,  the  latter  so  barred 
as  to  admit  light  only  through  the  upper 
pan.  An  opening  was  made  in  the  partition- 
wall,  to  admit  of  his  hearing  mass  when  cele- 
brated in  an  adjoining  apartment,  but  a 
wooden  barrier  prevented  bis  exit  by  this 
passage.  It  was  then  that  the  regulations 
were  adopted  which  are  mentioned  in  the 
text ;  though  they  were  not  reduced  to  writ- 
ing until  tbe  date  there  assigned  to  them. 
When  these  dispositions  and  the  change  of 
his  attendants  were  announced  to  him  by 
Ruy  Gomez,  Carlos  asked  if  Don  Rodrigo  de 
Mendoza,  who  had  been  in  his  service  only  a 
short  time,  but  to  whom  he  was  strongly 
attached,  and  whose  character  is  said  to  have 
justified  his  preference,  was  also  to  leave 


HIS  RIGOROUS  CONFINEMENT.  465 

During  the  day  it  was  the  duty  of  these  nobles  to  remain  with  Carlos  and 
lighten  by  their  conversation  the  gloom  of  his  captivity.  But  they  were  not 
to  talk  on  matters  relating  to  the  government,  above  all  to  the  prince's  im- 
prisonment, on  which  topic,  if  he  addressed  them,  they  were  to  remain  obdu- 
rately silent.  They  were  to  bring  no  messages  to  him,  and  bear  none  from  him 
to  the  world  without ;  and  they  were  to  maintain  inviolable  secrecy  in  regard 
to  all  that  passed  within  the  walls  of  the  palace,  unless  when  otherwise  per- 
mitted by  the  king.  Carlos  was  provided  with  a  breviary  and  some  other 
books  of  devotion  ;  and  no  works  except  those  of  a  devotional  character  were 
to  be  allowed  him.*'  This  last  regulation  seems  to  intimate  the  existence  of 
certain  heretical  tendencies  in  Carlos,  which  it  was  necessary  to  counteract  by 
books  of  an  opposite  character, — unless  it  might  be  considered  as  an  ominous 
preparation  for  his  approaching  end.  Besides  the  six  nobles,  no  one  was 
allowed  to  enter  the  apartment  but  the  prince's  physician,  his  barbero,  or 
gentleman  of  the  chamber,  and  his  valet.  The  last  was  taken  from  the 
monterog,  or  body-guard  of  the  king.**  There  were  seven  others  of  this  faith- 
ful corps  who  were  attached  to  the  establishment,  and  whose  duty  it  was  to 
bring  the  dishes  for  his  table  to  an  outer  hall,  whence  they  were  taken  by  the 
montero  in  waiting  to  the  prince's  chamber.  A  guard  of  twelve  halberdiers 
was  also  stationed  in  the  passages  leading  to  the  apartment,  to  intercept  all 
communication  from  without.  Every  person  employed  in  the  service,  from  the 
highest  noble  to  the  meanest  official  made  solemn  oath,  before  the  prince  of 
Eboli,  to  conform  to  the  regulations.  On  this  nobleman  rested  the  whole 
responsibility  of  enforcing  obedience  to  the  rules,  and  of  providing  for  the 
security  of  Carlos.  The  better  to  effect  this,  he  was  commanded  to  remove  to 
the  palace,  where  apartments  were  assigned  to  him  and  the  princess  his  wife, 
adjoining  those  of  his  prisoner.  The  arrangement  may  have  been  commended 
by  other  considerations  to  Philip,  whose  intimacy  with  the  princess  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  notice  hereafter.** 

The  regulations,  severe  as  they  were,  were  executed  to  the  letter.  Philip's 
aunt,  the  queen  of  Portugal,  wrote  in  earnest  terms  to  the  king,  kindly  offering 
herself  to  remain  with  her  grandson  in  his  confinement  and  take  charge  of 
him  like  a  mother  in  his  affliction.*'  "  But  they  were  very  willing,"  writes  the 
French  minister,  "to  spare  her  the  trouble."**  The  emperor  and  empress 
wrote  to  express  the  hope  that  the  confinement  of  Carlos  would  work  an 

*'  "  Para  rezarse  le  diesen  las  Oras,  Brevl-  as  Nobill  states,  the  prince  was  allowed  to 

ario  I  Rosario  que  pidiese,  1  libros  solamente  recreate  himself  with  the  perusal  of  Spanish 

de  bnena  dotrina  i  devocion,  si  qulsiese  leer  y  law-books,  which  he  may  have  consulted  with 

oir."    Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vii.  cap.  reference  to  his  own  case :  "  Ha  dotuandato, 

22.  che  li  siano  letti  li  statntl,  et  le  leggi  di  Spagtia : 

~;  The  montero  was  one  of  the  body-guard  tie'  quali  spende  molto  studio.     Scrive  assai 

of  the  king  for  the  night.    The  right  of  filling  di  sua  maim,  et  subito  scritto   lo  straccla." 

this  corps  was  an  ancient  privilege  accorded  Lettera  di  Noblli.  Giugno  8,  1568.  MS. 
to  the  inhabitants  of  a  certain  district  named  "  "  Per  questa  causa  dunque  il  Re  et  Reglna 

Kspinosa  de  los  Monteros.     Llorente,  Hlstoire  vechia  di  quel  regno  banno  mandate  qui  un 

de  1'inquisition,  torn.  ill.  p.  163.  ambaMclatore  a  far  offitio  col  lie  cattolico  per 

"  The  regulations  are  given  in  extento  by  il  Prencipe,  dolersi  del  caso,  offerirsi  di  venire 

Cabrera  (Filipe  Segundo.  lib.  vil.  cap,  22);  la  Ilegina  propria  a  governarlo  como  madre." 

and  the  rigour  with  which  they  were  enforc'-d  Lettr ra  del  Nunzio,  Mario  2,  if.t,-.  MS. 
is  attested  by  the  concurrent  reports  of  the  -    Kauiner,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 

foreign  ministers  at  the  court .    In  one  respect,  turies,  vol.  it.  p.  141. 
however,  they  seem  to  have  been  relaxed,  if. 


him.     Being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  be        that  be  might  one  dny  be  In  a  condition  to 
took  the  young  nobleman  in  hi*  arms,  and,        give  proofs  of  it.    Gnchard,  Don  Carlos  et 
embracing  him  closely,  with  tears  in  bis  eyes,        Philippe  II..  torn.  ii. — Ki>.J 
assured  him  of  his  attectlon  and  of  his  desire 

2  R 


4GG  DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 

amendment  in  his  conduct,  and  that  he  would  soon  be  liberated.  Several 
letters  passed  between  the  courts,  until  Philip  closed  the  correspondence  by 
declaring  that  his  son's  marriage  with  the  princess  Anne  could  never  take 
place,  and  that  he  would  never  be  liberated.26 

Philip's  queen,  Isabella,  and  his  sister  Joanna,  who  seem  to  have  been 
deeply  afflicted  by  the  course  taken  with  the  prince,  made  ineffectual  attempts 
to  be  allowed  to  visit  him  in  his  confinement ;  and  when  Don  John  of  Austria 
came  to  the  palace  dressed  in  a  mourning  suit,  to  testify  his  grief  on  the  occa- 
sion, Philip  coldly  rebuked  his  brother,  and  ordered  him  to  change  his  mourn- 
ing for  his  ordinary  dress.27 

Several  of  the  great  towns  were  prepared  to  send  their  delegates  to  condole 
with  the  monarch  under  his  affliction.  But  Philip  gave  them  to  understand 
that  he  had  only  acted  for  the  good  of  the  nation,  and  that  their  condolence  on 
the  occasion  would  be  superfluous.28  When  the  deputies  of  Aragon,  Catalonia, 
and  Valencia  were  on  their  way  to  court  with  instructions  to  inquire  into 
the  cause  of  the  prince's  imprisonment  and  to  urge  his  speedy  liberation,  they 
received,  on  the  way,  so  decided  an  intimation  of  the  royal  displeasure  that 
they  thought  it  prudent  to  turn  back,  without  venturing  to  enter  the  capital.2' 

In  short,  it  soon  came  to  be  understood  that  the  attair  of  Don  Carlos  was 
a  subject  not  to  be  talked  about.  By  degrees  it  seemed  to  pass  out  of  men's 
minds,  like  a  thing  of  ordinary  occurrence.  "  There  is  as  little  said  now  on  the 
subject  of  the  prince,"  writes  the  French  ambassador,  Fourquevaulx,  "  as  if 
he  had  been  dead  these  ten  years."  *°  His  name,  indeed,  still  kept  its  place 
among  those  of  the  royal  family,  in  the  prayers  said  in  the  churches.  But  the 
king  prohibited  the  clergy  from  alluding  to  Carlos  in  their  discourses.  Nor 
did  any  one  venture,  says  the  same  authority,  to  criticise  the  conduct  of  the 
king.  "  So  complete  is  the  ascendency  which  Philip's  wisdom  has  given  him 
over  his  subjects,  that,  willing  or  unwilling,  all  promptly  obey  him ;  and,  if 
they  do  not  love  him,  they  at  least  appear  to  do  so." 31 

Among  the  articles  removed  from  the  prince's  chamber  was  a  coffer,  as  the 
reader  may  remember,  containing  his  private  papers.  Among  these  were  a 
number  of  letters  intended  for  distribution  after  his  departure  from  the 
country.  One  was  addressed  to  his  father,  in  which  Carlos  avowed  that  the 
cause  of  his  flight  was  the  harsh  treatment  he  had  experienced  from  the  king.** 

M  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen-  to  the  weal  of  his  subjects,  as  to  sacrifice  to 

turies,  vol.  ii.  pp.  146,  148.  this  every  other  consideration,  even  the  tender 

37  "  Keyna  y  IMncesa  lloran  :  Don  Juan  v&  attachment  which   he   has  for  his  own  off- 

cada  noche  a  Palacio,  y  una  fue  muy  llano,  spring."    This,  which  might  seem  irony  to 

como  de  luto,  y  el  Rey  le  rifiio,  y  mando  no  some,  was  received  by  the  king,  as  it  was 

andubiesse  de  aquel  modu,  sino  como  solia  doubt  le.-«  intended,  in  perfect  good  faith.     His 

de  antes."    Relacion  del  Ayuda  de  Camara,  endorsement,  in  bis  own  handwriting,  on  the 

MS.  cover,  shows  the  style  in  which  he  liked  to 

'•"  "Sua  Maesta  ha  fatto  intendre  a  tutte  le  be  approached  by  his  loving  subjects  :  "This 

cttta  del  Reyno,  che  non  mandino  huomini  o  letter  is  written  with  prudence  and  discretion." 

imbasciator  nessuno,  ne  per  dolersi,  ne  per  A  translation  of  the  letter,  dated  February 

cerimonia,  ne  per  altro ;  et  pare  chehabbiaa  16th,  1568,  is  in  Llorente,  Histoire  de  1'ln- 

caro,  che  nessuno  glie  ne  parli,  et  cosi  ogn'  quisition,  torn.  iii.  p.  161. 

huomo  tace."     Lettera  del  Nunzio,  Febraio  *°  Letter  of  Fourquevaulx,  ap.    Raumer, 

14,  1563,  MS.  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries. 

"  Letter  of  Fonrquevaulx,  April  13,  1568,  3l  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

ap.  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen-  "  "Quella  per  il  Re  conteneva  specificata- 

turies,  vol.  ii.  p.  143. — A  letter  of  rondolence  mente  molti  agravii,  che  in  mnlti  anni  pre- 

from  the  municipality  of  Murcia  was  conceived  tendi,  che  Ii  siano  statti  fatti  da  Sua  Maesta, 

in  such  a  loyal  ana  politic  vein  as  was  alto-  et  diceva  ch'  egli  se  n'  andava  fuori  delli  suoi 

gether  unexceptionable.   "We  cannot  reflect,"  Regni  per  no  poter  sopportare  tanti  «gravii, 

it  says,  "  without  emotion,  on  our  good  fortune  che  Ii  faceva."    !.ieUera  del  Nunzio,  Marzo  2, 

in  having  a  sovereign  so  just,  and  so  devoted  1568,  MS. 


HIS  RIGOROUS  CONFINEMENT.  467 

Other  letters,  addressed  to  different  nobles  and  to  some  of  the  great  towns, 
made  a  similar  statement ;  and,  after  reminding  them  of  the  oath  they  had 
taken  to  him  as  successor  to  the  crown,  he  promised  to  grant  them  various 
immunities  when  the  sceptre  should  come  into  his  hands.3*  With  these  papers 
was  also  found  one  of  the  most  singular  import.  It  contained  a  list  of  all 
those  persons  whom  he  deemed  friendly  or  inimical  to  himself.  At  the  head 
of  the  former  class  stood  the  name  of  his  step-mother,  Isabella,  and  of  his 
uncle,  Don  John  of  Austria, — both  of  them  noticed  in  terms  of  the  warmest 
affection.  On  the  catalogue  of  his  enemies,  "to  be  pursued  to  the  death," 
were  the  names  of  the  Icing  his  father,  the  prince  and  princess  of  Eboli, 
Cardinal  Espinosa,  the  duke  of  Alva,  and  others.*4  Such  is  the  strange 
account  of  the  contents  of  the  coffer  given  to  his  court  by  the  papal  nuncio. 
These  papers,  we  are  told,  were  submitted  to  the  judges  who  conducted  the 
process,  and  formed,  doubtless,  an  important  part  of  the  testimony  against 
the  prince.  It  may  have  been  from  one  of  the  parties  concerned  that  the 
nuncio  gathered  his  information.  Yet  no  member  of  that  tribunal  would  have 
ventured  to  disclose  its  secrets  without  authority  from  Philip,  who  may  possibly 
have  consented  to  the  publication  of  facts  that  would  serve  to  vindicate  his 
course.  If  these  facts  are  faithfully  reported,  they  must  be  allowed  to  furnish 
some  evidence  of  a  disordered  mind  in  Carlos. 

The  king,  meanwhile,  was  scarcely  less  a  prisoner  than  his  son  ;  for  from  the 
time  of  the  prince's  arrest  he  had  never  left  the  palace,  even  to  visit  his 
favourite  residences  of  Aranjuez  and  the  Pardo,  nor  had  he  passed  a  single  day 
in  the  occupation,  in  which  ne  took  such  delight,  of  watching  the  rising  glories 
of  the  EscoriaL  He  seemed  to  be  constantly  haunted  by  the  apprehension  of 
some  outbreak  among  the  people,  or  at  least  among  the  partisans  of  Carlos,  to 
effect  his  escape  ;  and  when  he  heard  any  unusual  noise  in  the  palace,  says 
his  historian,  he  would  go  to  the  window,  to  see  if  the  tumult  were  not  occa- 
sioned by  an  attempt  to  release  the  prisoner.**  There  was  little  cause  for 
apprehension  in  regard  to  a  people  so  well  disciplined  to  obedience  as  the  Cas- 
tihans  under  Philip  the  Second.  But  it  is  an  ominous  circumstance  for  a 
prisoner  th%t  he  should  become  the  occasion  of  such  apprehension. 

Philip,  however,  was  not  induced  by  his  fears  to  mitigate  in  any  degree  the 
rigour  of  his  son;s  confinement,  which  produced  the  effect  to  have  been 
expected  on  one  of  his  fiery,  ungovernable  temper.  At  first  he  was  thrown 
into  a  state  bordering  on  frenzy,  and,  it  is  said,  more  than  once  tried  to  make 
away  with  himself.  As  he  found  that  thus  to  beat  against  the  bars  of  his 
prison-house  was  only  to  add  to  his  distresses,  he  resigned  himself  in  sullen 
silence  to  his  fate,— the  sullenness  of  despair.  In  his  indifference  to  all  around 
him,  he  ceased  to  take  an  interest  in  his  own  spiritual  concerns.  Far  from 
using  the  religious  books  in  his  possession,  he  would  attend  to  no  act  of  devo- 
tion, refusing  even  to  confess,  or  to  admit  his  confessor  into  his  presence.** 
These  signs  of  fatal  indifference,  if  not  of  positive  defection  from  the  Faith, 

"  Lettera  del  Nunzlo,  Marzo  2,  156»,  MS.  pupbloa  fleles  I  reverentea.  que  ruidos  estra- 

14  "  VI  e  ancora  una  lirta,  dove  ncriveva  di  ordinarlos  en  sn  Palacio  le  hazian  niirar,  si 

sua  muii'i  gli  amiri,  et  II  nemici  pnoi,  11  quail  eran  tumultos  [»ra  sacar  a  su  Alteza  de  su 

diceva  di  bavere  a  peraegultare  sempre  flno  camara."    Cabrera,  Filipe  Seguodo,  lib.  Till. 

alia  morte.  Ira  II  quali  II  prlmo  era  scritto  II  cap.  5. 

RS  suo  padre,  di  poi  Rul  G'.mez  et  la  tnoglle,  "  "Onde  W  cbiarnato  II  confessor*  rt   II 

11  Presidente,  II  Due*  d'Alba,  et  certl  altri."  medico,  ma  egli  gpguitando  nella  »ua  dispera- 

Ibid.  tione  non  vuis  •  accoltare  ne  1'unno  ne  1'altro." 

"  "  No  mlio  el  Key  de  Madrid,  n!  aim  a  Ix-ttera  del  Nunzto,  MS.— My  C"py  of  this 

Aranjuez  nl  a  San  Lorenzo  a  ver  BU  fabrica,  letter,  perhaps  through  the  inadvertence  of 

tan  atento  al  negocl<>  del   Principe  rstiiU,  the  transcriber,  U  without  date. 
i    aoapicboao  a   las  murmuraciones  de    su» 


438  DEATH  OF  DON   CARLOS. 

gave  great  alarm  to  Philip,  who  would  not  willingly  see  the  soul  thus  perish 
with  the  body.37  In  this  emergency  he  employed  Suarez,  the  prince's  almoner, 
who  once  had  some  influence  over  his  master,  to  addiess  him  a  letter  of  ex- 
postulation. The  letter  has  been  preserved,  and  is  too  remarkable  to  be 
passed  by  in  silence. 

Suarez  begins  with  reminding  Carlos  that  his  rash  conduct  had  left  him  with- 
out partisans  or  friends.  The  effect  of  his  present  course,  instead  of  mending 
his  condition,  could  only  serve  to  make  it  worse.  "  What  will  the  world  say, 
continues  the  ecclesiastic,  "  when  it  shall  learn  that  you  now  refuse  to  confess, 
— when,  too,  it  shall  discover  other  dreadful  things  of  which  you  have  been 
guilty,  some  of  which  are  of  such  a  nature  that,  did  they  concern  any  other 
than  your  highness,  the  Holy  Office  would  be  led  to  inquire  whether  the 
author  of  them  u-ere  in  truth  a  Christian  ?  "  It  is  in  the  bitterness  and 
anguish  of  my  heart  that  I  must  declare  to  your  highness  that  you  are  not 
only  in  danger  of  forfeiting  your  worldly  estate,  but,  what  is  worse,  your  own 
soul"  And  he  concludes  by  imploring  Carlos,  as  the  only  remedy,  to  return 
to  his  obedience  to  God,  and  to  the  king,  who  is  His  representative  on  earth. 

But  the  admonitions  of  the  honest  almoner  had  as  little  effect  on  the 
unhappy  youth  as  the  prayers  of  his  attendants.  The  mental  excitement 
under  which  he  laboured,  combined  with  the  want  of  air  and  exercise, 
produced  its  natural  effect  on  his  health.  Every  day  he  became  more  and  more 
emaciated  ;  while  the  fever  which  had  so  long  preyed  on  his  constitution  now 
burned  in  his  veins  with  greater  fury  than  ever.  To  allay  the  intolerable 
heat,  he  resorted  to  such  desperate  expedients  as  seemed  to  intimate,  says 
the  Papal  nuncio,  that  if  debarred  from  laying  violent  hands  on  himself  he 
would  accomplish  the  same  end  in  a  slower  way,  but  not  less  sure.  He  deluged 
the  floor  with  water,  not  a  little  to  the  inconvenience  of  the  companions  of  nis 
prison,  and  walked  about  for  hours,  half  naked,  with  bare  feet,  on  the  cold 
pavement.89  He  caused  a  warming-pan  filled  with  ice  and  snow  to  be  in- 
troduced several  times  in  a  night  into  his  bed,  and  let  it  remain  there  for 
hours  together.40  As  if  this  were  not  enough,  he  would  gulp  down  such 
draughts  of  snow-water  as  distance  any  achievement  on  record  in  the  annals 
of  hydropathy.  He  pursued  the  same  mad  course  in  respect  to  what  he  ate. 
He  would  abstain  from  food  an  incredible  number  of  days,41  and  then,  indulg- 
ing in  proportion  to  his  former  abstinence,  would  devour  a  pasty  of  four 

*i  <•  j^e  volendo  in  alcun  rnodo  cnrare  ne  11  1'  acqua  per  tutto."    Lettera  del  Nnnzio,  MS. 

corpo  ne  I"  ariiii  a,  la  qual  cosa  faceva  stare  il  ""  "Fare!  raffredare  ogni   notte  due  o  tre 

He  et  gli  altri  con  molto  dispiacere,  vedendoll  voltl  il  letto  con  uno  scaMaletto  pieno  di  neve, 

massima  di  continue  crescere  il  male  et  mancar  et  tenerlo  le  notte  Intiere  nel  letto."     Ibid, 

la  virtu."     Lettera  del  Nnnzio,  MS.  *'  Thn-e  days,  according  to  one  authority. 

"  "  Vea  V.   A.  que  harin   y  diran  todos  (Lettera  di  Nobill  di  30  di  Luglio,  1568,  MS.) 

quari'-lo  se  entienda  que  no  se  confiesa,  y  Be  Another  swells  the  number  to  nine  days  (CarU 

vayan  descubriendo  otras  cosas  terribles,  que  de  Gomez  Manrique,  MS.)  ;  and  a  third— one 

le  son  tanto,  que  Regan  &  que  el  Santo  Oficio  of  Philip's  cabinet  ministers— has  the  assur- 

tuviera  mucha  entrada  en  otro  para  saber  si  ance  to  prolong  the  prince's  fast  to  eleven 

era  cristiano  6  no."    Carta  de  Hernan  Suarez  days,  in  which  he  allows  him,  however,  an 

de  Toledo  al  Prfncipe,  Marzo  18,  1568,  MS.*  un'limited  quantity  of  cold  wa'er :  "  Ansi  se 

**  "  Spogliarsi  nudo,  et  solo  con  una  robba  determine  de  no  coroery  en  esradeterminacion 

di  taffeta  su  le  carni  s'ar  quasi  di  continue  passaron  onzr  dins  sin  que  bastasen  persua- 

&d  una  finestra,  dove  tirava  vento,  caminare  eiones  ni  otras  diligi-ncias  a  que  tomase  cosa 

con  li  piedi  discalzi  per  la  cama<  a  que  tuttavia  bevidn  ni  que  fuesa  para  salud  sino  aqua  fria." 

faceva  stare  adacquata  tanto  che  sempre  ci  era  Carta  de  Francisco  de  Erassu,  MS. 


*  [The  apparent  significance  of  this  passage  make  it  extremely  doubtful  whether  it  was 
Is  much  weakened  by  the  fact  that  the  circum-  not  intended  to  serve  the  purpose  of  the 
stances  under  which  the  letter  was  written  prince's  enemies  aud  pretended  judges. — ED.] 


HIS  LAST  MOMENTS. 


4G9 


partridges,  with  all  the  paste,  at  a  sitting,  washing  it  down  with  three  gallons 
or  more  of  iced  water  ! " 

No  constitution  could  long  withstand  such  violent  assaults  as  these.  The 
constitution  of  Carlos  gradually  sank  under  them.  His  stomach,  debilitated 
by  long  inaction,  refused  to 'perform  the  extraordinary  tasks  that  were 
imposed  on  it.  He  was  attacked  by  incessant  vomiting ;  dysentery  set  in  ; 
and  his  strength  rapidly  failed.  The  physician,  Olivares,  who  a!one  saw  the 
patient,  consulted  with  his  brethren  in  the  apartments  of  Ruy  Gomez.4* 
Their  remedies  failed  to  restore  the  exhausted  energies  of  nature ;  and  it  was 
soon  evident  that  the  days  of  Carlos  were  numbered. 

To  no  one  could  such  an  announcement  have  given  less  concern  than  to 
Carlos ;  for  he  had  impatiently  looked  to  death  as  to  his  release.  From  this 


43  "Doppo  essere  stato  tre  giorni  senza 
mangiare  molto  fantastico  et  bizzaro  mangio 
un  pasticcio  fredolodi  quatri  perdici  COD  tutta 
la  pasta :  et  il  medesimo  giorno  be  we  tre- 
cento once  d'aqqua  fredda."  Letiera  di  Nobili, 
Luglio  30,  1568,  MS.— Yet  Carlos  might  have 
found  warrant  for  his  proceedings,  in  n-gard 
to  the  use  of  snow  and  iced  water,  in  the  pre- 
scriptions of  more  than  one  doctor  of  bis  time. 
De  Castro— who  displays  much  ingenuity,  and 
a  careful  study  of  authorities,  in  his  discussion 
of  this  portion  of  Philip's  history — quotes  the 
writings  of  two  of  these  worthies,  one  of  whom 


tells  us  that  the  use  of  snow  bad  increased 
to  such  an  extent  that  not  only  was  it  recom- 
mended to  patients  in  their  drink,  but  also  to 
cool  their  sheets ;  and  be  forthwith  prescribes 
a  warming  pan,  to  be  used  in  the  same  way 
as  it  was  by  Carlos.  Historia  de  los  1'rotus- 
tanteg  Espafioles,  p.  370.* 

"  "Visitabale  el  Doctor  OHvares  Protc- 
medico  i  salia  a  consultar  con  BUS  conpaneros 
en  presencia  de  Rui  Gomez  de  Sil  va  la  curacion, 
curso  i  accidentes  de  la  enfermedad."  Cabrera, 
Filipe  Seguudo,  lib.  vii.  cap.  22. 


•  [In  the  paragraph  to  which  the  above  note 
is  appended,  the  author  lias  mixed  up  details 
which  belong  to  different  periods,  and  which 
it  is  essential  to  keep  distinct.  The  long 
abstinence  from  food,  evincing  an  actual  in- 
tention of  suicide, — proceeding,  as  M.  Gachard 
remarks,  from  a  natural  despair  when  the 
unhappy  victim  could  no  longer  feel  any  doubt 
as  to  the  fate  reserved  for  him, — occurred  in 
February.  The  king,  when  informed  of  It, 
coolly  remarked  that  his  win  would  eat  when 
he  was  hungry.  The  prediction  proved  cor- 
rect, and,  instead  of  being  injured  by  his  long 
fast,  the  health  of  Carlos  seemed  to  be  im- 
proved by  it.  His  mood  was  also  changed : 
be  confessed  and  received  the  eucharist, — a 
state  of  things  which  led  to  hopes  that  his 
liberation  would  shortly  take  place.  Philip, 
however,  in  a  letter  to  his  sister,  the  empress, 
wrote  that  it  was  a  mistake  to  infer  from  the 
prince's  having  been  allowed  to  receive  the 
communion  that  there  was  no  defect  in  his 
understanding:  in  such  cases  there  were  mo- 
ments when  the  intellect  was  more  sane  than 
at  other*,  and,  moreover,  one's  mind  might  be 
sufficiently  sound  for  the  right  performance 
of  private  and  personal  acts  and  yet  be  alto- 
gether defective  in  matters  pertaining  to 
government  and  public  affairs.  The  incident 
had,  therefore,  he  said,  made  no  change  in  his 
intention.  At  what  time  Carlos  had  recourse 
to  the  hygiene  of  ice  and  snow  (for  there  is 
no  pretext  that  these  were  employed  with  a 
direct  intention  of  harming  himself )  is  s-ome- 
wbat  uncertain.  The  practice  is  mentioned. 
in  what  may  be  called  th»  official  reports,  as 
the  direct  cause  of  his  illness  and  death.  M. 


Gachard  says  it  would  be  easy  not  only  to  add 
to  the  evidence  De  Custro  has  adduced  of  the 
common  use  of  these  remedies,  but  to  prove 
that  Carlos  had  been  in  the  habit  of  empl<  y- 
ing  them  long  before  his  confinement.  But 
he  very  properly  refuses  to  allow  any  weight 
to  a  relation  of  facts  coming  from  so  suspicious 
a  source;  and,  even  if  its  correctness  were 
established,  it  would,  as  he  justly  argues, 
leave  the  responsibility  on  the  king  himself. 
It  was,  in  fact,  an  outrage  to  common  sense 
to  charge  any  such  excesses,  or  their  results, 
on  a  prisoner  who  was  under  incessant  surveil- 
lance day  and  night,  and  who  was  not  per- 
mitted to  cut  his  own  food.  "Who,"  asks 
M.  Gachard,  "  procured  for  him  the  iced  wati  r 
which  he  used  so  immoderately,  and  the  ice 
which  be  placed  in  his  bed?  Did  not  Ruy 
Gomez,  I'Crme  damnee  du  rot,  if  1  may  )>e 
pardoned  the  expression,  preside  over  all  the 
details  of  the  regimen  to  which  the  grandson 
of  Charles  the  Fifth  was  subjected  ? "  The 
weakness  of  the  apology  put  forth  in  a  circu- 
lar U>  the  foreign  ministers— pretending  that 
the  consequences  were  not  anticipated,  and 
that  if  restrained  from  these  arts  the  prince 
would  have  committed  others  "  still  more 
fatal  "(!) — needs  no  remark.  With  regard 
to  the  last  and  most  important  of  the  excesses 
attributed  to  Carlos,  his  devouring  a  pasty  of 
four  partridges, — not,  as  Prescott  seems  to 
intimate,  on  several  occasions  but  on  one 
only,  and  this  immediately  before  his  final 
illness,  —  a  further  mention  of  the  circum- 
stances will  be  made  in  a  subsequent  note. 
—Bo. 


470  DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 

hour  he  seemed  to  discard  all  earthly  troubles  from  his  mind,  as  he  fixed  his 
thoughts  steadfastly  on  the  future.  At  his  own  request,  his  confessor,  Chavres, 
and  Suarez,  his  almoner,  were  summoned,  and  assisted  mm  with  their  spiritual 
consolations.  The  closing  scenes  are  recorded  by  the  pen  of  the  nuneio  : 

"  Suddenly  a  wonderful  change  seemed  to  be  wrought  by  divine  grace  in  the 
heart  of  the  prince.  Instead  of  vain  and  empty  talk,  his  language  became 
that  of  a  sensible  man.  He  sent  for  his  confessor,  devoutly  confessed,  and,  as 
his  illness  was  such  that  he  could  not  receive  the  host,  he  humbly  adored  it  ; 
showing  throughout  great  contrition,  and,  though  not  refusing  the  pron'ered 
remedies,  manifesting  such  contempt  for  the  things  of  this  world,  and  such  a 
longing  for  heaven,  that  one  would  have  said  God  has  reserved  for  this  hour 
the  sum  of  all  his  grace."  ** 

He  seemed  to  feel  an  assurance  that  he  was  to  survive  till  the  Vigil  of  St. 
James,  the  patron  saint  of  his  country.  When  told  that  this  would  be  four 
days  later,  he  said,  "  So  long  will  my  misery  endure."  "  He  would  willingly 
have  seen  his  father  once  more  before  his  death.  But  his  confessor,  it  is  said, 
dissuaded  the  monarch,*  on  the  ground  that  Carlos  was  now  in  so  happy  a 
frame  of  mind  that  it  were  better  not  to  disturb  it  by  drawing  oft'  his  attention 
to  worldly  objects.  Philip,  however,  took  the  occasion,  when  Carlos  lay 
asleep  or  insensible,  to  enter  the  chamber  ;  and,  stealing  softly  behind  the 
prince  of  Eboli  and  the  grand  prior,  Antonio  de  Toledo,  he  stretched  out  his 
hand  towards  the  bed,  and,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  gave  the  parting 
benediction  to  his  dying  son.*' 

Nor  was  Carlos  allowed  the  society  of  his  amiable  step-mother,  the  queen,  nor 
of  his  aunt  Joanna,  to  sweeten  by  their  kind  attentions  the  bitterness  of 
death.47  It  was  his  sad  fate  to  die,  as  he  had  lived  throughout  his  confine- 
ment, under  the  cold  gaze  of  his  enemies.  Yet  he  died  at  peace  with  all  ;  and 
some  of  the  last  words  that  he  uttered  were  to  forgive  his  father  for  his  im- 
prisonment, and  the  ministers—  naming  Ruy  Gomez  and  Espinosa  in  particular 
—  who  advised  him  to  it.4' 

Carlos  now  grew  rapidly  more  feeble,  having  scarce  strength  enough  left  to 
listen  to  the  exhortations  of  his  confessor,  and  with  low,  indistinct  murmur- 
ings  to  adore  the  crucifix  which  he  held  constantly  in  his  hand.  On  the 
twenty-fourth  of  July,  soon  after  midnight,  he  was  told  it  was  the  Vigil  of  St. 
James.  Then  suddenly  rousing,  with  a  gleam  of  joy  on  his  countenance,  he 
intimated  his  desire  for  his  confessor  to  place  the  holy  taper  in  his  hand  ;  and 


44  "  Mostrando  molta  contritione,  et  se  bene  1  se  rccopift  en  en  catnara  co  mas  dolor  i  tnenos 
si  lassava  curare  il  corpo  per  non  causarsi  pgll  cuidado."    Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  viii.  cap.  5. 
stesso  la  murte,  mostrava  pero  tanto  disprezzo  *'  "  II  Re  non  1"  ha  visitato,  ne  lassato  che 
delle  cose  del  mondo,  et  tanto  desiderio  delle  la  Regina  ne  la  Priucipessa  lo  veggiano,  forse 
celesti  ;    che  pareva  veramente  che   Nostro  considerando  che  poi  che  gia  si  conosceva  dis- 
Signore  Oio  gli  havesse  riserbato  il  cumulo  perato  il  case  suo,  queste  visite  simili  poterono 
di  tutti  le  gratie  a  quel  ponto."    Lettera  del  |>iu  presto  conturbare  1'  una  et  1'  altra  dclle 
Nunzio,  M.S.  parti,  che  aiutarli  in  cosa  nessuna."    Lettera 

45  "  Tanto  hanno  da  durare  le  niie  miserie."  del  Nunzio,  MS. 

Ibid.  «"  "  II  Prencipe  di  Spagna  avante  la  morte 

•"  "  And     so,"     says    Cabrera,    somewhat  diceva,  che  perdoneva  a  tutti,  et  nominaia- 

bluntly,   "the  king  withdrew  to  his  apart-  mentc  al  Padie.  che  1'  haveva  carcerat",  et  a 

nient  with  more  sorrow  in  his  heart,  and  less  Ruy  Gomez,  cardinal  Presidonte,  Dottor  Ve- 

care  :  "  "  Algunas  oras  antes  tie  su  falleciiui-  lasco,    et  altri,  per    lo  consigHo    de'  quali 

ento,  por  entre  los  onbros  del  I'rior  don  An-  credrva  essere  stato  preso."    Ibid.,  Luglio  28, 

tonio  i  de  Uui  Gomez  le  echo  su  bendicion,  1568,  MS. 


[*  M.  Gachard  considers  this  excuse  as  un-  he  not  the  bowels  of  a  father?"  One  can  feel 
founded  But,  admitting  it,  he  adds,  "  should  no  hesitation  in  answering  both  questions  in 
Philip  have  followed  this  counsel  ?  .  .  .  Had  the  negative. — ED.] 


LLORENTE'S  ACCOUNT.  471 

feebly  beating  his  breast,  as  if  to  invoke  the  mercy  of  Heaven  on  his  trans- 
gressions, he  fell  back,  and  expired  without  a  groan.49  "  No  Catholic,"  says 
NobilL  "  ever  made  a  more  Catholic  end."  M 

Such  is  the  account  given  us  of  the  last  hours  of  this  most  unfortunate 
prince,  by  the  papal  nuncio  and  the  Tuscan  minister,  and  repeated,  with  slight 
discrepancies,  by  most  of  the  Castilian  writers  of  that  and  the  following  age.41 
It  is  a  singular  circumstance  that,  although  we  have  such  full  reports  both  of 
what  preceded  and  what  followed  the  death  of  Carlos,  from  the  French  am- 
bassador, the  portion  of  his  correspondence  which  embraces  his  death  has 
been  withdrawn,  whether  by  accident  or  design,  from  the  archives.  "  But 
probably  no  one  without  the  walls  of  the  palace  had  access  to  better  sources 
of  information  than  the  two  ministers  first  mentioned,  especially  the  papal 
nuncio.  Their  intelligence  may  well  have  been  derived  from  some  who  had 
been  about  the  person  of  Carlos.  If  so,  it  could  not  have  been  communicated 
without  the  approbation  of  Philip,  who  may  have  been  willing  that  the  world 
should  understand  that  his  son  had  died  true  to  the  Faith. 

A  very  different  account  of  the  end  of  Carlos  is  given  by  Llorente.  And  as 
this  writer,  the  secretary  of  the  Inquisition,  haa  access  to  very  important 
materials,  and  as  his  account,  though  somewhat  prolix,  is  altogether  remark- 
able, I  cannot  pass  it  by  in  silence. 

According  to  Llorente,  the  process  already  noticed  as  having  been  instituted 
against  Canos  was  brought  to  a  close  only  a  short  time  before  his  death.  No 
notice  of  it,  during  all  this  time,  had  been  given  to  the  prisoner,  and  no 
counsel  was  employed  in  his  behalf.  By  the  ninth  of  July  the  affair  was 
sufficiently  advanced  for  a  "summary  judgment."  It  resulted,  from  the 
evidence,  that  the  accused  was  guilty  of  treason  in  both  the  first  and  second 
degree,  —  as  having  endeavoured  to  compass  the  death  of  the  king,  his  father, 
and  as  having  conspired  to  usurp  the  sovereignty  of  Flanders.  The  counsellor 
Munatones,  in  his  report  which  he  laid  before  the  king,  while  he  stated  that 
the  penalty  imposed  by  the  law  on  every  other  subject  for  these  crimes  was 
death,  added  that  his  majesty,  by  his  sovereign  authority,  might  decide  that 
the  heir-apparent  was  placed  by  his  rank  above  the  reach  of  ordinary  laws. 

••  "  Et  battendosi  11  petto  come  poteva,  "  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 

essendoli  mancata  la  vinu  a  poco  a  poco,  riti-  turies,  vol.  1.  p.  147.  —  Von  Raumer  has  de- 

randosi  la  vita  quasi  da  membro  in  mi  nibro,  voted  some  fifty  pages  of  his  fragmentary 

espiro  con  molta  tranquillity  et  constanza."  compilation  to  the  story  of  Don  Carlos,  and 

Lett  era  del  Nunzlo,  MS.  more  especially  to  the  closing  scenes  of  his 

*°  "  Et  testificono  qnelli,  che  vi  si  trov-  rno  life.  The  sources  are  of  the  most  unexcep- 

cheChriatianonessunopuomorirpincattclica-  tionable  kind,  being  chiefly  the  correspond- 


meute,   ne  in    maggior  scntim  utu   di   lui."        ence    of   the    Frerich  ministers  with    their 
'  tter.i  di  Nubili,  Luglio  30,  1568,  M.S.  court,  existing  among  the  MSS.  in  the  Royal 

11  See,  among  others,  Quintana,  Hi.noria  de        Library  at  Paris.    The  selections  made  are 


la  Antiguedad.  Nobleza  y  Grandeza  de  la  Villa  pertinent  in  their  character,  and  will  be  found 

y  Corte  de  Madrid  (1629),  fol.  36*,—  Colme-  of  the  greatest  importance  to  illustrate  this 

nareo,  Historia  de  la  Insigne  Ciudad  de  Segovia  dark  passage  in  the  history  of  the  time.    If  1 

Ofadrid,  1640),  cap.   43,—  Pinelo,  Anales  de  have  not  arrived  at  the  same  conclusions  in 

Madrid,  MS.,—  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  all  respects  as  those  of  the  illustrious  German 

viii.  cap.  6,-Herrera,  Historia  general,  lii>.  scholar,  it  may  be  that  my  judgment  has  been 

xv.  cap.  3,  -Carta  do  Francisco  deErasso,  MS.,  modified  by  the  wider  range  of  materials  at 

—  Carta  de  Gomez  Muurique,  MS.  my  command.* 


•  [Fragments  of  two  letters  written  by  the  face  when  bis  body  was  deposited  with  the 

French  ambassador,  De  Fourquevaulx,  on  the  monks  of  San  Domingo  el  Real :  it  showed  no 

26th  of  July,   have   been  preserved.      I  hey  effects  of  disease,  except  that  it  was  somewhat 

notice  the  death  of  Carlos  as  proceeding  from  yellow  ;  but  I  understand  that  the  rest  of  the 

the  excesses  mentioned  in  the  text.    In  i>ne  of  body  was  mere  bones."    Gachard,  Don  Carlo* 

them,  however,  the  writer  savs,  "I  taw   his  et  Philippe  II.,  torn.  11.,  Appendice  C.— Ku.J 


472  DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 

And  it  was  further  in  his  power  to  mitigate  or  dispense  with  any  penalty 
whatever,  when  he  considered  it  for  the  good  of  his  subjects.  In  this  judg- 
ment both  the  ministers,  Ruy  Gomez  and  Espinosa,  declared  their  concurrence. 

To  this  the  king  replied  that,  though  his  feelings  moved  him  to  follow  the 
suggestion  of  his  ministers,  his  conscience  would  not  permit  it.  He  could  not 
think  that  he  should  consult  the  good  of  his  people  by  placing  over  them  a 
monarch  so  vicious  in  his  disposition  and  so  fierce  and  sanguinary  in  his 
temper  as  Carlos.  However  agonizing  it  might  be  to  his  feelings  as  a  father, 
he  must  allow  the  law  to  take  its  course.  Yet,  after  all,  he  said,  it  might  not 
be  necessary  to  proceed  to  this  extremity.  The  prince's  health  was  in  so 
critical  a  state  that  it  was  only  necessary  to  relax  the  precautions  in  regard 
to  his  diet,  and  his  excesses  would  soon  conduct  him  to  the  tomb  !  One  point 
only  was  essential,  that  he  should  be  so  well  advised  of  his  situation  that  he 
should  be  willing  to  confess  and  make  his  peace  with  Heaven  before  he  died. 
This  was  the  greatest  proof  of  love  which  he  could  give  to  his  son  and  to  the 
Spanish  nation. 

Ruy  Gomez  and  Espinosa  both  of  them  inferred  from  this  singular  ebullition 
of  parental  tenderness  that  they  could  not  further  the  real  intentions  of  the 
king  better  than  by  expediting  as  much  as  possible  the  death  of  Carlos.  Ruy 
Goniez  accordingly  communicated  his  views  to  Olivares,  the  prince's  physician. 
This  he  did  in  such  -ambiguous  and  mysterious  phrase  as,  while  it  intimated 
his  meaning,  might  serve  to  veil  the  enormity  of  the  crime  from  the  eyes  of 
the  party  who  was  to  perpetrate  it.  No  man  was  more  competent  to  this 
delicate  task  than  the  prince  of  Eboli,  bred  from  his  youth  in  courts,  and 
trained  to  a  life  of  dissimulation.  Olivares  readily  comprehended  the  drift  of 
his  discourse,— that  the  thing  required  of  him  was  to  dispose  of  the  prisoner 
in  such  a  way  that  his  death  should  appear  natural  and  that  the  honour  of 
the  king  should  not  be  compromised.  He  raised  no  scruples,  but  readily 
signified  his  willingness  faithfully  to  execute  the  will  of  his  sovereign.  Under 
these  circumstances,  on  the  twentieth  of  July,  a  purgative  dose  was  admin- 
istered to  the  unsuspecting  patient,  who,  as  may  be  imagined,  rapidly  grew 
worse.  It  was  a  consolation  to  his  father  that,  when  advised  of  his  danger, 
Carlos  consented  to  receive  his  confessor.  Thus,  though  the  body  perished, 
the  soul  was  saved.** 

Such  is  the  extraordinary  account  given  us  by  Llorente,  which,  if  true, 
would  at  once  settle  the  question  in  regard  to  the  death  of  Carlos.  But 
Llorente,  with  a  disingenuousness  altogether  unworthy  of  an  historian  in 
a  matter  of  so  grave  import,  has  given  us  no  knowledge  of  the  sources  whence 
his  information  was  derived.  He  simply  says  that  they  are  "certain  secret 
memoirs  of  the  time,  full  of  curious  anecdote,  which,  though  not  possessing 
precisely  the  character  of  authenticity,  are  nevertheless  entitled  to  credit,  as 
coming  from  persons  employed  in  the  palace  of  the  king  "  !  *'  Had  the  writer 
condescended  to  acquaint  us  with  the  names,  or  some  particulars  of  the 
characters,  of  his  authors,  we  might  have  been  able  to  form  some  estimate  of 
the  value  of  their  testimony.  His  omission  to  do  this  may  lead  us  to  infer  that 
he  had  not  perfect  confidence  in  it  himself.  At  all  events,  it  compels  us  to 
trust  the  matter  entirely  to  his  own  discretion,  a  virtue  which  those  familiar 
with  his  inaccuracies  in  other  matters  will  not  be  disposed  to  concede  to  him 
in  a  very  eminent  degree.44 

"  Llorente,  HIstoire  de  1'Inqnisition,  torn.  en  ce  qu'ils  sent  de  certaines  personnes  em- 
ill,  p.  171,  et  seq.  ployes  dans  le  palais  du  roi."  Ibid.,  p.  171. 

54  "  Quoique  ces.  documens  nc  ooient  pas  •'  Thus,  for  example,  he  makes  the  contra- 

autbeutiques,  jls  meritent  qu'oii  y  ajuute  foi,  dictory  statements,  at  the  distance  of  four 


VARIOUS  ACCOUNTS.  473 

His  narrative,  moreover,  is  in  direct  contradiction  to  the  authorities  I  have 
already  noticed,  especially  to  the  two  foreign  ministers  so  often  quoted,  who, 
with  the  advantages — not  a  few — that  they  possessed  for  getting  correct  infor- 
mation, were  indefatigable  in  collecting  it.  "  I  say  nothing,"  writes  the  Tuscan 
envoy,  alluding  to  the  idle  rumours  of  the  town,  "  of  gossip  unworthy  to  be 
listened  to.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  satisfy  the  populace.  It  is  best  to  stick  to 
the  truth,  without  caring  for  the  opinions  of  those  who  talk  wildly  of  impro- 
bable matters,  which  have  their  origin  in  ignorance  and  malice."  *• 

Still,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  suspicions  of  foul  play  to  Carlos  were  not 
only  current  abroad,  but  were  entertained  by  persons  of  nigher  rank  than  the 
populace  at  home, — where  it  could  not  be  safe  to  utter  them.  Among  others, 
the  celebrated  Antonio  Perez,  one  of  the  household  of  the  prince  of  Eboli, 
informs  us  that,  "  as  the  king  had  found  Carlos  guilty,  he  was  condemned  to 
death  by  casuists  and  inquisitors.  But,  in  order  that  the  execution  of  this 
sentence  might  not  be  brought  too  palpably  before  the  public,  they  mixed  for 
four  months  together  a  slow  poison  in  nis  food."47 

This  statement  agrees  to  a  certain  extent  with  that  of  a  noble  Venetian, 
Pietro  Giustiniani,  then  in  Castile,  who  assured  the  historian  De  Thou  that 
"  Philip,  having  determined  on  the  death  of  his  son,  obtained  a  sentence  to 
that  effect  from  a  lawful  judge.  But,  in  order  to  save  the  honour  of  the 
sovereign,  the  sentence  was  executed  in  secret,  and  Carlos  was  made  to  swallow 
some  poisoned  broth,  of  which  he  died  some  hours  afterwards."  ** 

Some  of  the  particulars  mentioned  by  Antonio  Perez  may  be  thought  to 
receive  confirmation  from  an  account  given  by  the  French  minister,  Fourque- 
vaulx,  in  a  letter  dated  about  a  month  after  the  prince's  arrest.  "  The  prince," 
he  says.  "  becomes  visibly  thinner  and  more  dried  up ;  and  his  eyes  are  sunk 
in  his  head.  They  give  him  sometimes  strong  soups  and  capon  broths,  in 
which  amber  and  other  nourishing  things  are  dissolved,  that  he  may  not  wholly 
lose  his  strength  and  fall  into  decrepitude.  These  soups  are  prepared  privately 
in  the  chamber  of  Buy  Gomez,  through  which  one  passes  into  that  of  the 
prince." 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  a  Castilian  writer  should  have  the  temerity 
to  assert  that  the  death  of  Carlos  was  brought  About  by  violence.  Yet  Ca- 
brera, the  best-informed  historian  of  the  period,  who  in  hishoyhood  had  frequent 
access  to  the  house  of  Ruy  Gomez,  and  even  to  the  royal  palace,  while  he 
describes  the  excesses  of  Carlos  as  the  cause  of  his  untimely  end,  makes  some 
mysterious  intimations,  which,  without  any  forced  construction,  seem  to  point 
to  the  agency  of  others  in  bringing  about  that  event.** 

pages  from  each  ot  tier,  that  the  prince  did,  and  bonesto,  senza  curarsi  del  giudicio  d'  hunminl 

that  he  did  not,  confide  to  Don  John  hisdeaire  insmi,  et  die  parlano  senza  rugione  di  cow 

to  kill  his  father  (pp.  us.  152).     The  fact  is  impertinent!  et  impossibili  di  autori  incerti, 

that  Llorente  in  a  manner  pledged  himself  to  dappochi    et    maligni."     Lettera  di    Nobili, 

solve  the  mystery  of  the  prince's  death,  by  Luglio  30,  156s,  MS. 

announcing  to  his  n  adero,  at  the  out*  t,  that  "  Letter  of  Antonio  Perez  to  the  counsellor 
"be  believed  he  bad  discovered  the  truth."  Du  Vair,  ap.  Haunter,  Sixteenth  and  Seven- 
One  fuct  he  must  be  allowed  to  have  ertab-  teentu  Centuries,  vol.  l.  p.  153. 
lished, — one  which,  as  secretary  of  the  In-  '  "  Mais  afln  de  sauver  1'honneur  du  sang 
quisition,  be  bad  the  means  of  verifying, —  royal,  1'arrrt  fut  execute  en  set-ret,  et  on  lui 
namely,  that  no  process  was  ever  inxtltuted  fit  «v»ler  an  bouillon  empoisonne,  dont  il 
against  Carlos  by  toe  Holy  Office.  This  was  UK. unit  quelques  lieures  aprea,  au  commence- 
to  overturn  a  vulgar  error,  on  which  more  nient  de  sa  vingt-trobierae  annee."  De  Thou, 
than  one  writer  of  fiction  bait  built  bis  story.  H  i-t.-in-  universelle,  torn.  v.  p.  436. 

"  "  Le  cicalerie  et  nnvellacce  cbe  »i  dicono  "  "  Mas  es  peligroso  man-jar  vidrios,  i  dar 

sono  molto  indigne  dVssere  ancoltate,  non  cbe  ocaMon  de  tragedlas  taniosaa,  acaeclinienlos 

•critte,  percne  In  vero  il  »ali*rar  ul  popolacclo  notables,  riolentas  muertes  por  los  secret'* 

in   queste  siniili  cose  e   molto  difficile;    et  executores  Keal'-s no  sabidas,  1  por  lnesjierada.1 

e  (are  siccome  porta  il  giusto  et  I'  tcrribles,  1  por  la  estrafles*  i  rigor  dejuntidti. 


474  DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 

Strada,  the  best-informed,  on  the  whole,  of  the  foreign  writers  of  the  period, 
and  who,  as  a  foreigner,  had  not  the  same  motives  for  silence  as  a  Spaniard, 
qualifies  his  account  of  the  prince's  death  as  haying  taken  place  in  the  natural 
way,  by  saying,  "if  indeed  ne  did  not  perish  by  violence.""  The  prince  of 
Orange,  in  his  bold  denunciation  of  Philip,  does  not  hesitate  to  proclaim  him 
the  murderer  of  his  son.81  And  that  inquisitive  gossip-monger,  Brantome, 
amidst  the  bitter  jests  and  epigrams  which,  he  tells  us,  his  countrymen  levelled 
at  Philip  for  his  part  in  this  transaction,  quotes  the  authority  of  a  Spaniard  of 
rank  for  the  assertion  that  after  Carlos  had  been  condemned  by  his  father— in 
opposition  to  the  voice  of  his  council — the  prince  was  found  dead  in  his 
chamber,  smothered  with  a  towel !  •*  Indeed,  the  various  modes  of  death 
assigned  to  him  are  sufficient  evidence  of  the  uncertainty  as  to  any  one  of 
them.61  A  writer  of  more  recent  date  does  not  scruple  to  assert  that  the  only 
liberty  granted  to  Carlos  was  that  of  selecting  the  manner  of  his  death  out  of 
several  kinds  that  were  proposed  to  him  ;  *4 — an  incident  which  has  since  found 
a  more  suitable  place  in  one  of  the  many  dramas  that  have  sprung  from  his 
mysterious  story. 

In  all  this  the  historian  must  admit  there  is  but  little  evidence  of  positive 
value.  The  authors — with  the  exception  of  Antonio  Perez,  who  had  his 
account,  he  tells  us,  from  the  prince  of  Eboli — are  by  no  means  likely  to  have 
had  access  to  sure  sources  of  information ;  while  their  statements  are  con- 
tradictory to  one  another,  and  stand  in  direct  opposition  to  those  of  the  Tuscan 
minister  and  of  the  nuncio,  the  latter  of  whom  niad,  probably,  better  knowledge 
of  what  was  passing  in  the  councils  of  the  monarch  than  any  other  of  the 
diplomatic  body.  Even  the  declaration  of  Antonio  Perez,  so  important  on 
many  accounts,  is  to  a  considerable  degree  neutralized  by  the  fact  that  he  was 
the  mortal  enemy  of  Philip,  writing  in  exile,  with  a  price  set  upon  his  head  by 
the  man  whose  character  he  was  assailing.  It  is  the  hard  fate  of  a  person  so 
situated,  that  even  truth  from  his  lips  fails  to  carry  with  it  conviction.'4 

despnes  de  largas  ad  vertencias  a  los  que  no  misses  his  account  of  the  death  of  Carlos  with 

cuidando  deltas  incurrien.n  en  crimen  d-  lesa  the  remark  that,  of  all  the  passage*  in  the 

Magestad."    Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vii.  history  of  this  reign,  the  fate  of  the  young 

cap.  22. — The   admirable   obscurity  of  the  prince  is  the  one  involved  in  the  most  impe- 

passage,  in  which  the  historian  has  perfectly  netrable  mystery.     Matthieu,  Breve  Compen- 

succeeded  in  mystifying  his  critics,  has  natu-  dio  de  la  Vida  privada  de  Felipe  Segundo 

rally   led  them  to  suppose  that  more  was  (Span,  trans.),  MS. 

meant  by  him  than  tuerU  the  eye.  -  The  Abb£  St.  Real  finds  himself  unable 

**  "  Ex  morbo  ob  alimenta  partim  obstinate  to  decide  whether  Carlos  took  poison,  or,  like 

recusata,  partim  intemperanter  adgesta,  nimi-  Seneca,  had  his  veins  opened  in  a  warm  bath, 

amque  nivium  refrig-  rationem,  super  anlmi  or,  finally,  whether  be  was  strangled  with  a 

aegritudinem    (ti  modo  ms  abfu.il)  in  D.vi  silk  cord  by  four  slaves  sent  by  bis  father  to 

Jai-obi  pervigilio  extinctus  est."    Strada,  Ue  do  the  deed,  in  Oriental  fashion.    (Verdailera 

Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  378.  Historia  de  la  Vida  y  Muerte  del  Principe 

"  Apologie,  ap.  Dumont,  Corps  diploma-  Don  drlos.  Span,  trans.,  MS.)    The  doubts 

tique,  torn.  v.  par.  1,  p.  389.  of  St.  Real  are  echoed  with  formal  solemnity 

*•  "Parquoy  le  roi  conclud  sur  ses  ratsons  by  Leti,  Vita  di  Filippo  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  559. 

qnele  meilleur  estoit  de  le  fairemourir;  dont  "'  V»n  Raumer,  who  has  given  an  analysis 

un  matin  on  IP  trouva  en  prison  estouffe  d'un  of  this  letter  of  Antonio  Perez,  treats  it  lightly, 

Huge."    Brantome,  (Euvres,  torn.  i.  p.  320. —  as  coming    from   "  a  double-dealing,   bitter 

A  taste  for  jesting  on  this  subject  seems  to  enemy  of  Philip,"  whose  word  on  such  a  sulv 

hav    been  still  in  fashion  at  the  French  court  ject    was    of   little    value.    (Sixteenth    and 

as  late  as  Louis  the  Fourteenth's  time.     At  Seventeenth  Centuries,  vol.  i.  p.  155.)    It  was 

least,  we  find  tint  monarch  telling  some  one  certainly  a  singular  proof  of  confidence  in  one 

that  "  be  had  sent  Bussy  Rabutin  to  the  lias-  who  was  so  habitually  close  in  his  concerns 

tile  for  his  own  benefit,  as  Philip  the  Second  as  the  prime  of  Eboli,  that  he  should  have 

said  when  he  ordered  his  son  to  be  strangled."  made  such  a  communication  to  Perez.    Yet  it 

Lettres  de  Madame  de  Sevigne  (Paris,  1822),  must  be  admitted  that  the  narrative  derives 

torn.  viii.  p.  363.  some  confirmation  from  i  hn  fact  that  the  pre- 

*•  A  Friii.cli  contemporary  chronicler  dis-  ceding  poitiuua  of  the  letter  containing  it,  in 


SUSPICIOUS  CIRCUMSTANCES.  475 

If  we  reject  his  explanation  of  the  matter,  we  shall  find  ourselves  again 
thrown  on  the  sea  of  conjecture,  and  may  be  led  to  account  for  the  rumours 
of  violence  on  the  part  of  Philip  by  the  mystery  in  which  the  whole  of  the 
proceedings  was  involved,  and  the  popular  notion  of  the  character  of  the 
monarch  who  directed  them.  The  same  suspicious  circumstances  must  have 
their  influence  on  the  historian  of  the  present  day,  as,  with  insufficient  though 
more  ample  light  than  was  enjoyed  by  contemporaries,  he  painfully  endea- 
vours to  grope  his  way  through  this  obscure  passage  in  the  life  of  Philip. 
Many  reflections  of  ominous  import  naturally  press  upon  his  mind.  From 
the  first  hour  of  the  prince's  confinement  it  was  determined,  as  we  have  seen, 
that  he  was  never  to  be  released  from  it.  Yet  the  preparations  for  keeping 
him  a  prisoner  were  on  so  extraordinary  a  scale,  and  imposed  such  a  burden 
on  men  of  the  highest  rank  in  the  kingdom,  as  seemed  to  argue  that  his  con- 
finement was  not  to  be  long.  It  is  a  common  saying, — as  old  as  Machiavelli, 
— that  to  a  deposed  prince  the  distance  is  not  great  from  the  throne  to  the 
grave.  Carlos,  indeed,  had  never  worn  a  crown.  But  there  seemed  to  be  the 
same  reasons  as  if  he  had,  for  abridging  the  term  of  his  imprisonment.  All 
around  the  prince  regarded  him  with  distrust.  The  king,  his  father,  appeared 
to  live,  as  we  have  seen,  in  greater  apprehension  of  him  after  his  confinement 
than  before.**  "  The  ministers,  whom  Carlos  hated,"  says  the  nuncio,  "knew 
well  that  it  would  be  their  ruin  should  he  ever  ascend  the  throne."  *7  Thus, 
while  the  fears  and  the  interests  of  all  seemed  to  tend  to  his  removal,  we  find 
nothing  in  the  character  of  Philip  to  counteract  the  tendency.  For  when  was 
he  ever  known  to  relax  his  grasp  on  the  victim  once  within  his  power,  or  to 
betray  any  feeling  of  compunction  as  to  sweeping  away  an  obstacle  from  his 
path  f  One  has  only  to  call  to  mind  the  long  confinement,  ending  with  the 
midnight  execution,  of  Montigny,  the  open  assassination  of  the  prince  of 
Orange,  the  secret  assassination  of  the  secretary  Eseovedo,  the  unrelenting 
persecution  of  Perez,  his  agent  in  that  murder,  and  his  repeated  attempts  to 
despatch  him  also  by  the  hand  of  the  bravo.  These  are  passages  in  the  history 
of  Philip  which  yet  remain  to  be  presented  to  the  reader,  and  the  knowledge 
of  which  is  necessary  before  we  can  penetrate  into  the  depths  of  his  dark  and 
unscrupulous  character. 

If  it  be  thought  that  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  these  deeds  of 
violence  and  the  murder  of  a  son,  we  must  remember  that  in  affairs  of  religion 
Philip  acted  avowedly  on  the  principle  that  the  end  justifies  the  means  ;  that 
one  of  the  crimes  charged  upon  Carlos  was  defection  from  the  faith  ;  and  that 
Philip  had  once  replied  to  the  piteous  appeal  of  a  heretic  whom  they  were 
dragging  to  the  stake,  "  Were  my  son  such  a  wretch  as  thou  art,  I  would 
myself  carry  the  fagots  to  burn  huu  ! "  *• 

which  the  wriu-r  describes  the  arrest  of  Carlos,  be  desirable  to  leave  no  trace  of  violence  on 

conform  with  the  authentic  account  of  that  the  body  of  the  victim. 

event  a*  given  In  the  text.     It  is  worthy  of  **  If  we  may  take  Brantoine's  word,  there 

notice  that  both  De  Thou  and  Llorente  concur  was  some  ground  for  such  apprehension  at  all 

with  Perez  in  alleging  poison  as  the  cause  of  times:  "En  fin  il  estoit  un  terrible  masle; 

the  prince's  death.     Though  even  here  there  et  n'il  eust  vescu.  assurei-vous  qu'll  s'en  fust 

is  an  important  discrepancy  ;  1'en-z  asserting  faict  acroire,  et  qu'il  eust  mis  le  pere  en  cura- 

lt  waa  a  slow  poton,  taking  four  months  to  telle."    (Euvres,  torn.  i.  p.  323. 

work  its  effect,  while  the  other  authorities  "  "  Li  piu  favorltt  del  Re  erono  odlati  da 

say  that  Its  operation  waa  Immediate.     Their  lul  a  roorte,  et  ailesso  tanto  piti,  et  quando 

general  agreement,  moreover,  in  regard  to  the  questo  venisie  a  regnare  si  teneriano  rovinatl 

employment  of  poison,  Is  of  the  le-s  weight,  loro."      Lettera  del  Nunzio,  Ffbrulo  14,  I ;"•'•-, 

M  Mich  an  agency  would  be  the  one  naturally  MS. 

surmised  under  circumstances  where  ii  would  "  Ante,  p.  171.* — It  Is  In  this  view  that 

•  [M.Gacbard  remarks  that  he  was  inclined        to  discredit  th.s  terrible  speech,  till  he  found 


476  DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 

But,  in  whatever  light  we  are  to  regard  the  death  of  Carlos, — whether  as 
caused  by  violence,  or  by  those  insane  excesses  in  which  he  was  allowed  to 
plunge  during  his  confinement, — in  either  event  the  responsibility,  to  a  great 
extent,  must  be  allowed  to  rest  on  Philip,  who,  if  he  did  not  directly  employ 
the  hand  of  the  assassin  to  take  the  life  of  his  son,  yet  by  his  rigorous  treat- 
ment drove  that  son  to  a  state  of  desperation  that  Drought  about  the  same 
fatal  result.69 

While  the  prince  lay  in  the  agonies  of  death,  scarcely  an  hour  before  he 
breathed  his  last,  a  scene  of  a  very  different  nature  was  passing  in  an  adjoin- 
ing gallery  of  the  palace.  A  quarrel  arose  there  between  two  courtiers, — one 
of  them  a  young  cavalier,  Don  Antonio  de  Leyva,  the  other  Don  Diego  de 
Mendoza,  a  nobleman  who  had  formerly  filled  with  great  distinction  the  post 
of  ambassador  at  Rome.  The  dispute  arose  respecting  some  coplas,  of  which 
Mendoza  claimed  to  be  the  author.  Though  at  this  time  near  sixty  years  old, 
the  fiery  temperament  of  youth  had  not  been  cooled  by  age.  Enraged  at 
what  he  conceived  an  insult  on  the  part  of  his  companion,  he  drew  his  dagger. 
The  other  as  promptly  unsheathed  his  sword.  Thrusts  were  exchanged 
between  the  parties ;  and  the  noise  of  the  fracas  at  length  reached  the  ears 
of  Philip  himself.  Indignant  at  the  outrage  thus  perpetrated  within  the 
walls  of  the  palace  and  at  such  an  hour,  he  ordered  his  guards  instantly  to 
arrest  the  offenders.  But  the  combatants,  brought  to  their  senses,  had  suc- 
ceeded in  making  their  escape,  and  taken  refuge  in  a  neighbouring  church. 
Philip  was  too  much  incensed  to  respect  this  asylum  ;  and  an  alcalde,  by  his 
command,  entered  the  church  at  midnight  and  dragged  the  offenders  from  the 
sanctuary.  Leyva  was  put  in  irons,  and  lodged  in  the  fortress  of  Madrid  ; 
while  his  rival  was  sent  to  the  tower  of  Simancas.  "  It  is  thought  they  will 
pay  for  this  outrage  with  their  lives,"  writes  the  Tuscan  minister,  NobilL 
•  The  king,"  he  adds,  "  has  even  a  mind  to  cashier  his  guard  for  allowing 
them  to  escape."  Philip,  however,  confined  the  punishment  of  the  nobles  to 

Dr.  Salazar  de  Mendoza  does  not  shrink  from  king  was  an  Arian,  while  the  young  prince 

asserting  that,  if  Philip  did  make  a  sacrifice  was  a  Catholic,  and  might  have  saved  bis  life 

of  his  ton,  it  rivalled  in  sublimity  that  of  if  he  had  been  content  to  abjure  his  religion. 

Isaac  by  Abraham,  and  even  that  of  Jesus  By  the  Church  of  Rome,  therefore,  be  was 

Christ  by  the  Almighty !    "  Han  dicho  de  el  regarded  as  a  martyr ;  and  it  is  a  curious  cir- 

lo  que  del  Padre  Eterno,  qne  no  perdono  ;i  su  cumstancc  that  it  was  Philip  the  Second  who 

propio  Hijo.    Lo  que  del  Patriarca  Abraham  procured  the  canonization  of  the  slaughtered 

en  el  sacriflcio  de  Isaac  su  unigenito.    A  todo  Hermenegild  from  Pope  Sixtus  the  Fifth. — 

caso  humano  excede  la  gloria  que  de  esto  le  For  the  story,  taken  from  that  voluminous 

resulta,   y  no  hay  pon  quien    comparalla."  compilation  of  Floroz,  "/.a  Espana  sagrada ," 

(Dignidades  de  Castilla  y  Leon,  p.  417.)     He  I  am  indebted  to  Milman's  History  of  Latin 

closes  this  rare  piece  of  courtly  blasphemy  by  Christianity  (Tendon,  1854),  (vol.  1.  p.  446), 

assuring  us  that  in  point  of  fact  Carlos  died  a  one  of  the  most  remarkable  works  of  the  pre- 

natural  death.    The  doctor  wrote  in  the  early  sent  "age,  in  which  tne  author  reviews,  with 

part  of  Philip  the  Third's  reign,  when  the  curious  erudition  and  in  a  profoundly  philofo- 

manner  of  the  prince's  death  was  delicate  pbical  spirit,  the  various  changes  that  have 

ground  for  the  historian.  taken  place  in  the  Roman  hierarchy;  and 

•"  Philip  the  Second  is  not  the  only  Spanish  while  he  fully  exposes  the  manifold  errors 

monarch  who   has    been  charged  with  the  and   corruptions   of  the  system,  he  shows 

murder  of  his  son.     Leovogild,  a  Visigothic  throughout  that  enlightened  charity  which 

king  of  the  sixth  century,  having  taken  pri-  is  the  most  precious  of  Christian  graces,  as 

aoner  bis  rebel  son,  threw  him  into  aitungeou,  unhappily  it  is  the  rarest. 
where  he  was  secretly  put  to  death.    The 


It  confirmed  by  a  passage  in  a  letter  of  the  answer  I  could  get  from  his  majesty,"  he 
French  minister,  bebastien  de  1'Aubespine,  writes,  "  was,  that  if  it  were  his  own  son,  and 
who,  writing  to  Catherine  de  Medicis  in  he  had  sinned  in  this  particular,  he  would  put 
January,  1562,  relates  his  endeavours  to  ob-  him  to  death."  Gachard,  Don  Carlos  et  Phi- 
tain  the  release  of  the  queen's  apothecary,  lippe  II.,  torn.  i.  p.  57.— ED.] 
imprisoned  by  the  Inquisition.  "  The  only 


HIS  OBSEQUIES.  477 

banishment  from  court ; 70  and  the  old  courtier,  Mendoza,  profited  by  his 
exile  to  give  to  the  world  those  remarkable  compositions,  both  in  history  and 
romance,  that  form  an  epoch  in  the  national  literature.* 

A  few  days  before  his  death,  Carlos  is  said  to  have  made  a  will,  in  which, 
after  imploring  his  father's  pardon  and  blessing,  he  commended  his  servants 
to  his  care,  gave  away  a  few  jewels  to  two  or  three  friends,  and  disposed  of 
the  rest  of  his  property  in  behalf  of  sundry  churches  and  monasteries.71 
Agreeably  to  his  wish,  his  body  was  wrapped  in  a  Franciscan  robe,  and  was 
soon  afterwards  laid  in  a  coffin  covered  with  black  velvet  and  rich  brocade. 
At  seven  o'clock  that  same  evening,  the  reinains  of  Carlos  were  borne  from 
the  chamber  where  he  died,  to  their  place  of  interment.7* 

The  coffin  was  supported  on  the  shoulders  of  the  prince  of  Eboli,  the  dukes 
of  Infantado  and  Rio  Seco,  and  other  principal  grandees.  In  the  court-yard 
of  the  palace  was  a  large  gathering  of  the  members  of  the  religious  frater- 
nities, dignitaries  of  the  church,  foreign  ambassadors,  nobles  and  cavaliers 
about  the  court,  and  officers  of  the  royal  household.  There  were  there  also 
the  late  attendants  of  Carlos,— to  some  of  whom  he  had  borne  little  love, — 
who,  after  watching  him  through  his  captivity,  were  now  come  to  conduct 
him  to  his  final  resting-place.  Before  moving,  some  wrangling  took  place 
among  the  parties  on  the  question  of  precedence.  Such  a  spirit  might  well 
have  been  rebuked  by  the  solemn  character  of  the  business  they  were  engaged 
in,  which  might  have  reminded  them  that  in  the  grave,  at  least,  there  are  no 
distinctions.  But  the  perilous  question  was  happily  settled  by  Philip  himself, 
who,  from  an  open  window  of  the  palace,  looked  down  on  the  scene,  and,  with 
his  usual  composure,  gave  directions  for  forming  the  procession.7*  The  king 
did  not  accompany  it.  Slowly  it  defiled  through  the  crowded  streets,  where 
the  people  gave  audible  utterance  to  their  grief,  as  they  gazed  on  the  funeral 
pomp,  and  their  eyes  fell  on  the  bier  of  the  prince  who,  they  had  fondly 
hoped,  would  one  day  sway  the  sceptre  of  Castile,  and  whose  errors,  great  as 
they  were,  were  all  forgotten  in  his  unparalleled  misfortunes.74 

The  procession  movea  forward  to  the  convent  of  San  Domingo  Real,  where 
Carlos  had  desired  that  his  ashes  might  be  laid.  The  burial-service  was  there 
performed,  with  great  solemnity,  in  presence  of  the  vast  multitude.  But. 
whether  it  was  that  Philip  distrusted  the  prudence  of  the  preachers,  or  fearea 
some  audacious  criticism  on  his  conduct,  no  discourse  was  allowed  to  be  de- 
livered from  the  pulpit.  For  nine  days  religious  services  were  performed  in 
honour  of  the  deceased ;  and  the  office  for  the  dead  continued  to  be  read, 
morning  and  evening,  before  an  audience  among  whom  were  the  great  nobles 
and  the  officers  of  state,  clad  in  full  mourning.  The  queen  and  the  princess 
Joanna  might  be  seen,  on  these  occasions,  mingling  their  tears  with  the  few 
who  cherished  the  memory  of  Carlos.  A  niche  was  excavated  in  the  wall  of 

*°  Lettera  di  Nobili,  Lnglio  30.  1 568,  MS.  "  "  Partieron  con  el  cuerpo,  aviendo  el  Key 

71  I  have  before  me  another  will  made  by  con  la  entereza  de  animo  quo  raantuvo  sien- 

Don  Carlos  in  1561,  in  AlraU  de  Henares,  the  pre,  conpuesto  desde  una  ventana  la.-  diferen- 

original  uf  which  in  still  extant  In  the  Archives  cias  de  los  Consejot)  disposiendo  la  precedencia, 

of  Simancas.     In  one  Item  of  this  document  cesandoassi  la  competencia,"    Cabrera,  Fllipe 

be  bequeaths  five  thousand  ducats  to   l*m  Sogundo,  lib.  viil.  cap.  5. 

Martin  ilc  Cordova  for  his  gallant  defence  of  "  The  particulars  of  the  ceremony  are  given 

Mazarqulvir.  by  the  Nurizio,  Lettera  dl  28  di  l.uglio,  M.S. — 

"  Lettera  del  Nunzio,  Lnello  28,  1564.  MS.  See  also  Quintana,  Hlstoria  de  Madrid,  fol. 

— Quinta-ia,  llistoria  de  Madrid,  fol.  369.  369. 


•  [His  History  of  the  War  of  Grarada  was  Tonnes,  had  been  published  In  1553,  and  Is 
composed  during  his  exile,  but  the  work  by  supposed  to  have  been  written  while  the 
which  Meudoza  la  Dot  known  Laiarillo  de  author  was  a  student  at  Salamanca — ED.] 


478 


DEATH  OF  DON  CARLOS. 


the  church,  within  the  choir,  in  which  the  prince's  remains  were  deposited. 
But  they  did  not  rest  there  long.  In  1573  they  were  removed,  by  Philip's 
orders,  to  the  Escorial ;  and  in  its  gloomy  chambers  they  were  left  to  miugle 
with  the  kindred  dust  of  the  royal  line  of  Austria.'5 

Philip  wrote  to  Zuiiiga,  his  ambassador  in  Rome,  to  intimate  his  wish  that 
no  funeral  honours  should  be  paid  there  to  the  memory  of  Carlos,  that  no 
mourning  should  be  worn,  ana  that  his  holiness  would  not  feel  under  the 
necessity  of  sending  him  letters  of  condolence."  Zuniga  did  his  best.  But 
he  could  not  prevent  the  obsequies  from  being  celebrated  with  the  lugubrious 
pomp  suited  to  the  rank  of  the  departed.  A  catafalque  was  raised  in  the 
church  of  Saint  James  ;  the  services  were  performed  in  presence  of  the  ambas- 
sador and  his  attendants,  who  were  dressed  in  the  deepest  black  ;  and  twenty- 
one  cardinals,  one  of  whom  was  Granvelle,  assisted  at  the  solemn  ceremonies.77 
But  no  funeral  panegyric  was  pronounced,  and  no  monumental  inscription 
recorded  the  imaginary  virtues  of  the  deceased.78 

Soon  after  the  prince's  death,  Philip  retired  to  the  monastery  of  St.  Jerome, 
in  whose  cloistered  recesses  he  remained  some  time  longer  secreted  from  the 
eyes  of  his  subjects.  "  He  feels  his  loss  like  a  father,"  writes  the  papal 
nuncio,  "but  he  bears  it  with  the  patience  of  a  Christian."79  He  caused 


nuncio, 

"  Pinelo,  Anales  de  Madrid,  MS. — Quin- 
tana,  Hist'iru  d<3  Madrid,  fol.  369.—  Lettera 
del  Nunzio,  Luglio  28,  1563,  MS— Cabrera, 
Filipe  Segundo,  lib  v:il.  cap.  5.* 

"  Carta  del  Key  a  Zuniga,  Agosto  27, 1563, 
MS. 

77  "Digo  la  missa  el  Card-rial  Tarragona, 
asistiendo  a  las  bonras  21  cardenales  adeuias 
de  los  obispos  y  arzobispos."  Aviso  de  un 
Italiano  platico  y  familiar  de  Iluy  Gomez  de 
Silva,  MS. 

"  "Oracion  funebre,"  writes  the  follower 


of  Ruy  Gomez,  "  no  la  bubo,  pero  yo  hizo 
estos  epitaphios  y  versos  por  mi  consolacion." 
Ibid. — Whatever  "consolation"  the  Latin 
doggerel  which  follows  in  the  original  may 
have  given  to  its  author,  it  would  have  too 
little  interest  for  the  reader  to  be  quoted  here. 
'•'  "  II  lie  como  padre  ha  sentito  mclto,  ma 
come  cbristiano  la  compprta  con  quella  pati- 
enza  con  che  dovemo  ricevere  le  tribulation! 
che  ci  manda  Nostro  Signore  Dio."  Lettera 
dei  Nunzio,  Luglio  24,  1568,  MS. 


*  [Among  other  rumours  in  regard  to  tha 
prince's  death  was  one  that  he  had  been  be- 
headed. It  is  even  asserted  in  the  Memoirs 
of  Saint-Simon  that  the  body  lay  in  the  coffin 
with  the  head  separated  from  it  and  placed 
between  the  legs.  This,  at  least,  seems  to  be 
disproved  by  a  manuscript  which  came  into 
Prescott's  possession  after  the  first  publica- 
tion of  the  present  volume,  and  which  he 
transmitted  to  M.  Gachard,  by  whom  it  bus 
been  printed.  It  is  dated  ait  the  Kscorial, 
August  2nd,  1795,  and  bears  no  signature,  but 
is  conjectured  by  M.  Gachard  to  have  been 
written  by  a  person  holding  some  post  at  tha 
Spanish  court.  The  writer  states  that  he  had 
seen  the  body  of  Carlos,  which  was  entire 
and  showed  only  such  changes  as  the  length 
of  time  which  had  elapsed  sane*  his  death 
would  naturally  have  produced.  But  a  better- 
authenticated  account  of  the  condition  and 
appearance  of  the  body  in  1812,  when  it  was 
exhumed  by  order  of  Colonel  Bory  de  Saint- 
Vincent,  an  officer  on  the  staff  of  Marshal 
Soult,  is  also  cited  by  M.  Gachard.  It  was 
written  by  Colonel  Bory  himself,  and  origi- 
nally printed  by  the  Baron  de  Reiffenberg  in 
his  edition  of  Vandervynckt's  Histoire  des 
TroiMet  de»  Pays-Rat.  The  coffin  was  found 
in  its  proper  position  relatively  to  those  of 


the  other  members  of  the  family,  ranged 
in  order  of  date;  but  it  was  so  much 
heavier  than  any  of  the  rest  that  it  could  not 
be  entirely  lifted  out  of  >he  place  of  deposit. 
It  was  supported,  however,  and  the  lid,  having 
evidently  been  removed  on  a  former  occasion 
and  clumsily  replaced,  was  easily  detached. 
••Instead  of  a  fine  mummy,"  continues  the 
writer,  "  habited  like  those  we  had  just  seen, 
we  found  compact  lime,  the  uneven  surface  of 
which  was  bard  and  pebbly.  This  lime  had 
been  removed  in  some  pieces,  as  if  to  seek 
traces  of  the  body,  which  had  no  doubt  been 
covered  with  it  in  order  to  prevent  recogni- 
tion. Some  parts  had  in  fact  been  laid  bare. 
On  tearing  off  other  pieces  of  this  substance, 
we  found  bones  and  ^rips  of  skin  or  flesh  re- 
duced to  the  consistence  of  old  rags."  The 
existence  of  the  skull  was  also  verified,  with 
inn  h  of  the  hair  well  preserved,  though  red- 
dish and  brittle,  but  with  no  remains  of  the 
integuments  either  on  the  frontal  or  parietal 
bones,  which  were  both  laid  bare.  An  attempt 
was  made  to  discover  if  the  vertebral  column, 
which  alone  could  be  supposed  to  have  es- 
caped corrosion,  were  intact;  but  it  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  arrival  of  an  orderly  to  announce 
that  the  army  was  in  motion. — ED.  j 


HIS  OBSEQUIES.  479 

despatches  to  be  sent  to  foreign  courts,  to  acquaint  them  with  his  late  bereave- 
ment. In  his  letter  to  the  duke  of  Alva  he  indulges  in  a  fuller  expression  of 
his  personal  feelings.  "  You  may  conceive,"  he  says,  "  in  what  pain  and 
heaviness  I  find  myself,  now  that  it  has  pleased  God  to  take  my  dear  son,  the 
prince,  to  himself.  He  died  in  a  Christian  manner,  after  having,  three  days 
before,  received  the  sacrament,  and  exhibited  repentance  and  contrition, — all 
which  serves  to  console  me  under  this  affliction.  For  I  hope  that  God  has 
called  him  to  himself,  that  he  may  be  with  him  evermore  ;  and  that  he  will 
grant  me  his  grace,  that  I  may  endure  this  calamity  with  a  Christian  heart 
and  patience." "' 

Thus,  in  the  morning  of  life,  at  little  more  than  twenty-three  years  of  age, 
perished  Carlos,  prince  of  Asturias.  No  one  of  his  time  came  into  the  world 
under  so  brilliant  auspices ;  for  he  was  heir  to  the  noblest  empire  in  Christen- 
dom ;  and  the  Spaniards,  as  they  discerned  in  his  childhood  some  of  the  germs 
of  future  greatness  in  his  character,  looked  confidently  forward  to  the  day 
when  he  should  rival  the  glory  of  his  grandfather,  Charles  the  Fifth.  But  he 
was  born  under  an  evil  star,  which  counteracted  all  the  gifts  of  fortune  and 
turned  them  into  a  curse.  His  naturally  wild  and  headstrong  temper  was 
exasperated  by  disease,  and,  when  encountered  by  the  distrust  and  alienation 
of  him  who  haa  the  control  of  his  destiny,  was  exalted  into  a  state  of  frenzy, 
that  furnishes  the  best  apology  for  his  extravagances,  and  vindicates  the  neces- 
sity of  some  measures,  on  the  part  of  his  father,  to  restrain  them.  Yet  can 
those  who  reject  the  imputation  of  murder  acquit  that  father  of  inexorable 
rigour  towards  his  child  in  the  measures  which  he  employed,  or  of  the  dreadful 
responsibility  which  attaches  to  the  consequences  of  them  ?  * 

•°  Raumer  has  given  an  extract  from  this  letter,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  vol.  i. 
p.  149. 


•  [M.  Gachard,  while  even  more  emphatic  his  will  and  sworn  to  secrecy  In  regard  to  all 
than  Prescott  in  his  condemnation  of  the  that  might  take  place,  forbidden  the  access  of 
cruel  treatment  and  "  moral  tortures  "  by  all  other  persons,  including  the  nearest  of  kin 
which  he  considers  Don  Carlos  to  have  been  and  the  highest  in  rank,  the  officials  of  the 
driven  to  desperation  and  bis  end  precipitated,  kingdom  and  the  representatives  of  foreign 
is,  on  the  other  hand,  far  more  decided  in  TV-  powers,  and  thus  prevented  all  publicity  or 
jecting  all  the  accounts  of  his  having  perished  any  relation  of  the  (acts  by  unsuspected  wit- 
by  violence.  He  dismisses  them,  indeed,  nesses.  Nor  does  the  presumption  against 
with  the  single  remark  that  "they  destroy  him  stop  here:  on  the  contrary,  it  is  strength- 
each  other."  But  the  Inconsistency  of  several  ened  at  every  step  of  the  inquiry  He  had  an- 
storics  in  regard  to  details  is  no  convincing  nounced  that  hisohject  was  one  not  to  be  gained 
proof  that  they  do  not  all  contain  the  essential  by  temporary  expedients,  and  had  made  known 
truth,  or  that  one  of  them  may  not  be  true  in  his  intention  that  Carlos  was  not  to  succeed 
every  particular.  Theie  were  contradictory  him  on  the  throne.  He  bad  intimated  that 
reports  in  regard  to  the  death  of  Montlgny,  his  son  was  by  his  mental  and  moral  defects 
leading  some  inquirers  to  discredit  altogether  unfitted  to  rule ;  but  no  council  of  physicians 
the  story  of  his  assassination  until  the  fact  was  summoned,  and  no  investigation  was 
uas  established  by  documentary  proof.  The  made  of  which  the  results  were  ever  published. 
I -.pillar  belief  seems  to  have  been  grounded  To  have  deprived  Carlos  of  the  succession 
(•imply  on  the  suspicious  circumstances  of  thn  without  the  fullest  proofs  of  his  incapacity 
case.  In  the  present  case  the  grounds  f •  r  a  would  have  been  all  but  Impossible  ;  and  even 
like  belief  are  far  stronger  and  more  abundant.  could  the  legal  impediments  have  been  re- 
Tbe  circumstances  were,  indeed,  such  as  to  moved  and  the  assent  of  the  cortes  obtained, 
raise  a  strong  prenumptlon  against  Philip,  this  would  only  have  had  the  effect  of  dividing 
mid  throw  upon  him  the  burden  of  proof, —  the  nation  and  sowing  the  seeds  of  civil  war. 
not,  indeed,  in  a  court  of  law,  could  he  have  There  was,  therefore,  no  sure  way  in  which 
been  brought  before  such  a  tribunal,  but  be-  Philip  could  deprive  bis  son  of  his  inheritance 
fore  the  bar  of  history,  where  he  now  stands.  except  by  depriving  him  of  his  life.  That 
He  had  fleprlvrdCarlos  of  his  liberty,  immured  the  obstacle  thus  presented  would  not  have 
him  in  the  strictest  confinement,  surrounded  seemed  insurmountable  in  his  eyes,  we  know 
him  with  bis  owu  creatures  bound  to  execute  both  from  bis  own  words  and  from  the  general 


480 


DEATH  OF  ISABELLA. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DEATH  OF   ISABELLA. 

Queen  Isabella— Her  Relations  with  Carlos-Uer  Illness  and  Death— Her  Character. 

1568. 

THREE  months  had  not  elapsed  after  the  young  and  beautiful  queen  of  Philip 
the  Second  had  wept  over  the  fate  of  her  unfortunate  step-son,  when  she  was 
herself  called  upon  to  follow  him  to  the  tomb.  The  occurrence  of  these  sad 
events  so  near  together,  and  the  relations  of  the  parties,  who  had  once  been 
designed  for  each  other,  suggested  the  idea  that  a  criminal  passion  subsisted 
between  them,  and  that,  after  her  lover's  death,  Isabella  was  herself  sacrificed 
to  the  jealousy  of  a  vindictive  husband. 

One  will  in  vain  look  for  this  tale  of  horror  in  the  native  historians  of 
Castile.  Nor  does  any  historian  of  that  day,  native  or  foreign,  whom  I  have 
consulted,  in  noticing  the  rumours  of  the  time,  cast  a  reproach  on  the  fair  fame 
of  Isabella ;  though  more  than  one  must  be  allowed  to  intimate  the  existence 
of  the  prince's  passion  for  his  step-mother.1  Bran  tome  tells  us  that  when 

1  Besides  Brantome  and  De  Then,  elsewhere  as  the  cause  of  his  death."  (B_reve  Compendia 
noticed  in  this  connection,  another  writer  of 
that  age,  Pierre  Matthieu,  the  royal  historic- 
grapher  of  France,  may  be  thought  to  insinuate 
something  of  the  kind,  when  he  tells  us  that 
"the  circumstance  of  Isabella  so  soon  following 
Carlos  to  the  tomb  had  suggested  very  diffe- 
rent grounds  from  those  he  had  already  given 


de  la  Vida  privada  del  Rey  Felipe  Segundo, 
MS.)  But  the  French  writer's  account  of 
Philip  is  nearly  as  apocryphal  as  the  historical 
romance  of  St.  Real,  who,  in  all  that  relates 
to  Carlos  in  particular,  will  be  found  largely 
indebted  to  the  lively  imagination  of  bis  pre- 
decessor. 


tenor  of  his  acts.  And  with  Philip  were 
leagued,  as  his  chief  counsellors  and  hi» 
special  confidants  in  this  affair,  Kuy  Gomez 
an  i  Espinosa,  to  both  of  whom  Carlos  bad 
shown  himself  inimical,  and  who,  as  was 
noted  by  all  observers  at  the  time,  had  cause 
to  tremble  for  their  own  safety  if  he  were 
suffered  to  live  and  reign 

The  question  remains  whether  the  pre- 
sumption thus  raised  is  overcome  by  the  cre- 
dibility of  the  relations  put  forth  at  the  timo 
in  regard  to  the  death  of  Carlos.  These  rela- 
tions are  twofold.  The  official  account,  ad- 
dressed to  the  municipalities,  recites  briefly 
and  generally  the  prince's  excesses  in  eating 
and  in  the  use  of  i,e  and  iced  water,  followed 
by  long  abstinence  from  food  and  consequent 
reduction  of  the  system,  as  the  causes  of  his 
death.  This  account  is  considered  by  M. 
Gachard  as  on  many  grounds  unworthy  of 
credence.  But  surely  the  fact  that  the  story 
sent  forth  by  Philip  bears  the  marks  of  false- 
hood warrants  the  inference  that  he  had  strong 
motives  for  concealing  the  truth.  M.  Gachard, 
however,  while  rejecting  this  story,  accepts 
as  probable  and  sufficiently  authenticated  that 
which  is  found  in  the  letters  of  several  of  the 
foreign  ministers,  though  it  is  neither  dis- 
similar in  character  nor  better  supported  by 
evidence.  It  is  given  by  some  of  the  writers 
as  only  one  <  f  many  rumours,  and  by  the 
others  without  any  mention  of  their  authority, 


but  impliedly  as  the  account  allowed  to  be 
current  at  the  court.  It  attiibutes  the  death 
of  Carlos  to  his  having  eaten  a  huge  pasty  of 
partridges,  so  highly  seasoned  as  to  product 
an  intolerable  thirst,  which  he  sought  to 
relieve  by  enormous  draughts  of  water,  the 
result  being  a  violent  seizure  of  vomitings 
and  discharges  from  the  bowels,  ending  in  a 
debility  of  the  stomach  which  rendered  all 
remedies  unavailing.  Anything  more  sus- 
picious than  this  story  it  would  be  difficult  to 
conceive.  It  has  all  the  air  of  having  be<n 
invented  to  account  for  symptoms  and  ap- 
pearances which  would  have  pointed  at  once 
to  the  administration  of  poison, — the  mode  of 
death  alleged  by  Antonio  Perez,  whose  testi- 
mony has  been  too  lightly  discredited,  as  well 
as  by  Ite  Thou  and  Llorente.  Even  if  the 
facts  be  accepted,  the  only  construction  to 
which  they  are  subject  is  one  that  makes  no 
essential  difference  in  regard  to  the  question 
at  issue.  If  those  who,  when  Carlos  was  at 
libeity,  bad  restricted  his  diet  to  a  measured 
quantity  of  the  simplest  food,  placed  before 
him  when  a  prisoner  the  dish  described  and 
allowed  him  to  devour  it.  their  intention  can- 
not lie  doubtful.  If  the  account  by  Colonel 
Bory  de  Saint-Vincent  of  the  disinterment  of 
the  body  and  its  condition  be  acceptsd  as 
trustworthy,  the  evidence  against  Philip  will 
be  complete. — £j>.J 


ISABELLA'S  RELATIONS  WITH  CARLOS.  481 

Carlos  first  saw  the  queen  "  he  was  so  captivated  by  her  charms  that  he  con- 
ceived from  that  time  a  mortal  spite  against  his  father,  whom  he  often  re- 
proached for  the  great  wrong  he  had  done  him  in  ravishing  from  him  this 
fair  prize."  "  Ana  this,"  adds  the  writer,  "  was  said  in  part  to  have  been 
the  cause  of  the  prince's  death  ;  for  he  could  not  help  loving  the  queen  at  the 
bottom  of  his  soul,  as  well  as  honouring  and  reverencing  one  who  was  so  truly 
amiable  and  deserving  of  love."  *  He  afterwards  gives  us  to  understand  that 
many  rumours  were  afloat  in  regard  to  the  manner  of  the  queen's  death,  and 
tells  a  story,  not  very  probable,  of  a  Jesuit  who  was  banished  to  the  farthest 
Indies  for  denouncing,  in  his  pulpit,  the  wickedness  of  those  who  could  destroy 
so  innocent  a  creature.* 

A  graver  authority,  the  prince  of  Orange,  in  his  public  vindication  of  his 
own  conduct,  openly  charges  Philip  with  the  murder  of  both  his  son  and  his 
wife.  It  is  to  be  noticed,  however,  that  he  nowhere  intimates  that  either  of 
the  parties  was  in  love  with  the  other ;  and  he  refers  the  queen's  death  to 
Philip's  desire  to  open  the  way  to  a  marriage  with  the  Princess  Anne  of 
Austria.4  Yet  these  two  authorities  are  the  only  ones  of  that  day,  so  far  as  I 
am  aware,  who  have  given  countenance  to  these  startling  rumours.  Both  were 
foreigners,  far  removed  from  the  scene  of  action  :  one  of  them  a  light,  garrulous 
Frenchman,  whose  amusing  pages,  teeming  with  the  idle  gossip  of  the  court, 
are  often  little  better  than  a  Chronigue  Scandaleuse  ;  the  other,  the  mortal 
enemy  of  Philip,  whose  character — as  the  best  means  of  defending  his  own — 
he  was  assailing  with  the  darkest  imputations. 

No  authority,  however,  beyond  that  of  vulgar  rumour,  was  required  by  the 
unscrupulous  writers  of  a  later  time,  who  discerned  the  capabilities  of  a  story 
like  that  of  Carlos  and  Isabella,  in  the  situations  of  romantic  interest  which  it 
would  open  to  the  reader.  Improving  on  this  hint,  they  have  filled  in  the  out- 
lines of  the  picture  with  the  touches  of  their  own  fancy,  until  the  interest  thus 
given  to  this  tale  of  love  and  woe  has  made  it  as  widely  known  as  any  of  the 
classic  myths  of  early  Grecian  history.* 

'  "Aussi  dit  on  que  cela  fut  cau<e  de  M  incomperta  rant,  etiam  veris  dissimllia  vklen- 

mort  en  partie,  avec  d'autres  subjects  que  tur."     Be  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  379.* 
je  ne  dirai  point  a  ceste  heure ;  car  11  ne  HO  ''  At  the  beud  of  these  writers  must  un- 

pouvolt    garder  de    1'aimer    dans  son   arae,  doubtedly  be  placed  the  Abbe  St.  Real,  with 

I'll' 'nurer  el  reverer.tant  ilia  trouvoitaymable  whose  rumantic  history  of  Don  Carlos  I  am 

et  agreable  a  ses  yeux,  com  me  certes  elle  only  acquainted  in  the  Castilian  translation. 

1'rstoit  on  tout."     Brantume,  CEuvres,  torn.  entitled   "  Verdadera  Historia  de  la  Vida  y 

v.  p.  128.  Muerta  del  Princii*  Don  Carlos."     Yet,  ro- 

'  "  Luy  eschappa  de  dire  qne  c'avoit  est£  mance  as  it  is.  more  than  one  grave  historian 

fait  fort  meschamment  de  1'avoir  fait  muurir  has  not  disdained  to  transplant  its  flowers  of 

et    si    innocentemente,  dont    il    fut    banny  fiction  into  his  own  barren  pages.     It  is  eUi- 

jnsquesau  plus  profond  des  Indes  d'Kspagne.  fying  to  sec  the  manner  in  which  Lett,  who 

Cela  ect  Ires  que  Tray,  a  ce  que  Ton  dit."  stands  not  a  little  indebted  to  St.  Real,  after 

Ibid.,  p.  132.  stating  the  scandalous  rumours  in  regard  to 

4  Apologle,   ip.   Dumont,  Corps  diploma-  Curios  and  Isabella,  concludes  by  declaring, 

tlqne,  torn.  v.  par.  1,  p.  389. — Strada.  while  "Ma  come  io  tcrivo  historia,  e  non  romanzo. 

he  notices  the  common  rumours  respecting  non  posso  afftrmar  nulladi  certo,  percbenulla 

Carlos  and  Isabella,  dismlsfte*  them  as  wholly  di  ccrto  ho  possato  raccore."     Leti,  Vita  di 

unworthy  of  credit:   "Mihi,  super  id  quod  Filippo  11., torn.  i.  p.  560. 

•  [A  brief  citation  of  facts  and  dates  will  duke  Charles,  whom  he  was  sending  on  a 

suffice  to  refute  the  theory  put  forth  In  the  mission  to  Madrid,  to  conclude  the  alliance 

Apology.     In  letters  written  on  the  19th  of  with  Charles  IX.      Before  he  could  set  out. 

May,  Philip  definitively  renounced  the  project  Intelligence  arrived  of  the  death  of  Carlos, 

of  a  marriage  between  Carlos  and  the  arch-  followed,  while  he  was  on  his  way,  by  that  of 

duchess  Anne,  and  recommended   that  she  the  queen's  decease.     He  was  then  instructed 

should  accept  an  offer  which  had  been  made  to  offer  his  lister's  hand  to  I'bilip,  who  cannot, 

by  the  French   king.      Maximilian  accord-  therefore,  have  expected  the  proposal,  though 

iugly    empowered    bis    brother,    the    arch-  be  readily  accepted  It.— Eu.] 

2  i 


482  DEATH  OF  ISABELLA. 

Fortunately,  we  have  the  power,  in  this  case,  of  establishing  the  truth  from 
unsuspicious  evidence, — that  of  Isabella's  own  countrymen,  whose  residence  at 
the  court  of  Madrid  furnished  them  with  ample  means  of  personal  observation. 
Isabella's  mother,  the  famous  Catherine  de  Medicis,  associated  with  so  much 
that  is  terrible  in  our  imaginations,  had  at  least  the  merit  of  watching  over  her 
daughter's  interests  with  the  most  affectionate  solicitude.  This  did  not 
diminish  when,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  Elizabeth  of  France  left  her  own  land 
and  ascended  the  throne  of  Spain.  Catherine  kept  up  a  constant  correspond- 
ence with  her  daughter,  sometimes  sending  her  instructions  as  to  her  conduct, 
at  other  times  medical  prescriptions  in  regard  to  her  health.  She  was  careful 
also  to  obtain  information  respecting  Isabella's  mode  of  life  from  the  French 
ambassadors  at  the  court  of  Castile ;  and  we  may  be  quite  sure  that  these 
loyal  subjects  would  have  been  quick  to  report  any  injurious  treatment  of  the 
queen  by  her  husband, 

A  candid  perusal  of  their  despatches  dispels  all  mystery, — or,  rather,  proves 
there  never  was  any  cause  for  mystery.  The  sallow,  sickly  boy  of  fourteen — 
for  Carlos  was  no  older  at  the  time  of  Isabella's  marriage — was  possessed  of 
too  few  personal  attractions  to  make  it  probable  that  he  could  have  touched 
the  heart  of  his  beautiful  step-mother,  had  she  been  lightly  disposed.  But  her 
intercourse  with  him  from  the  first  seems  to  have  been  such  as  naturally  arose 
from  the  relations  of  the  parties,  and  from  the  kindness  of  her  disposition, 
which  led  her  to  feel  a  sympathy  for  the  personal  infirmities  and  misfortunes 
of  Carlos.  Far  from  attempting  to  disguise  her  feelings  in  this  matter,  she 
displayed  them  openly  in  her  correspondence  with  her  mother,  and  before  her 
husband  and  the  world. 

Soon  after  Isabella's  arrival  at  Madrid,  we  find  a  letter  from  the  bishop  of 
Limoges  to  Charles  the  Ninth,  her  brother,  informing  him  that  "  his  sister,  on 
entering  the  palace  of  Madrid,  gave  the  prince  so  gracious  and  affectionate  a 
reception  that  it  afforded  singular  contentment  to  the  king,  and  yet  more  to 
Carlos,  as  appeared  by  his  frequent  visits  to  the  queen,— as  frequent  as  the 
etiquette  of  a  court  much  stiffer  than  that  of  Paris  would  permit." 8  Again, 
writing  in  the  following  month,  the  bishop  speaks  of  the  queen  as  endeavouring 
to  amuse  Carlos,  when  ne  came  to  see  her  in  the  evening,  with  such  innocent 
games  and  pastimes  as  might  cheer  the  spirits  of  the  young  prince,  who  seemed 
to  be  wasting  away  under  nis  malady.7 

The  next  year  we  have  a  letter  to  Catherine  de  Medicis  from  one  of  Isa- 
bella's train,  who  had  accompanied  her  from  France.  After  speaking  of  her 
mistress  as  sometimes  supping  in  the  garden  with  the  princess  Joanna,  she 

•"Monsieur    le  prince  d'Hespaigne    fort  fevrier,  1559,  Negotiations  relatives  auRegne 

extenue,  la  vint  saltier,  qu'elle  recent  avec  de  Francois  II.,  p.  272. 

tclle  caresse  et  comportement,  que  si  le  pere  '  "  Ayant  ladite  dame  mis  toute  la  peine 

et  toute  la  compaignie  en  ont  receu  ung  singu-  qu'il  a  este.  possible  a  Iny  donner,  aux  soirs, 

lier  contentement  ledit  prince  1'a  encores  plus  quelque  plaisir  du  bail  et  autres  bonnestes 

grand,  comme  il  a  desmonstre  depuis  et  de-  pas-etemps,  desqucls  il  a  bon  besoin,  car  le 

rnonstre  lorsqu'il  la  visile,  qui  ne  peut  estre  pauvre  prince  est  si  has  et  extenue,  il   va 

touvent ;  car,  outre  que  les  conversations  de  d'lieure  a  heure  tantafToiblissant,  qtle  les  plus 

ce  pays  ne  sont  pas  si  frequentes  et  faciles  Pages  de  ces<te  court  en  ont  bien  petite  espe- 

qu'en  France,  sa  fievre   quarte  le  travaille  ranee."      L'fiveque  de  Limoges  au  Rui,  !«• 

tellement,  que  de  jour  en  jour  il  va  s'exte-  mars,  1569,  Ibid.,  p.  291.* 
nuant."      L'fiveque  de  Limoges  au  Roi,  23 


*  (The  reports  that  Carlos  was  "wasting  this  period  contain  such  frequent  and  hopeless 

away"  would,  for  obvious  reasons,  be  very  accounts  of  the  prince's  health  as  those  of  the 

agreeable  to  Catherine  de  Medicis  and  the  French  minister.— ED.] 
French  court.    None  of  the  oth.er  letters  of 


HER  RELATIONS  WITH  CARLOS.  483 

says  they  were  often  joined  there  by  "  the  prince,  who  loves  the  queen  singu- 
lafiy  well,  and,  as  I  suspect,  would  have  had  no  objection  to  be  more  nearly 
related  to  her." 8  There  is  nothing  improbable  in  the  supposition  that  Carlos, 
grateful  for  kindness  to  which  he  had  not  been  too  much  accustomed, 
should,  as  he  grew  older,  have  yielded  to  the  influence  of  a  princess  whose 
sweet  disposition  and  engaging  manners  seem  to  have  won  the  hearts  of  al] 
who  approached  her,  or  that  feelings  of  resentment  should  have  mingled  with 
his  regret  as  he  thought  of  the  hard  fate  which  had  placed  a  barrier  between 
them.  It  is  possible,  too,  when  we  consider  the  prince's  impetuous  temper, 
that  the  French  historian  De  Thou  may  have  had  good  authority  for  asserting 
that  Carlos,  "  after  long  conversations  in  the  queen's  apartment,  was  often 
heard,  as  he  came  out,  to  complain  loudly  of  his  father's  having  robbed  him  of 
her." 9  But  it  could  have  been  no  vulgar  passion  that  he  felt  for  Isabella,  and 
certainly  it  received  no  encouragement  from  her,  if,  as  Brantome  tells  us, 
"  insolent  and  audacious  as  he  was  in  his  intercourse  with  all  other  women,  he 
never  came  into  the  presence  of  his  step-mother  without  such  a  feeling  of 
reverence  as  seemed  to  change  his  very  nature." 

Nor  is  there  the  least  evidence  that  the  admiration  excited  by  the  queen, 
whether  in  Carlos  or  in  the  courtiers,  gave  any  uneasiness  to  Philip,  who  seems 
to'  have  reposed  entire  confidence  in  her  discretion.  And  while  we  find 
Isabella  speaking  of  Philip  to  her  mother  as  "  so  good  a  husband,  and  rendering 
her  so  liappy  by  his  attentions,  that  it  made  the  dullest  spot  in  the  world 
agreeable  to  her,"  "  we  meet  with  a  letter  from  the  French  minister,  Guibert, 
saying  that  "  the  king  goes  on  loving  the  queen  more  and  more,  and  that  her 
influence  has  increased  threefold  within  the  last  three  months."11  A  few 
years  later,  in  1565,  St.  Sulpice,  then  ambassador  in  Madrid,  writes  to  the 
queen-mother  in  emphatic  terms  of  the  affectionate  intercourse  that  subsisted 
between  Philip  and  nis  consort.  "  I  can  assure  you,  madam,"  he  says,  "  that 
the  queen,  your  daughter,  lives  in  the  greatest  content  in  the  world,  by  reason 
of  the  perfect  friendship  which  ever  draws  her  more  closely  to  her  husband. 
He  shows  her  the  most  unreserved  confidence,  and  is  so  cordial  in  his  treat- 
ment of  her  as  to  leave  nothing  to  be  desired."  '*  The  writer  quotes  a  declara- 
tion made  to  him  by  Philip,  that  "  the  loss  of  his  consort  would  be  a  heavier 
misfortune  than  had  ever  yet  befallen  him."  '* 

Nor  was  this  an  empty  profession  in  the  king,  as  he  evinced  by  his  indul- 
gence of  Isabella's  tastes,* — even  those  national  tastes  which  were  not  always 

•  "  La  royne  et  la  princesse  la  vlsitent  Wen       universelle,  torn.  v.  p.  434. 

•ouvcnt,  et  aopenten  un  jardin  quiest  aupres  "  ••  Vous    dires-ge,   madame,    quo    sy   ge 

de  la  meton,  et  le  prince  avoc  elles,  qni  aime  n'estoit  la  bonne  compaignie  <>u  Je  suis  en  se 

la  royne  singulierement,  dc  fafon  qu'il  ne  ce  lieu,  et  1'beur  que  j'al  de  voir  Urns  les  jours 

peut  soler  de  an  dire  blen.     Jt  ernyt  qu'il  le  roy  mon  seigneur,  Je  trouverois  se  lien  1'un 

voudroit  estrt  davantage  ton  parent."    Claude  des  plus  facheux  du  monde.     Mais  Je  voas 

d.-  ...  a  la  Reine  Mere,  aout,  1560,  Xego-  assure,  madame,  que  j'uy  un  si  bon  mari  et 

riations  relatives  au  Regne  de  Francois  II.,  snis  si  beureuse  que,  quant  II  le  seroit  cent 

p.  460.  foisdavant*ge,Jenem'y  facherois  point."    La 

•  "  On  entendit  an*sl  tres-sonvent  ce  Jeune  Relne  Cathollque  &  la  Reine  Mere,  Negocia- 
Prince,  lorsqu'il  sortoit  de  la  cbambre  de  la  lions  relativesau  Regne  de  Francois  11.,  p.  813. 
Reine  Elizabeth,  avt-c  qui  il  avoit  de  longs  et  "  Raunier,     Sixteenth    and    Seventeenth 
frequens  entretlrns,  se  plaindre  et  marquer  Centuries,  vol.  I.  p.  129. 

•a  colore  et  son  indignation,  de  ce  que  nun  pere  "  Ibid.,  p.  130. 

la  lul  avoit  enlevee."      De  Thou,  Hisloire  "  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 


[*  Not,  however,   by  his  fidelity    to    bis  trained  by  Catherine  de  Medlcls  to  ntter  the 

marriage-vows.    The  queen,  according  to  the  least  complaint.     Her  only  endeavour,  we  are 

Venetian  minister*  Tiepolo  and  Soranzo,  was  told,  was  to  please  him  and  to  act  In  all  thing* 

well  aware  of  her  husband's  gallnntrii  s,  which  conformably  to  his  will.  —  ED.] 
were  numerous,  but  she  bad  been  too  well 


484  DEATH  OF  ISABELLA. 

in  accordance  with  the  more  rigid  rules  of  Castilian  etiquette.  To  show  the 
freedom  with  which  she  lived,  I  may  perhaps  be  excused  for  touching  on  a 
few  particulars  already  noticed  in  a  previous  chapter.  On  her  coming  into  the 
country,  she  was  greeted  with  balls  and  other  festivities,  to  which  she  had 
been  accustomed  in  the  gay  capital  of  France.  Her  domestic  establishment 
•was  on  a  scale  of  magnificence  suited  to  her  station ;  and  the  old  courtier, 
BrantOnie,  dwells  with  delight  on  the  splendid  profusion  of  her  wardrobe  and 
the  costly  jewels  with  which  it  was  adorned.  When  she  went  abroad,  she 
dispensed  with  her  veil,  after  the  fashion  of  her  own  country,  though  so  much 
at  variance  with  the  habits  of  the  Spanish  ladies.  Yet  it  made  her  a  greater 
favourite  with  the  people,  who  crowded  around  her  wherever  she  appeared, 
eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  beautiful  features.  She  brought  into  the 
country  a  troop  of  French  ladies  and  waiting- women,  some  of  whom  remained 
and  married  in  Castile.  Such  as  returned  home  she  provided  with  liberal 
dowries.  To  persons  of  her  own  nation  she  was  ever  accessible, — receiving  the 
humblest  as  well  as  the  highest,  says  her  biographer,  with  her  wonted  benig- 
nity. With  them  she  conversed  in  her  native  tongue.  But  in  the  course  of 
three  months  her  ready  wit  had  so  far  mastered  the  Castilian  that  she  could 
make  herself  understood  in  that  language,  and  in  a  short  time  spoke  it  with 
elegance,  though  with  a  slight  foreign  accent,  not  unpleasing.  Born  and  bred 
among  a  people  so  different  from  that  with  whom  her  Tot  was  now  cast, 
Isabella  seemed  to  unite  in  her  own  person  the  good  qualities  of  each.  The 
easy  vivacity  of  the  French  character  was  so  happily  tempered  by  the  gravity 
of  the  Spanish  as  to  give  an  inexpressible  charm  to  her  manners.14  Thus 
richly  endowed  with  the  best  gifts  of  nature  and  of  fortune,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  Elizabeth  of  France  should  have  been  the  delight  of  the  courtly  circle 
over  which  she  presided  and  of  which  she  was  the  greatest  ornament. 

Her  gentle  nature  must  have  been  much  disturbed  by  witnessing  the  wild 
capricious  temper  of  Carlos  and  the  daily  increasing  estrangement  of  his 
father.  Yet  she  did  not  despair  of  reclaiming  him.  At  least,  we  may  infer 
so  from  the  eagerness  with  which  she  seconded  her  mother  in  pressing  the 
union  of  her  sister,  Catherine  de  Medicis'  younger  daughter,  with  the  prince. 
"  My  sister  is  of  so  excellent  a  disposition,"  the  queen  said  to  Ruy  Gomez, 
"that  no  princess  in  Christendom  would  be  more  apt  to  moderate  and  accom- 
modate herself  to  my  step-son's  humours,  or  be  better  suited  to  the  father,  as 
well  as  the  son,  in  their  relations  with  each  other." 1S  But,  although  the 
minister  readily  adopted  the  queen's  views  in  the  matter,  they  met  with  little 
encouragement  from  Philip,  wno  at  that  time  seemed  more  inclined  to  a  con- 
nection with  the  house  of  Austria. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  have  seen  the  pain  occasioned  to  Isabella  by 
the  arrest  of  Carlos.  Although  so  far  a  gainer  by  it  as  it  opened  to  her  own 
posterity  the  way  to  the  succession,  she  wept,  as  the  ambassador  Fourquevaulx 
tells  us,  for  two  days,  over  the  misfortune  of  her  step-son,  until  forbidden  by 
Philip  to  weep  any  longer.18  During  his  confinement,  as  we  have  seen,  she 

14  "  Ceste  taille,  elle  1'accompagnoit  d'un  bella  as  given  in  the  text, 

port,  d'une  majeste,  d'un  geste.d'un  marcher  ls  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 

et  d'une  grace  entremeslee  de  1'espagnole  et  turies,  vol.  i.  p.  131. 

de  la  l'ranf;oise  en  gravite  et  en  douceur."  "  Letter  of  Fourquevaulx,  February  8th, 

See  Brantome  (CEuvres,  torn.  v.  p.  129),  whose  1568,  ap.  Ibid.,  p.  139. f 
loyal  pencil  has  traced  the  lineaments  of  Isa- 

•f  [In  an   earlier  letter,  announcing  the  that  the  prince  also  IOVPS  her  marvellously." 

arrest   of  Carlos,    Fourquevaulx    writes    to  A  note  of  the  same  date  (January  19th)  from 

Catherine  de  Medicis,  "The  queen  is  afflicted  "  filizabet,"    as    she    subscribes    herself,    to 

at  it,  and  weeps  from  love  of  both,  seeing  Fourqueraulx,  has  been  preserved,  in  which 


HER  ILLNESS.  485 

was  not  permitted  to  visit  him,— not  even  to  soften  the  bitterness  of  his 
dying  hour.  And  how  much  her  presence  would  have  soothed  him  at  such  a 
time  may  be  inferred  from  the  simple  memorandum  found  among  his  papers,  in 
which  he  assigns  her  the  first  place  among  his  friends,  as  having  been  ever 
the  most  loving  to  him."  The  same  affection,  however  we  may  define  it,  which 
he  had  borne  her  from  the  first,  he  retained  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life.  All 
that  was  now  granted  to  Isabella  was  the  sad  consolation  of  joining  with  the 
princess  Joanna,  and  the  few  friends  who  still  cherished  the  memory  of  Carlos, 
in  celebrating  his  funeral  obsequies. 

Not  long  after  that  event,  it  was  announced  that  the  queen  was  pregnant ;  * 
and  the  nation  fondly  hoped  that  it  would  find  a  compensation  for  the  loss  of 
its  rightful  prince,  in  the  birth  of  a  new  heir  to  the  throne.  But  this  hope  was 
destined  soon  to  be  destroyed.  Owing  to  some  mismanagement  on  the  part 
of  the  physicians,  who,  at  an  early  penqd,  misunderstood  the  queen's  situation, 
the  medicines  they  gave  her  had  an  injurious  effect  on  her  constitution.18  It 
is  certain  that  Isabella  placed  little  confidence  in  the  Spanish  doctors,  or  in 
their  prescriptions."  There  may  have  been  good  ground  for  her  distrust; 
for  their  vigorous  applications  savour  not  a  little  of  the  Sangrado  school  of 
practice,  directed  quite  as  much  against  the  constitution  of  the  patient  as 
against  his  disease.  About  the  middle  of  September  a  fever  set  in,  which, 
though  not  violent,  was  so  obstinate  as  to  defy  all  the  efforts  of  the  physicians 
to  reduce  it.  More  alarming  symptoms  soon  followed.  The  queen  frequently 
swooned.  Her  extremities  became  torpid.  Medicines  were  of  no  avail,  for  her 
stomach  refused  to  retain  them.*0  Processions  were  everywhere  made  to  the 
churches,  and  young  and  old  joined  in  prayers  for  her  recovery.  But  these 
prayers  were  not  heard.  The  strength  pi  Isabella  continued  rapidly  to  decline, 
ana  by  the  last  of  September  her  life  was  despaired  of.  The  physicians 
declared  that  science  could  go  no  further,  and  that  the  queen's  only  nope  must 
be  in  Heaven.11  In  Heaven  she  had  always  trusted ;  nor  was  she  so  wedded 
to  the  pomps  and  glories  of  the  world  that  she  could  not  now  willingly  resign 
them. 

As  her  ladies,  many  of  them  her  countrywomen,  stood  weeping  around  her 
bed,  she  endeavoured  to  console  them  under  their  affliction,  kindly  expressing 

17  "OH  amid.  In  prirao  loco  la  Regina.  la  tico  del  Estudio  de  Madrid  (Madrid,  1569), 

quale  diceva  cbe  gli  era  am»revolissiuia.  Don  fol.  4. 

Giovanni  <!' Austria  *uo  carissinio  et  diletls-  •"  Ibid.,  nbl  supra.— The  learned  professor 

simo  zio,"  etc.     Lettera  del  Nunzio,  Marzi'2,  has  pi  ven  the  various  symptoms  of  the  queen's 

1568,  MS.  malady  with  as  curious  a  minuteness  as  if  lie 

"  Letter  of   Fonrquevanlz,   October  3rd,  had  been  concocting  a  medical  report.    As  an 

1568,  an.  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  order  was  issued,  shortly  after  llie  publica- 

Centurics,  vol.  I.  p.  158.  tlon  of  the  work,  prohibiting  its  sale,  copies 

i.  •>  pero  ja  Reyna  barla  mny  poco  caudal  of  it  are  exceedingly  rare. 

de   lo  que  los  medicos  decian,  dando  &  en-  "  yutnrana.  tlixtoriade  Madrid,  fol.  390 — 

tender  con  BU  Real  condicion  y  gracioso  sem-  Letter  of  Fourquevaulx,  October  3rd,  1568, 

blantetener  pocanecesidnddesusmedlcinas."  ap.  Kanmer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 

Relaclon  de  fa  Enfernvdad  y  Essequias  fune-  tnrlcs,  vol.  I.  p.  139. — Juan  Lopei,  Kelacion 

bresde  la  Serenissima  Reyna  de  Kspan.i  Dofia  de  la   Knfermedad  de  la   Reyna  Y'sabel,  ubi 

Ysabel  de  Valois,  por  Juan  Lopez.  Catedra-  supra.— Pinelo,  Anales  de  Mudrid,  MS. 


she  says  she  feels  the  misfortune  as  If  it  were  rait*  her.    Gacbard,  Don  Carlos  et  Philippe  II. 

that  of  her  own  son,  being  indebted  to  the  — Ei>  ] 

prince  for  his  friendship, and  wishing  to  serve  •  [The  fact  had  been  known  by  the  court 

Dim  In  return.     "  Dku  a  voulu  qu'il  est  de-  long  previously.    The  Tuscan  minister.  In  a 

clare  ce  qn'il  est,  a  m«n  grand  regret."    The  letter  of  March  30th,  says  it  wan  f-  ared  that 

king,  whose  pain  at  being  compelled  to  such  her  grief  on  account  of  the  prince's  Imprison- 

a  measure  also  afflicts  her,  has  commanded  mirnt  would  occasion  a  miscarriage.— ED.] 
ber  not  to  write  about  the  matter  till  be  per- 


486  DEATH  OF  ISABELLA. 

the  interest  she  took  in  their  future  welfare,  and  her  regret  that  she  had  not 
made  them  a  better  mistress, — "  as  if,"  says  a  contemporary,  who  has  left  a 
minute  record  of  her  last  moments,  "she  had  not  been  always  more  of  a  mother 
than  »  mistress  to  them  all ! "  M 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  of  October,  as  Isabella  felt  herself  drawing 
near  her  end,  she  made  her  will.  She  then  confessed,  partook  of  the  sacra- 
ment, and,  at  her  desire,  extreme  unction  was  administered  to  her.  Cardinal 
Espinosa  and  the  king's  confessor,  the  bishop  of  Cuensa,  who  were  present, 
while  they  offered  her  spiritual  counsel  and  consolation,  were  greatly  editied 
by  her  deportment ;  and,  giving  her  their  parting  benediction,  they  went 
away  deeply  affected  by  the  spirit  of  Christian  resignation  which  she  dis- 
played.23 

Before  daybreak,  on  the  following  morning,  she  had  her  last  interview  with 
Philip.  We  have  the  account  of  it  from  Fourquevaulx.  "  The  queen  spoke  to 
her  husband  very  naturally,"  says  the  ambassador,  "  and  like  a  Christian.  She 
took  leave  of  him  for  ever,  and  never  did  princess  show  more  goodness  and 
piety.  She  commended  to  him  her  two  daughters,  and  her  principal  atten- 
dants, beseeching  him  to  live  in  amity  with  the  king  of  France,  her  brother, 
and  to  maintain  peace, — with  other  discourse,  which  could  not  fail  to  touch 
the  heart  of  a  good  husband,  which  the  king  was  to  her.  He  -showed,  in  his 
replies,  the  same  composure  as  she  did,  and  promised  to  obey  all  her  requests, 
but  added,  he  did  not  think  her  end  so  near.  He  then  withdrew, — as  I  was 
told, — in  great  anguish,  to  his  own  chamber."24  Philip  sent  a  fragment  of 
the  true  cross,  to  comfort  his  wife  in  her  last  moments.  It  was  the  most 
precious  of  his  relics,  and  was  richly  studded  with  pearls  and  diamonds.25 
Isabella  fervently  kissed  the  sacred  relic,  and  held  it,  with  the  crucifix,  in  her 
hand,  while  she  yet  lived. 

Not  long  after  the  interview  with  her  husband,  the  ambassador  was  sum- 
moned to  her  bedside.  He  was  the  representative  of  her  native  land,  and  of 
the  dear  friends  there  she  was  never  more  to  see.  "  She  knew  me,  writes 
Fourquevaulx,  "and  said,  '  You  see  me  in  the  act  of  quitting  this  vain  world, 
to  pass  to  a  more  pleasant  kingdom,  there,  as  I  hope,  to  be  for  ever  with  my 
God.  Tell  my  mother,  the  queen,  and  the  king,  my  brother,  to  bear  my 
death  with  patience,  and  to  comfort  themselves  with  the  reflection  that  no 
happiness  on  earth  has  ever  made  me  so  content  as  the  prospect  now  does  of 
approaching  my  Creator.  I  shall  soon  be  in  a  better  situation  to  do  them 
service,  and  to  implore  God  to  take  them  and  my  brothers  under  his  holy 
protection.  Beseech  them,  in  my  name,  to  watch  over  their  kingdom,  that  an 
end  may  be  put  to  the  heresies  which  have  spread  there.  And  I  will  pray 
Heaven,  in  its  mercy,  to  grant  that  they  may  take  my  death  with  patience, 
and  hold  me  for  happy.' " 26 

The  ambassador  said  a  few  words  of  comfort,  endeavouring  to  give  her,  if 
possible,  some  hopes  of  life.  But  she  answered,  "  You  will  soon  Know  how 
near  I  am  to  my  end.  God  has  given  me  grace  to  despise  the  world  and  its 

**  "Porque  en  efecto,  el  modo  y  manera  Centuries,  vol.  1.  p.  159. 

conque  ella  las  trataba,  no  hera  de  senora  a  "  "  Habia  ordenado  se  tragese  el  lignum 

quien  pareciesen  servir,  sino  de  madre  y  com-  crucis  del  Rey  nuestro  Sefior,  que  es  una  muy 

pafiera."    Juan   Lopez.   Relacion  de  la  En-  buena  parte  que  con  grand ismo  hornato  de 

fermedad  de  la  Reyna  Ysabel,  loc.  clt.  oro  y  peilaa  de  supremo  valor  S.  M.  liene." 

"  Juan  Lopez,  Relacion  de  la  Enferniedad  Juan  Lopez,  Relacion  de  la  Enfermedad  de  la 

de  la  Reyna  Ysab.-l,  loc.  cit.— Pinelo,  Analea  Reyna  Isabel, 

de  Madrid,  MS.  **  Letter  of  Fourqnevanlx,    ap.   Raumer, 

11  Letter  of  Fourquevaulx,  October  3rd,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  vol.  1. 

1568,  ap.  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  p.  159. 


HER  OBSEQUIES.  487 

grandeur,  and  to  fix  all  my  hopes  on  him  and  Jesus  Christ.  Never  did  a 
thought  occasion  me  less  anxiety  than  that  of  death." 

"  She  then  listened  to  the  exhortations  of  her  confessor,  remaining  in  full 
possession  of  her  consciousness  till  a  few  minutes  before  her  death.  A  slight 
restlessness  seemed  to  come  over  her,  which  soon  subsided,  and  she  expired  so 
tranquilly  that  it  was  impossible  to  fix  the  moment  when  she  gave  up  the 
ghost.  Yet  she  opened  her  eyes  once,  bright  and  glancing,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  she  would  address  me  some  further  commands, — at  least,  her  looks  were 
fixed  on  me."  *T 

Not  long  before  Isabella's  death,  she  was  delivered  of  a  daughter.  Its  birth 
was  premature,  and  it  lived  only  to  be  baptized.  The  infant  was  laid  in  the 
same  coffin  with  its  mother ;  and  that  very  evening  their  remains  were  borne 
in  solemn  procession  to  the  royal  chapel.  The  tolling  of  the  bells  in  the 
churches  and  monasteries  throughout  the  city  announced  the  sad  tidings  to 
the  people,  who  filled  the  air  with  their  cries,  making  everywhere  the  most 
passionate  demonstrations  of  grief ; 2°  for  the  queen,  says  Erantome,  "  was 
regarded  bv  them  not  merely  with  feelings  of  reverence,  but  of  idolatry."  *• 

In  the  chapel  were  gathered  together  wnatever  was  illustrious  in  the  capital, 
— the  high  ecclesiastics,  and  the  different  religious  bodies,  the  grandees  and 
cavaliers  of  the  court,  and  the  queen's  ladies  of  honour.  At  the  head  of  these 
stood  the  duchess  of  Alva,  the  mistress  of  the  robes,  with  the  duchess  of  Feria 
— an  English  lady,  married  to  the  Spanish  ambassador  at  the  court  of  Mary 
Tudor — and  the  princess  of  Ebpli,  a  name  noted  in  history.  The  coffin  of  the 
deceased  queen,  covered  with  its  gorgeous  pall  of  brocade,  was  placed  on  a 
scaffold  shrouded  in  black,  and  surrounded  with  numerous  silver  sconces 
bearing  wax  tapers,  that  shed  a  gloomy  lustre  over  the  scene.81  The  services 
were  performed  amidst  the  deepest  stillness  of  the  audience,  unless  when 
broken  by  the  wailings  of  the  women,  which  mingled  in  sad  harmony  with  the 
chant  of  the  priests  and  the  sweet  and  solemn  music  that  accompanied  the 
office  for  the  dead." 

Early  on  the  following  morning  the  coffin  was  opened  in  presence  of  the 
duchess  of  Alva  and  the  weeping  ladies  of  her  train,  who  gazed  for  the  last 
time  on  features  still  beautiful  in  death.33  The  duchess  then  filled  the  coffin  with 

"  Letter  of  Fourquevaulx,  ap.  Ranmer,  Capilla  Real."    Ibid. 

loc.  cit. — The  correspondence  of  the  French  •"  "  Jainais  on  ne  vit  peuple  si  desole  ny 
ambassador  Kourquevaulx  ia  preserved,  in  si  afflige,  nt  tant  Jeter  de  hauls  cris,  ny  taut 
MS.,  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Paris.  Raumcr,  espamtre  de  larmes  qu'il  fit.  ...  Que,  pour 
with  his  usual  judgment,  has  freely  extracted  maniere  de  parlor,  vous  eussiez  dit  qu'il  1'ido- 
from  it ;  and  the  freedom  with  which  I  have  latroit  plustost  qu'il  ne  1'bonoroit  et  revcroit." 
drawn  upon  him  shows  the  importance  of  bis  Bnuitonie,  <  Kuvn  s,  torn.  v.  p.  131. 
extracts  to  the  illustration  of  the  pn-sent  ••'  "Puesto  el  cuerpo  por  este  orden  en- 
story.  I  regret  that  my  knowledge  of  the  bierto  con  un  mny  rico  pafko  de  brocado  ro- 
existence  of  this  correspondence  came  too  deado  el  cadalso  de  muobas  achaa  en  sns  rauy 
late  to  allow  me  to  draw  fiom  the  original  sumtuosos  blandonea  de  plata."  Juan  Lopez, 
sources.  Relacion  de  la  Enfcrmedad  de  la  Reyna 

"  "  Blstleron  a  la  Rcyna  de  hablto  de  S.  Ysabel,  ubi  supra. 

Francisco,  y  la   pusieron  en  un  ataud  poni-  "  "  Laa  damas  en  las  trlbnnoft  de  donde 

endo  con  ella  la  infanta  que  en  poco  espacio  oye  mlsa  con  hartos  suspires  y  solloros  lleba- 

bahiendo   recebldo  agua  de    Kspiritu   Santo  bun  el  contrapunto  t  la  suave,  triste  y  con- 

iinirio."     Juan  Lopez.  Relacion  de  la  Enter-  tetnplatiba    musics,    conqne    empezaron    el 

medad  de  la  Il<>yna  Ysahel.  oilcio  la  capllla  de  S.  M."     Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 

•"  "  Fue   cosa    increible  el  doblar,  y  cba-  "  "  Las  cuales  vlendo  apartar  el  cuerpo, 

morear,  por  tod.is  las  parroquias,  y  niona*-  dicron  muchos  gritos,  y  susplros  y  ahriendole 

terios,  y  ncspifales.     Lo  cual  eattftf  un  nucbo  la  duquesa  de  Alba,  trajo  muclios  polbos  do 

dolor  y  grandisiuio  aumento  de  trinteia,  sirndo  olores  aromaUcos  de  grande  olor  y  fragrancia, 

ya  algo  turde  los  grandes  que  en  la  corte  so  y  embalxamon  a  la  lU>yna :  la  cual   antique 

iiallahan.  y  mayordomos  dc  S.  M.  sacaron  rl  habla  pasudo  tanlo  tlempo  cstaba  como  si 

cnerpo  de  hi  Reyna,  y  biuleron  con  el  a  la  eiiloucca  acabara  de  morir,  y  cou  tail  gran 


488  DEATH  OF  ISABELLA. 

flowers  and  sweet-scented  herbs  ;  and  the  remains  of  mother  and  child  were 
transported  by  the  same  sorrowing  company  to  the  convent  of  the  bare-footed 
Carmelites.  Here  they  reposed  till  the  year  1573,  When  they  were  borne, 
with  the  remains  of  Carlos,  to  the  stately  mausoleum  of  the  Escorial ;  and  the 
populace,  as  they  gazed  on  the  funeral  train,  invoked  the  name  of  Isabella  as 
that  of  a  saint.3* 

In  the  course  of  the  winter,  Cardinal  Guise  arrived  from  France  with 
letters  of  condolence  from  Charles  the  Ninth  to  his  royal  brother-in-law.  The 
instructions  to  the  cardinal  do  not  infer  any  distrust,  on  the  part  of  the 
French  monarch,  as  to  the  manner  of  his  sisters  death.  The  more  suspicious 
temper  of  the  queen-mother,  Catherine  de  Medicis,  is  seen  in  her  directions  to 
Fourquevaulx  to  find  out  what  was  said  on  the  subject  of  her^daughter's  death, 
and  to  report  it  to  her."  It  does  not  seem  that  the  ambassador  gathered  any 
information  of  consequence  to  add  to  his  former  details. 

Philip  himself  may  have  had  in  his  mind  the  possible  existence  of  such 
suspicions  when  he  told  the  cardinal  that  "  his  best  consolation  for  his  loss  was 
derived  from  his  reflection  on  the  simple  and  excellent  life  of  the  queen.  All 
her  attendants,  her  ladies  and  maids,  knew  how  well  he  had  treated  her,  as 
was  sufficiently  proved  by  the  extraordinary  sorrow  which  he  felt  at  her 
death.  Hereupon,"  continues  the  cardinal, "  he  broke  forth  into  a  panegyric  on 
her  virtues,  and  said,  were  he  to  choose  again,  he  could  wish  nothing  better  than 
to  find  just  such  another.''  *°  It  was  not  long  before  Philip  made  the  attempt. 
In  eighteen  months  from  the  date  of  his  conversation  with  the  cardinal,  the 
thrice-widowed  husband  led  to  the  altar  his  fourth  and  last  wife,  Anne  of 
Austria, — like  her  predecessor,  as  we  have  seen,  the  destined  bride  of  his  son. 
The  facility  with  Which  her  imperial  parents  trusted  the  young  princess  to  the 
protection  of  Philip  may  be  thought  to  intimate  pretty  clearly  that  they,  at 
least,  had  no  misgivings  as  to  the  king's  treatment  of  his  former  wife.* 

Isabella,  at  her  decease,  was  but  twenty-three  years  of  age,  eight  of  which 
she  had  been  seated  on  the  throne  of  Spain.  She  left  two  children,  both 
daughters, — Catherine,  afterwards  married  to  the  duke  of  Savoy,  and  Clara 
Eugenia,  who  became  with  her  husband,  the  Archduke  Albert,  joint  ruler  of 
the  Netherlands,  and  who  seems  to  have  enjoyed  a  greater  share  of  both  the 
love  and  the  confidence  of  Philip  than  he  ever  vouchsafed  to  any  other  being. 

Such  is  the  story  of  Queen  Isabella,  stripped  of  the  colouring  of  romance, 
for  which,  in  truth,  it  has  been  quite  as  much  indebted  to  the  pen  of  the  his- 
torian as  to  that  of  the  poet.  From  the  whole  account  it  appears  that,  if 
Carlos  at  any  time  indulged  a  criminal  passion  for  his  step-mother,  such  a 
passion  was  never  requited  or  encouraged  by  Isabella,  who  seems  to  have  felt 
for  him  only  the  sentiments  that  were  justified  by  their  connection  and  by  the 
appeal  which  his  misfortunes  made  to  her  sympathy.  Notwithstanding  some 
feelings  of  resentment,  not  unnatural,  when,  in  the  words  of  Brantome,  "  he 
had  been  defrauded  of  so  fair  a  prize,"  there  is  yet  little  evidence  that  the 
prince's  passion  for  her  rose  higher  than  the  sentiments  of  love  and  gratitude 

hermosura  en  el  rostro  que  no  parecia  esta  Madrid,  fol.  370. 

mueita."    Juan  Lopez,  Relacion  de  laEnfer-  "  Letter  of  Catherine  de  Medicis,  ap.  Rau- 

medad  de  la  Reyna  Isabel,  ubi  supra.  mer,  vol.  1.  p.  162. 

"  Letter  of  St.  Gioar.  June  18th,  1573,  ap.  *•  Letter  of  Cardinal  Guise,  February  6th, 

Raumer,   Sixteenth   and   Seventeenth    Cen-  1569,  ap.  Raumer,  vol.  i.  p.  163. 
turies,  vol.  i.  p.  163.— Quintana,  Historia  de 


[*  The  proposal,  as  already  mentioned,  had  she  offered  another  of  her  daughters  for  the 
come  from  the  emperor.  Catlvrinede  Medicis  vacant  place.  Gachard,  Don  Carlos  et  Plii- 
also  no  sooner  heard  of  Isabella's  death  than  Hppe  II.— ED.] 


HER  CHARACTER.  489 

which  her  kindness  might  well  have  awakened  in  an  affectionate  nature." 
And  that  such,  with  all  his  errors,  was  the  nature  of  Carlos,  is  shown,  among 
other  examples,  by  his  steady  attachment  to  Don  John  of  Austria,  his 
uncle,  and  by  his  devotion  to  his  early  preceptor,  the  bishop  of  Osma. 

There  is  no  proof  that  Philip  was  at  any  time  displeased  with  the  conduct 
of  his  queen,  or  that  he  regarded  his  son  in  the  light  of  a  rival.  Least  of  all 
is  there  anvthing  in  the  history  of  the  time  to  show  that  he  sacrificed  his  wife 
to  his  jealousy.3*  The  contrary  is  well  established  by  those  of  her  own 
countrymen  who  had  free  access  to  her  during  her  lifetime, — some  of  them 
in  the  hour  of  her  death, — whose  correspondence  with  her  family  would 
not  have  failed  to  intimate  their  suspicions  had  there  been  anything  to 
suspect 

Well  would  it  be  for  the  memory  of  Philip  the  Second  could  the  historian 
find  no  heavier  sin  to  lay  to  his  charge  than  his  treatment  of  Isabella.  From 
first  to  last  he  seems  to  have  regarded  her  with  the  indulgence  of  an  affectionate 
husband.  Whether  she  ever  obtained  such  an  ascendency  over  his  close 
and  cautious  nature  as  to  be  allowed  to  share  in  his  confidence  and  his  coun- 
sels, may  well  be  doubted.  Her  temper  would  seem  to  have  been  too  gentle, 
too  devoid  of  worldly  ambition,  to  prompt  her  to  meddle  with  affairs  for  which 
she  was  fitted  neither  by  nature  nor  education.  Yet  Brantome  assures  us 
that  she  exercised  a  most  salutary  influence  over  her  lord  in  his  relations  with 
France,  and  that  the  value  of  this  influence  was  appreciated  in  later  times, 
when  the  growing  misunderstandings  between  the  two  courts  were  left  to 
rankle,  without  any  friendly  hand  to  heal  them.*9  "Her  death,"  he  continues, 
"  was  as  bitter  to  her  own  nation  as  it  was  to  the  Spaniards ;  and  if  the  latter 
called  her  '  the  Queen  of  Peace  and  Goodness,'  the  former  with  no  less  reason 
styled  her  '  the  Olive-branch.' " 40  "  But  she  has  passed  away,"  he  exclaims, 
"  in  the  sweet  and  pleasant  April  of  her  age, — when  her  beauty  was  such  that 
it  seemed  as  if  it  might  almost  defy  the  assaults  of  time." 4I 

The  queen  occupies  an  important  place  in  that  rich  gallery  of  portraits  in 
which  Brantome  has  endeavoured  to  perpetuate  the  features  of  his  contempo- 
raries. In  no  one  of  them  has  he  traced  the  lineaments  with  a  more  tender 

"  The  openness  with  which  Carlos  avowed  pleura,  comme  nne  femme  qu'il  almoit  tres- 

bls  sentiments  for  Isabella  may  be  thought  tendrement."   Histoire  univereelle,  torn.  v.  p. 

some  proof  of  their  innocence.    Catherine  do  437. 

Medicis,  ID  a  letter  to  Fourquevaulx,  dated  "  Brantome,  (Envres,  torn.  v.  p.  137. — Yet 

February  23rd,    1568,  says,  alluding  to  the  Isabella's  mother,  Catherine deMedids,  found 

prince's  arrest,   "  1   am  concerned  that  the  fault  with  her  daughter,  in  the  interview  at 

event  very  much  distresses  my  daughter,  as  Bayonne,  for  having    become   altogether   a 

well  with  regard  to  her  bupband  as  in  respect  Spaniard,   saying  to  her  tauntingly,    "J/i/y 

of  the  prince,  who  has  always  let  her  know  htpanola  vtnit."  To  which  the  queen  meekly 

the  good  will   he  bears  to  her."     lUumer,  replied,  "It  is  possible  that  it  may  be  so  ;  but 

Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  vol.  i.  you  will  still  find  me  the  same  daughter  to 

p.  141.  you  as  when  you  sent  me  to  Spain."    The 

"  The  French  historian  He  Thou,  by  no  anecdote  is  told  by  Alva  in  a  letter  to  the 
means  disposed  to  pass  too  favourable  a  king.  Carta  del  Duque  de  Alva  al  Key,  MS. 
judgment  on  the  action*  of  Philip,  and  who  '"  "  Aussl  l'appeli<>it-on  la  Keyntt  de  la 
in  the  present  case  would  certainly  not  be  pat  y  de  la  b>.n<lu<t.  c'est-a-dire  la  Heyne  de 
likely  to  show  him  any  particular  grace,  la  paix  et  de  la  bonte ;  et  nos  Francois  Tap- 
rejects  without  hesitation  the  suspicion  of  foul  pellarent  1'olive  de  paix."  Branlome,  CEuvres, 
play  on  the  part  of  the  king:  "Quelque*unB  torn.  v.  p.  129. 

Roiipcxmnercnt  Philippe  de   1'avolr  fait  em-  "  "  Elleest  morte  au  plus  beau  ct  plalsant 

poUooner,  parce  qu'il  lul  avoit  fait  un  crime  avril  de  son    aage.  .  .  .  Car  rile   ertoit   de 

de   la  trop  grande  famlliarite  qu'elle  av«it  nature!  et  de  tuinct  pour  durer  longteni|>s 

avec  Dom  Carlos.     II  est  nlanmolns  facile  de  belle,  et  au>si  que  la  vleillesse  nc  I  Yu-t  OHP 

se  convaincre  da  contraire,  par  la  grande  et  attaquer,  earsa  beaute  fut  este  plus  forte." 

sincere  douleur  que  sa  inort  causa,  tant  a  la  Ibid.,  p.  137. 
Cour  que  dana  toute  1'Espagne;  le  Hot  la 


490  DEATH  OF  ISABELLA. 

and  delicate  hand.  Even  the  breath  of  scandal  has  had  no  power  to  dim  the 
purity  of  their  expression.  Of  all  that  illustrious  company  which  the 
artist  has  brought  in  review  before  the  eyes  of  posterity,  there  is  no  one 
to  whom  he  has  so  truly  rendered  the  homage  of  the  heart  as  to  Elizabeth  of 
France. 

But  from  these  scenes  of  domestic  sorrow  it  is  time  that  we  should  turn  to 
others  of  a  more  stirring  and  adventurous  character. 


BOOK  V. 
CHAPTER  L 

THE  MOOES  OF  SPAIN. 

Conquest  of  Spain  by  the  Arabs — Slow  Recovery  by  tlie  Spaniards — Efforts  to  convert  the 
Moslems— Their  Homes  in  the  Alpujarras— Their  Treatment  by  the  Government— The 
Minister  Espinosa — Edict  against  the  Moriscoes — Their  ineffectual  Remonstrance. 

1566,  1567. 

IT  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  century,  in  the  year  711,  that  the  Arabs, 
filled  with  the  spirit  of  conquest  which  had  been  breathed  into  them  by  their 
warlike  apostle,  after  traversing  the  southern  shores  of  the  Mediterranean, 
reached  the  borders  of  those  straits  that  separate  Africa  from  Europe.  Here 
they  paused  for  a  moment,  before  carrying  their  banners  into  a  strange  and 
unknown  quarter  of  the  globe.  It  was  but  for  a  moment,  however,  when,  with 
accumulated  strength,  they  descended  on  the  sunny  fields  of  Andalusia,  met 
the  whole  Gothic  array  on  the  banks  of  the  Guadalete,  and,  after  that  fatal 
battle  in  which  King  Roderick  fell  with  the  flower  of  his  nobility,  spread 
themselves,  like  an  army  of  locusts,  over  every  part  of  the  Peninsula.  Three 
years  sufficed  for  the  conquest  of  the  country, — except  that  small  corner  in  the 
north,  where  a  remnant  of  the  Goths  contrived  to  maintain  a  savage  indepen- 
dence, and  where  the  rudeness  of  the  soil  held  out  to  the  Saracens  no  tempta- 
tion to  follow  them. 

It  was  much  the  same  story  that  was  repeated,  more  than  three  centuries 
later,  by  the  Norman  conquerors  in  England.  The  battle  of  Hastings  was  to 
that  kingdom  what  the  battle  of  the  Guadalete  was  to  Spain ;  though  the 
Norman  oarons,  as  they  rode  over  the  prostrate  land,  dictated  terms  to  the 
vanquished  of  a  sterner  character  than  those  granted  by  the  Saracens. 

But  whatever  resemblance  there  may  be  in  the  general  outlines  of  the  two 
conquests,  there  is  none  in  the  results  that  followed.  In  England  the  Norman 
and  the  Saxon,  sprung  from  a  common  stock,  could  not  permanently  be  kept 
asunder  by  the  barrier  which  at  first  was  naturally  interposed  between  the 
conqueror  and  the  conquered ;  and  in  less,  probably,  than  three  centuries 
after  the  invasion,  the  two  nations  had  imperceptibly  melted  into  one,  so  that 
the  Englishman  of  that  day  might  trace  the  current  that  flowed  through  his 
veins  to  both  a  Norman  and  a  Saxon  origin. 

It  was  far  otherwise  in  Spain,  where  difference  of  race,  of  religion,  of 
national  tradition,  of  moral  and  physical  organization,  placed  a  gulf  between 
the  victors  and  the  vanquished  too  wide  to  he  overleaped.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  very  many  of  the  natives,  accepting  the  liberal  terms  offered  by  the 
Saracens,  preferred  remaining  in  the  genial  clime  of  the  south  to  sharing  tho 


492  THE  MOORS  OP  SPAIN. 

rude  independence  of  their  brethren  in  Asturias,  and  that,  in  the  course  of 
time,  intermarriages,  to  some  extent,  took  place  between  them  and  their 
Moslem  conquerors  j  to  what  extent  cannot  now  be  known.  The  intercourse 
was  certainly  far  greater  than  that  between  our  New- England  ancestors  and 
the  Indian  race  which  they  found  in  possession  of  the  soil. — that  ill-fated  race, 
•which  seems  to  have  shrunk  from  the  touch  of  civilfeation,  and  to  have 
passed  away  before  it  like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  before  the  breath  of  winter. 
The  union  was  probably  not  so  intimate  as  that  which  existed  between  the 
old  Spaniards  and  the  senii-civilized  tribes  that  occupied  the  plateau  of  Mexico, 
whose  descendants  at  this  day  are  to  be  there  seen  filling  the  highest  places, 
both  social  and  political,  and  whose  especial  boast  it  is  to  nave  sprung  from  the 
countrymen  of  Montezuma. 

The  very  anxiety  shown  by  the  modern  Spaniard  to  prove  that  only  the 
sangre  azul — "  blue  blood  " — flows  through  his  veins,  uncontaminated  by  any 
Moorish  or  Jewish  taint,  may  be  thought  to  afford  some  evidence  of  the  inti- 
macy which  once  existed  between  his  forefathers  and  the  tribes  01  Eastern 
origin.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  no  length  of  time  ever  served, 
in  the  eye  of  the  Spaniard,  to  give  the  Moslem  invader  a  title  to  the  soil ;  and 
after  the  lapse  of  nearly  eight  centuries— as  long  a  period  as  that  which  has 
passed  since  the  Norman  conquest — the  Arabs  were  still  looked  upon  as 
intruders  whom  it  was  the  sacred  duty  of  the  Spaniards  to  exterminate  or  to 
expel  from  the  land. 

This,  then,  was  their  mission.  And  it  is  interesting  to  see  how  faithfully 
they  fulfilled  it ;  and  during  the  long  period  of  the  Middle  Ages,  when  other 
nations  were  occupied  with  base  feudal  quarrels  or  border  warfare,  it  is  curious 
to  observe  the  Spaniard  intent  on  the  one  great  object  of  reclaiming  his 
country  from  the  possession  of  the  infidel.  It  was  a  work  of  time  ;  and  his 
progress,  at  first  almost  imperceptible,  was  to  be  measured  by  centuries.  By 
the  end  of  the  ninth  century  it  had  reached  as  far  as  the  Ebro  and  the  Douro. 
By  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  the  victorious  banner  of  the  Cid  had  penetrated 
to  the  Tagus.  The  fortunes  of  Christian  Spain  trembled  in  the  balance  on  the 
great  day  of  Navas  de  Tolosa,  which  gave  a  permanent  ascendency  to  the 
Castilian  arms ;  and  by  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century  the  campaigns  of 
James  the  First  of  Aragon,  and  of  St.  Ferdinand  of  Castile,  stripping  the 
Moslems  of  the  other  southern  provinces,  had  reduced  them  to  the  petty 
kingdom  of  Granada.  Yet  on  this  narrow  spot  they  still  continued  to  main- 
tain a  national  existence,  and  to  bid  defiance  for  more  than  two  centuries 
longer  to  all  the  efforts  of  the  Christians.  The  final  triumph  of  the  latter  was 
reserved  for  the  glorious  reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  It  was  on  the 
second  of  January,  1492,  that,  after  a  war  which  rivalled  that  of  Troy  in  its 
duration  and  surpassed  it  in  the  romantic  character  of  its  incidents,  the 
august  pair  made  their  solemn  entry  into  Granada ;  while  the  large  silver 
cross  which  had  served  as  their  banner  through  the  war,  sparkling  in  the 
sunbeams  on  the  red  towers  of  the  Alhambra,  announced  to  the  Christian 
world  that  the  last  rood  of  'territory  in  the  Peninsula  had  passed  away  for  ever 
from  the  Moslem. 

The  peculiar  nature  of  the  war  in  which  the  Spaniard  for  eight  centuries 
had  thus  been  engaged  exercised  an  important  influence  on  the  national 
character.  Generation  after  generation  had  passed  their  lives  in  one  long, 
uninterrupted  crusade.  It  had  something  of  the  same  effect  on  the  character 
of  the  nation  that  the  wars  for  the  recovery  of  Palestine  had  on  the  Crusaders 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  Every  man  learned  to  regard  himself  as  in  an  especial 
manner  the  soldier  of  Heaven, — for  ever  fighting  the  great  battle  of  the  Faith. 


RECOVERY  BY  THE  SPANIARDS.  493 

With  a  mind  exalted  by  this  sublime  conviction,  what  wonder  that  he  should 
have  been  ever  ready  to  discern  the  immediate  interposition  of  Heaven  in  his 
behalf .'— that  he  should  have  seen  again  and  again  the  patron  saint  of  his 
country,  charging  on  his  milk-white  steed  at  the  head  of  his  celestial  chivalry, 
and  restoring  the  wavering  fortunes  of  the  fight '(  In  this  exalted  state  of 
feeling,  institutions  that  assumed  elsewhere  only  a  political  or  military  aspect 
wore  here  the  garb  of  religion.  Thus  the  orders  of  chivalry,  of  which  there 
were  several  in  the  Peninsula,  were  founded  on  the  same  principles  as  those 
of  Palestine,  where  the  members  were  pledged  to  perpetual  war  against  the 
infidel. 

As  a  consequence  of  these  ware  with  the  Moslems,  the  patriotic  principle 
became  identified  with  the  religious.  In  the  enemies  of  his  country  the 
Spaniard  beheld  also  the  enemies  of  God ;  and  feelings  of  national  hostility 
were  still  further  embittered  by  those  of  religious  hatred.  In  the  palmy  days 
of  the  Arabian  empire,  these  feelings,  it  is  true,  were  tempered  by  those  of 
respect  for  an  enemy  who  in  the  various  forms  of  civilization  surpassed  not 
merely  the  Spaniards,  but  every  nation  in  Christendom.  Nor  was  this  respect 
wholly  abated  under  the  princes  who  afterwards  ruled  with  imperial  sway 
over  Granada,  and  who  displayed  in  their  little  courts  such  a  union  of  the 
courtesies  of  Christian  chivalry  with  the  magnificence  of  the  East  as  shed  a 
ray  of  glory  on  the  declining  days  of  the  Moslem  empire  in  the  Peninsula. 

But  as  the  Arabs,  shorn  of  their  ancient  opulence  and  power,  descended  in 
the  scale,  the  Spaniards  became  more  arrogant.  The  feelings  of  aversion 
with  which  they  had  hitherto  regarded  their  enemies  were  now  mingled  witli 
those  of  contempt  The  latent  fire  of  intolerance  was  fanned  into  a  blaze  by 
the  breath  of  the  fanatical  clergy,  who  naturally  possessed  unbounded  influence 
in  a  country  where  religious  considerations  entered  so  largely  into  the  motives 
of  action  as  they  did  in  Spain.  To  crown  the  whole,  the  date  of  the  fall  of 
Granada  coincided  with  that  of  the  establishment  of  the  Inquisition, — as  if 
the  hideous  monster  had  waited  the  time  when  an  inexhaustible  supply  of 
victims  might  be  afforded  for  its  insatiable  maw. 

By  the  terms  of  the  treaty  of  capitulation,  the  people  of  Granada  were 
allowed  to  remain  in  possession  of  their  religion  and  to  exercise  its  rites ;  and 
it  was  especially  stipulated  that  no  inducements  or  menaces  should  be  held 
out  to  effect  their  conversion  to  Christianity.1  For  a  few  years  the  conquerors 
respected  these  provisions.  Under  the  good  Talavera,  the  first  archbishop  of 
Granada,  no  attempt  was  made  to  convert  the  Moslems  except  by  the  legiti- 
mate means  of  preaching  to  the  people  and  of  expounding  to  them  the  truths 
of  revelation.  Under  such  a  course  of  instruction  the  work  of  proselytism, 
though  steadily,  went  on  too  slowly  to  satisfy  the  impatience  of  some  of  the 
clergy.  Among  others,  that  extraordinary  man?  Cardinal  Ximenes,  arch- 
bishop of  Toledo,  was  eager  to  try  his  own  hand  in  the  labour  of  conversion. 
Having  received  the  royal  assent,  he  set  about  the  affair  with  characteristic 
ardour,  and  with  as  little  scruple  as  to  the  means  to  be  employed  as  the  most 
zealous  propagandist  could  have  desired.  When  reasoning  and  expostulation 
failed,  he  aid  not  hesitate  to  resort  to  bribes,  and,  if  need  were,  to  force. 
Under  these  combined  influences  the  work  of  proselytism  went  on  apace. 
Thousands  were  added  daily  to  the  Christian  fold  ;  and  the  more  orthodox 
Mussulmans  trembled  at  the  prospect  of  a  general  defection  of  their  country- 

1  "Qne  nlngun  Moro  n!  Mora  wrfin  apre-  ChriMlana,  tnmpoco  w>r4  recrbida.  harta  wr 

miadc*  d  xer  Clirlxtianon  contra  «u  voluntnd  ;  InterroRuda."   .W  the  original  treaty,  a«  Riven 

y'que  si  alguna  doncella,  6  canada,  6  vludn,  in  nrtrnta  by  M.irtm.1,  Uetielion  <le  los  Moris- 

por  rnzon  de  algiin<xi  amorrs  *e  qulsicre  toruar  con  (Madrid,  1797),  tom.  I.  pp.  K3-98. 


494  THE  MOORS  OF  SPAIN. 

men.  Exasperated  by  the  unscrupulous  measures  of  the  prelate,  and  the 
gross  violation  they  involved  of  the  treaty,  they  broke  out  into  an  insurrec- 
tion, which  soon  extended  along  the  mountain-ranges  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Granada. 

Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  alarmed  at  the  consequences,  were  filled  with 
indignation  at  the  high-handed  conduct  of  Ximenes.  But  he  replied  that  the 
state  of  things  was  precisely  that  which  was  most  to  be  desired.  By  placing 
themselves  in  an  attitude  of  rebellion,  the  Moors  had  renounced  all  the  advan- 
tages secured  by  the  treaty,  and  had,  moreover,  incurred  the  penalties  of 
death  and  confiscation  of  property  !  It  would  be  an  act  of  grace  in  the  sove- 
reigns to  overlook  their  offence  and  grant  an  amnesty  for  the  past,  on  con- 
dition that  every  Moor  should  at  once  receive  baptism  or  leave  the  country.* 
This  precious  piece  of  casuistry,  hardly  surpassed  oy  anything  in  ecclesiastical 
annals,  found  favour  in  the  eyes  of  the  sovereigns,  who,  after  the  insurrection 
had  been  quelled,  lost  no  time  in  proposing  the  terms  suggested  by  their 
minister  as  the  only  terms  of  reconciliation  open  to  the  Moors.  And  as  but 
few  of  that  unhappy  people  were  prepared  to  renounce  their  country  and 


abjure 
his  enemies.* 

A  similar  course  of  proceeding  was  attended  with  similar  results  in  Valencia 
and  other  dominions  of  the  crown  of  Aragon,  in  the  earlier  part  of  Charles 
the  Fifth's  reign  ;  and  before  that  young  monarch  had  been  ten  years  upon 
the  throne  the  whole  Moorish  population — Moriscoes,  as  they  were  henceforth 
to  be  called — were  brought  within  the  pale  of  Christianity,  or,  to  speak  more 
correctly,  within  that  of  the  Inquisition.4 

Such  conversions,  it  may  well  be  believed,  had  taken  too  little  root  in  the 
heart  to  bear  fruit.  It  was  not  long  before  the  agents  of  the  Holy  Office 
detected,  under  the  parade  of  outward  conformity,  as  rank  a  growth  of 
infidelity  as  had  existed  before  the  conquest.  The  blame  might  in  part, 
indeed,  be  fairly  imputed  to  the  lukewarmness  of  the  Christian  labourers 
employed  in  the  work  of  conversion.  To  render  this  more  effectual,  the 
government  had  caused  churches  to  be  built  in  the  principal  towns  and  villages 
occupied  by  the  Moriscoes,  and  sent  missionaries  among  them  to  wean  them 
from  their  errors  and  unfold  the  great  truths  of  revelation.  But  an  act  of 
divine  grace  could  alone  work  an  instantaneous  change  in  the  convictions  of 
a  nation.  The  difficulties  of  the  preachers  were  increased  by  their  imperfect 
acquaintance  with  the  language  of  their  hearers  ;  and  they  had  still  further 
to  overcome  the  feelings  of  jealousy  and  aversion  with  which  the  Spaniard 
was  naturally  regarded  by  the  Mussulman.  Discouraged  by  these  obstacles, 
the  missionary  became  indifferent  to  the  results.  Instead  of  appealing  to  the 
understanding  or  touching  the  heart  of  his  hearer,  he  was  willing  to  accept 
his  conformity  to  outward  ceremony  as  the  evidence  of  his  conversion.  Even 
in  his  own  performance  of  the  sacred  rites  the  ecclesiastic  showed  a  careless 
indifference,  that  proved  his  heart  was  little  in  the  work  ;  and  he  scattered 
the  purifying  waters  of  baptism  in  so  heedless  a  way  over  the  multitude  that 

*  "  Y  que  pues  habian  sldo  rebeldes,  y  por  *  The  reader  curious  In  the  matter  will  find 

ello  raerecian  pena  de  muerte  y  perdimento  a  full  account  of  it  in  the  History  of  Ferdinand 

de  bienes,  el  perdon  que  les  concediese  fuese  and  Isabella,  part.  ii.  chapters  6, 7. 

condicional,  con  que  se  tornasen  Clmstianos,  *  Advertimientos  de  Don  Geronimo  Corella 

6  dexasen  la  tierra.     Marmol,  Rebelion  de  los  sobre  la  Convention  de  los  Moriscos  del  Reyno 

Moriscos,  torn.  i.  p.  122.  de  Valencia,  MS. 


EFFORTS  TO  CONVERT  THEM.          495 

it  was  not  uncommon  for  a  Morisco  to  assert  that  none  of  the  consecrated 
drops  had  fallen  upon  him.4 

The  representations  of  the  clergy  at  length  drew  the  attention  of  the 
government.  It  was  decided  that  the  best  mode  .of  effecting  the  conversion 
of  the  Moslems  was  by  breaking  up  those  associations  which  connected  them 
with  the  past,—  by  compelling  them,  in  short,  to  renounce  their  ancient 
usages,  their  national  dress,  and  even  their  language.  An  extraordinary  edict 
to  that  effect,  designed  for  Granada,  was  accordingly  published  by  Charles  in 
the  summer  of  1526  ;  and  all  who  did  not  conform  to  it  were  to  be  arraigned 
before  the  Inquisition.  The  law  was  at  once  met,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  by  remonstrances  from  the  men  of  most  consideration  among  the 
Moriscoes,  who,  to  give  efficacy  to  their  petition,  promised  the  round  sum  of 
eighty  thousand  gold  ducats  to  the  emperor  in  case  their  prayers  should  be 
granted.  Charles,  who  in  his  early  days  did  not  always  allow  considerations 
of  religion  to  supersede  those  of  a  worldly  policy,  lent  a  favourable  ear  to  the 
petitioners  ;  and  the  monstrous  edict,  notwithstanding  some  efforts  to  the 
contrary,  was  never  suffered  to  go  into  operation  during  his  reign.6 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  on  the  accession  of  Philip  the  Second.  Gra- 
nada, Malaga,  and  the  other  principal  cities  of  the  south  were  filled  with 
a  mingled  population  of  Spaniards  and  Moriscoes,  the  latter  of  whom,  — 
including  many  persons  of  wealth  and  consideration,  —  under  the  influence  of 
a  more  intimate  contact  with  the  Christians,  gave  evidence,  from  time  to 
time,  of  conversion  to  the  faith  of  their  conquerors.  But  by  far  the  larger 
part  of  the  Moorish  population  was  scattered  over  the  mountain-range  of  the 
Alpujarras,  south-east  of  Granada,  and  among  the  bold  sierras  that  stretch 
along  the  southern  shores  of  Spain.  Here,  amidst  those  frosty  peaks,  rising 
to  the  height  of  near  twelve  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and 
readily  descried,  from  their  great  elevation,  by  the  distant  voyager  on  the 
Mediterranean,  was  many  a  green,  sequestered  valley,  on  which  the  Moorish 
peasant  had  exhausted  that  elaborate  culture  which  in  the  palmy  days  of  his 
nation  was  unrivalled  in  any  part  of  Europe.7  His  patient  toil  had  constructed 
terraces  from  the  rocky  soil,  and,  planting  them  with  vines,  had  clothed  the 
bald  sides  of  the  sierra  with  a  delicious  verdure.  With  the  like  industry  he 
had  contrived  a  net-work  of  canals  along  the  valleys  and  lower  levels,  which, 
fed  by  the  streams  from  the  mountains,  nourished  the  land  with  perpetual 
moisture.  The  different  elevations  afforded  so  many  different  latitudes  for 
agricultural  production  ;  and  the  fig,  the  pomegranate,  and  the  orange  grew 

•  "  Sin  tratar  de  instruir  4  cada  uno  en  par-        Carle*  suspendiesse  la  execution  dote  acn- 
ticnlar  ni  tie  examinar  los  nl  saber  su  voluntad        erdo." 

los  baptlzarun  a  manadas  y  de   nindo  que  '  Caldpron,  In  hU  "  A  mar  despuea  de  la 

algunus  de  ellos,   Begun   pg  fama,  pusieron  Mtu-rte,"  has  shed  the  splendours  of  his  muse 

pleitu  que  no  lea  avia  tocado  el  agua  que  en  over  the  green  and  sunny  spots  tli.it  glitter 

cornun   lea   hechavan."      AdvertiniienUw  de  like  emeralds  amidst  the  craggy  wilds  of  the 

Corel  la,  MS.  Alpujurras  ; 

•  Marrnol.  toMta*  los  Moriscos  torn  I.  ..  p               t 
pp.  1£*-1  55.—  Bleda,  Coronica  de  los  More*  de  .,    M     ,. 
Bpta  (Valencia,  1618).  p.   656.-Advertl-  *  ™ 
mient.«  de  Corella,  MS.-Kerreras,  Hint,  gene- 

rale  d'Espagtie,  torn.  ix.  pp.  85,  6*.-Vand.-r-  ™."  Ua  «trf 


hammen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  SS.-Tbe  DeVillara  v  d 

last  writer  nays  that,  besides  the  largess  to  the  i£.  v"       ,  Z 

emperor  the  Monacoe,  were  cam.y  enough  to  xWhlSSS  J 

•ecure  the  good  will  of  his  ministers  by  a  lUrt-ct-n  rbtcos  naciloa 

liberai  supply  of  doubloon,  to  them  also:  gSS^TSS,  toJ 

"Slrvleron   al    Kinperador   con   ochenta   mil  o        ixlaron  ,t,-  U  ciin 

d.u-ad.,*     Aprovech6les  e«to,  y  bucna  suma  Aun^  4  U  fall,  i  o 

de  doblones  que  dieron  a  los  prl  vados  pan  que  Aunque 


496  THE  MOORS  OF  SPAIN. 

almost  side  by  side  with  the  hemp  of  the  north  and  the  grain  of  more  tempe- 
rate climates.  The  lower  slopes  of  the  sierra  afforded  extensive  pastures  for 
flocks  of  merino  sheep ;  *  and  the  mulberry-tree  was  raised  in  great  abundance 
for  the  manufacture  of  silk,  which  formed  an  important  article  of  export  from 
the  kingdom  of  Granada. 

Thus  gathered  in  their  little  hamlets  among  the  mountains,  the  people  of 
the  Alpujarras  maintained  the  same  sort  of  rugged  independence  which 
belonged  to  the  ancient  Goth  when  he  had  taken  shelter  from  the  Saracen 
invader  in  the  fastnesses  of  Asturias.  Here  the  Moriscoes,  formed  into  com- 
munities which  preserved  their  national  associations,  still  cherished  the  tradi- 
tions of  their  fathers,  and  perpetuated  those  usages  and  domestic  institutions 
that  kept  alive  the  memory  of  ancient  days.  It  was  from  the  Alpujarras  that, 
in  former  times,  the  kings  of  Granada  had  drawn  the  brave  soldiery  who 
enabled  them  for  so  many  years  to  bid  defiance  to  their  enemies.  The  trade 
of  war  was  now  at  an  end.  But  the  hardy  life  of  the  mountaineer  gave  robust- 
ness to  his  frame,  and  saved  him  from  the  effeminacy  and  sloth  which  corrupted 
the  inhabitants  of  the  capital.  Secluded  among  his  native  hills,  he  cherished 
those  sentiments  of  independence  which  ill  suited  a  conquered  race ;  and,  in 
default  of  a  country  which  he  could  call  his  own,  he  had  that  strong  attach- 
ment to  the  soil  which  is  akin  to  patriotism,  and  which  is  most  powerful 
among  the  inhabitants  of  a  mountain-region. 

The  products  of  the  husbandman  furnished  the  staples  of  a  gainful  commerce 
with  the  nations  on  the  Mediterranean,  and  especially  with  the  kindred  people 
on  the  Barbary  shores.  The  treaty  of  Granada  secured  certain  commercial 
advantages  to  the  Moors  beyond  what  were  enjoyed  by  the  Spaniards.9  This, 
it  may  well  be  believed,  was  looked  upon  with  no  friendly  eye  by  the  latter, 
who  had  some  ground,  moreover,  for  distrusting  the  policy  of  an  intercourse 
between  the  Moslems  of  Spain  and  those  of  Africa,  bound  together  as  they 
were  by  so  many  ties, — above  all,  by  a  common  hatred  of  the  Christians. 
With  the  feelings  of  political  distrust  were  mingled  those  of  cupidity  and  envy, 
as  the  Spaniard  saw  the  fairest  provinces  of  the  south  still  in  the  hands  of  the 
accursed  race  of  Ishmael,  while  he  was  condemned  to  earn  a  scanty  subsistence 
from  the  comparatively  ungenial  soil  of  the  north. 

In  this  state  of  things,  with  the  two  races  not  merely  dissimilar,  but  essen- 
tially hostile  to  one  another,  it  will  readily  be  understood  how  difficult  it  must 
have  been  to  devise  any  system  of  legislation  by  which  they  could  be  brought 
to  act  in  harmony  as  members  of  the  same  political  body.  That  the  endea- 
vours of  the  Spanish  government  were  not  crowned  with  success  would  hardly 
surprise  us,  even  had  its  measures  been  more  uniformly  wise  and  considerate. 

The  government  caused  the  Alpujarras  to  be  divided  into  districts  and  placed 
under  the  control  of  magistrates,  who,  with  their  families,  resided  in  the  places 
assigned  as  the  seats  of  their  jurisdiction.  There  seem  to  have  been  few  other 
Christians  who  dwelt  among  the  Moorish  settlements  in  the  sierra,  except, 
indeed,  the  priests  who  had  charge  of  the  spiritual  concerns  of  the  natives. 

•  Sefior  de  Gayangos,  correcting  a  blunder  very  politic  provision  :  "Que  si  los  Moros  que 
of  Casiri  on  the  subject,  tells   us  that   the  entraren  debaxo  de  estas  capitulaciones  y  con- 
Arabic  name  of  the  Alpujarras  was  Al-bushe-  ciertos,  quisieren  ir  con  sus  mercaderias  :i 
rdt,  signifying    "mountains    abounding    in  tratar  y  contratar  en   Berberia,  se  les  da^a 
pastures."      See  that    treasure    of   Oriental  licencia  para  poderlo  hacer  libremente,  y  lo 
learning,  the  History  of  the  Mohammedan  mesmo  en  todos  los  lugares  de  Castilla  y  de  la 
Dynasties  in  Spain  (London,  1843),  vol.  ii.  p.  Andalucia,  sin  pagar  portazcos,  ni  los  otros 
615.  derechos    que    los    Chriatianos  acostumbran 

*  Such  was  the  exemption    from  certain  pai?ar."    Marmol,  Rebelion  de  los  Moriscos, 
duties  paid  by  the  Christians  in  their  trade  torn.  i.  p.  93. 

with  the  Barbary  coast,— a  singular  and  not 


TREATMENT  BY  THE  GOVERNMENT.        497 

As  the  conversion  of  these  latter  was  the  leading  object  of  the  government, 
they  caused  churches  to  be  erected  in  all  the  towns  and  hamlets,  and  the 
curates  were  instructed  to  use  every  effort  to  enlighten  the  minds  of  their 
flocks,  and  to  see  that  they  were  punctual  in  attendance  on  the  rites  and  cere- 
monies of  the  Church.  But  it  was  soon  too  evident  that  attention  to  forms 
and  ceremonies  was  the  only  approach  made  to  the  conversion  of  the  heathen, 
and  that  below  this  icy  crust  of  conformity  the  waters  of  infidelity  lay  as  dark 
and  deep  as  ever.  The  result,  no  doubt,  was  to  be  partly  charged  on  the  clergy 
themselves,  many  of  whom  grew  languid  in  the  execution  of  a  task  which 
seemed  to  them  to  be  hopeless.10  And  what  task,  in  truth,  could  be  more 
hopeless  than  that  of  persuading  a  whole  nation  at  once  to  renounce  their 
long-established  convictions^  to  abjure  the  faith  of  their  fathers,  associated  in 
their  minds  with  many  a  glorious  recollection,  and  to  embrace  the  faith  of  the 
very  men  whom  they  regarded  with  unmeasured  hatred  V  It  would  be  an  act 
of  humiliation  not  to  be  expected  even  in  a  conquered  race. 

In  accomplishing  a  work  so  much  to  be  desired,  the  Spaniards,  if  they  cannot 
be  acquitted  of  the  charge  of  persecution,  must  be  allowed  not  to  have  urged 
persecution  to  anything  like  the  extent  which  they  had  done  in  the  case  of 
the  Protestant  reformers.  Whether  from  policy  or  from  some  natural  regard 
to  the  helplessness  of  these  benighted  heathen,  the  bloodhounds  of  the  Inqui- 
sition were  not  as  yet  allowed  to  run  down  their  game  at  will ;  and,  if  they  did 
terrify  the  natives  by  displaying  their  formidable  fangs,  the  time  had  not  yet 
come  when  they  were  to  slip  the  leash  and  spring  upon  their  miserable  victims. 
It  is  true  there  were  some  exceptions  to  this  more  discreet  policy.  The  Holy 
Office  had  its  agents  abroad,  who  kept  watch  upon  the  Moriscoes ;  and  occa- 
sionally the  more  flagrant  offenders  were  delivered  up  to  its  tender  mercies.11 
But  a  more  frequent  source  of  annoyance  arose  from  the  teasing  ordinances 
from  time  to  time  issued  by  the  government,  which  could  have  answered  no 
other  purpose  than  to  irritate  the  temper  and  sharpen  the  animosity  of  the 
Moriscoes.  If  the  government  had  failed  in  the  important  work  of  conversion, 
it  was  the  more  incumbent  on  it,  by  every  show  of  confidence  and  kindness,  to 
conciliate  the  good  will  of  the  conquered  people,  and  enable  them  to  live  in 
harmony  with  their  conquerors,  as  members  of  the  same  community.  Such 
was  not  the  policy  of  Philip,  any  more  than  it  had  been  that  of  his  pre- 
decessors. 

During  the  earlier  years  of  his  reign  the  king's  attention  was  too  closely 
occupied  with  foreign  affairs  to  leave  him  much  leisure  for  those  of  the  Moris- 
coes. It  was  certain,  however,  that  they  would  not  long  escape  the  notice  of  a 
prince  who  regardea  uniformity  of  faith  as  the  corner-stone  of  his  government. 
The  first  important  act  of  legislation  bearing  on  these  people  was  in  1560, 
when  the  Cortes  of  Castile  presented  a  remonstrance  to  the  throne  against  the 
use  of  negro  slaves  by  the  Moriscoes,  who  were  sure  to  instruct  them  in  their 

'•  Such  la  the  opinion  expressed  by  the  medios  que  Chricto  nuestro  Sefior  tiene  orde- 

author  of  the  "  Advcrtimientoi,"  whose  re-  nados  para  la  cura  de  este  cial."    M.S. 

marks— having  particular  reference  to  Valen-  "  "  Konan«loles  con  Injuriaa  y  penas  pecu- 

cta — are  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  candour,  and  of  niarlas  y    justidaiuio  i  algunoo   de  elloa." 

charity  toward*  the  Moslem*,  rarely  found  in  AdvrrtimientoH  de    Core  I  la,   MS.— Mendoza, 

a,  Spaniard  of  the  Sixteenth  century.      "  De  speaking  of  a  somewhat   later  period,  just 

donde,"  be  says,  "  colfje  claramente  que  el  no  before  the  outbreak,  briefly  alludes  to  the  fact 

sanar  estos  enfermoa  hast*  agora  no  se  puede  that  the   Inquisition  was  then  beginning  to 

imputar  ft  ser  incurable  la  enfrrmedad,  stno  fi  worry  the  Moriscoes  more  tlian  usual :  "  1'or- 

•verse  errado  la  cura,  y  tambien  MS  vce  que  que  la  Inquisicion  les  comenzd  4  apretar  mas 

haMa  oy  no  estan   bftsUmentc  dtwcargadoa  de  lo  ordinario."    Outrra  de  Urunadu  (Valen- 

drlante  de  Dion  nuefttroSeftoraquclloaaquien  cia,  1776),  p.  20. 
tocft  este  iiegoclo,  puee  no  ban   puesto   los 

2    K 


498  THE  MOORS  OF  SPAIN. 

Mahometan  tenets  and  thus  to  multiply  the  number  of  infidels  in  the  land.12 
A  royal  pragmatic  was  accordingly  passed,  interdicting  the  use  of  African 
slaves  by  the  Moslems  of  Granada.  The  prohibition  caused  the  greatest 
annoyance ;  for  the  wealthier  classes  were  in  the  habit  of  employing  these 
slaves  for  domestic  purposes,  while  in  the  country  they  were  extensively  used 
for  agricultural  labour. 

In  1563  another  ordinance  was  published,  reviving  a  law  which  had  fallen 
into  disuse,  and  which  prohibited  the  Moriscoes  from  having  any  arms  in  their 
possession  but  such  as  were  duly  licensed  by  the  captain-general  and  were 
stamped  with  his  escutcheon.13  The  office  of  captain -general  of  Granada  was 
filled  at  this  time  by  Don  Inigo  Lopez  de  Mendpza,  count  of  Tendilla,  who 
soon  after,  on  his  fathers  death,  succeeded  to  the  title  of  marquis  of  Mondejar. 
The  important  post  which  he  held  had  been  hereditary  in  his  family  ever  since 
the  conquest  of  Granada.  The  present  nobleman  was  a  worthy  scion  of  the 
illustrious  house  from  which  he  sprang.14  His  manners  were  blunt,  and  not 
such  as  win  popularity ;  but  he  was  a  man  of  integrity,  with  a  nice  sense  of 
honour  and  a  humane  heart, — the  last  of  not  too  common  occurrence  in  the 
iron  days  of  chivalry.  Though  bred  a  soldier,  he  was  inclined  to  peace. 
His  life  had  been  passed  much  among  the  Moriscoes,  so  that  he  perfectly 
understood  their  humours  ;  and,  as  he  was  a  person  of  prudence  and  modera- 
tion, it  is  not  improbable,  had  affairs  been  left  to  his  discretion,  that  the 
country  would  have  escaped  many  of  those  troubles  which  afterwards  befell  it. 

It  was  singular,  considering  the  character  of  Mendoza,  that  he  should  have 
recommended  so  ill-advised  a  measure  as  that  relating  to  the  arms  of  the 
Moriscoes.  The  ordinance  excited  a  general  indignation  in  Granada.  The 
people  were  offended  by  the  distrust  which  such  a  law  implied  of  their  loyalty. 
They  felt  it  an  indignity  to  be  obliged  to  sue  for  permission  to  do  what  they 
considered  it  was  theirs  of  right  to  do.  Those  of  higher  condition  disdained 
to  wear  weapons  displaying  the  heraldic  bearings  of  the  Mendozas  instead  of 
their  own.  But  the  greater  number,  without  regard  to  the  edict,  provided 
themselves  secretly  with  arms,  which,  as  it  reached  the  ears  of  the  authorities, 
led  to  frequent  prosecutions.  Thus  a  fruitful  source  of  irritation  was  opened, 
and  many,  to  escape  punishment,  fled  to  the  mountains,  and  there  too  often 
joined  the  brigands  who  haunted  the  passes  of  the  Alpujarras  and  bade 
defiance  to  the  feeble  police  of  the  Spaniards.1* 

These  impolitic  edicts,  as  they  were  irritating  to  the  Moriscoes,  were  but 
preludes  to  an  ordinance  of  so  astounding  a  character  as  to  throw  the  whole 
country  into  a  state  of  revolution.  The  apostasy  of  the  Moriscoes— or,  to 
speak  more  correctly,  the  constancy  with  which  they  adhered  to  the  faith  of 
their  fathers — gave  great  scandal  to  the  old  Christians— especially  to  the 
clergy,  and  above  all  to  its  head,  Don  Pedro  Guerrero,  archbishop  of  Granada. 
This  prelate  seems  to  have  been  a  man  of  an  uneasy,  meddlesome  spirit,  and 
possessed  of  a  full  share  of  the  bigotry  of  his  time.  While  in  Rome,  shortly 

13  Marmot,  Rebelion  de  los  Moriscos,  torn.  arms,  in  politics,  and  in  letters,  makes  its 

i.  p.  135.  first  appearance  in  Spanish  history  as  far  back 

13  Mannol,  Rebelion  de  los  Moriscos,  torn.  as  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century. — 
ii.  p.  3t8. — Ordenanzas  de  Granada,  ibl.  376,  Mariana,  Historia  de  Espana,  torn.  i.  p.  b76. 
ap.  Circourt,  Hist,    des    Arabes  d'Espagne  "  M.deCircourt,  in  bis  interesting  volumes, 
(Paris,  1846),  torn.  ii.  p.  267. — The  penalty  has  given  a  minute  account — much  too  minute 
for  violating  the  above  ordinance    was  six  for  these  pages— of  the  first  developments  of 
years'  hard  labour  in  the  galleys.    That  lor  the  insurrectionary  spirit  of  the  Moriscoes,  in 
counterfeiting  the  stamp  of  the  Meodoza  arms  which  he  shows  a  very  careful  study  of  the 
was  death.     Vce  metis !  subject.    Hist,  des  Arabes  d'Espagne,  torn. 

14  The  name  of  Mendoza,  which  occupied  ii.  pp.  268,  et  seq. 
for  so  many  generations  a  prominent  place  in 


THE  MINISTER  ESPINOSA.  499 

before  this  period,  he  had  made  siich  a  representation  to  Pope  Pius  the  Fourth 
as  drew  from  that  pontiff  a  remonstrance,  addressed  to  the  Spanish  govern- 
ment, on  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  Moriscoes.  Soon  after,  in  the  year 
1567,  a  memorial  was  presented  to  the  government  by  Guerrero  and  the  clergy 
of  his  diocese,  in  which,  after  insisting  on  the  manifold  backslidings  of  the 
"  new  Christians,"  as  the  Moriscoes  were  termed,  they  loudly  called  for  some 
efficacious  measures  to  arrest  the  eviL  These  people,  they  said,  whatever 
show  of  conformity  they  might  make  to  the  requisitions  of  the  Church,  were 
infidels  at  heart.  When  their  children  were  baptized,  they  were  careful,  on 
returning  home,  to  wash  away  the  traces  of  baptism,  and,  after  circumcising 
them,  to  give  them  Moorish  names.  In  like  manner,  when  their  marriages 
had  been  solemnized  with  Christian  rites,  they  were  sure  to  confirm  them 
afterwards  by  their  own  ceremonies,  accompanied  with  the  national  songs  and 
dances.  They  continued  to  observe  Friday  as  a  holy  day  ;  and,  what  was  of 
graver  moment,  they  were  known  to  kidnap  the  children  of  the  Christians  and 
sell  them  to  their  brethren  on  the  coast  of  Barbary,  where  they  were  circum- 
cised, and  nurtured  in  the  Mahometan  religion.  Tnis  last  accusation,  however 
improbable,  found  credit  with  the  Spaniards,  and  sharpened  the  feelings  of 
jealousy  and  hatred  with  which  they  regarded  the  unhappy  race  of  Ishmael." 

The  memorial  of  the  clergy  received  prompt  attention  from  the  government, 
at  whose  suggestion,  very  possibly,  it  had  been  prepared.  A  commission  was 
at  once  appointed  to  examine  into  the  matter ;  and  their  report  was  laid 
before  a  junta  consisting  of  both  ecclesiastics  and  laymen,  and  embracing 
names  of  the  highest  consideration  for  talent  and  learning  in  the  kingdom. 
Among  its  members  we  find  the  duke  of  Alva,  who  had  not  yet  set  out  on  his 
ominous  mission  to  the  Netherlands.  At  its  head  was  Diego  de  Espinosa,  at 
that  time  the  favourite  minister  of  Philip,  or  at  least  the  one  who  had  the 
largest  share  in  the  direction  of  affairs.  He  was  a  man  after  the  king's  own 
heart,  and,  from  the  humble  station  of  colerjial  mayor  of  the  college  of  Cuenga 
in  Salamanca,  had  been  advanced  by  successive  steps  to  the  high  post  of 
president  of  the  Council  of  Castile  and  of  the  Council  of  the  Indies.  He  was 
now  also  bishop  of  Siguenza,  one  of  the  richest  sees  in  the  kingdom.  ^He  held 
an  important  office  in  the  Inquisition,  and  was  soon  to  succeed  Valdes  in  the 
unenviable  post  of  grand  inquisitor.  To  conclude  the  catalogue  of  his  honours, 
no  long  time  was  to  elapse  before,  at  his  master's  suggestion,  he  was  to  receive 
from  Rome  a  cardinal's  hat.  The  deference  shown  by  Philip  to  his  minister, 
increased  as  it  was  by  this  new  accession  of  spiritual  dignity,  far  exceeded 
what  he  had  ever  shown  to  any  other  of  his  subjects. 

Espinosa  was  at  this  time  in  the  morning,  or  rather  the  meridian,  of  his 
power.  His  qualifications  for  business  would  have  been  extraordinary  even 
in  a  layman.  He  was  patient  of  toil,  cheerfully  doing  the  work  of  others  as 
well  as  his  own.  This  was  so  far  fortunate  that  it  helped  to  give  him  that 
control  in  the  direction  of  affairs  which  was  coveted  by  his  aspiring  nature. 
He  had  a  dignified  and  commanding  presence,  with  but  few  traces  of  that 
humility  which  would  have  been  graceful  in  one  who  had  risen  so  high  by  his 
master's  favour  as  much  as  by  his  own  deserts.  His  haughty  tearing  gave 
offence  to  the  old  nobility  of  Castile,  who  scornfully  looked  from  the  minister's 
present  elevation  to  the  humble  level  from  which  he  had  risen.  It  was 
regarded  with  less  displeasure,  it  is  said,  by  the  king,  who  was  not  unwilling 
to  see  the  pride  of  the  ancient  aristocracy  rebuked  by  one  whom  he  had  hiiu- 

"  Fermia,  Hint.  d'Enpagn*',  torn.  IT.  p.  I.  p.  142 — Vanderhammen,  Don  Juan  de  Aos- 
624.— Mannol,  Rcbelion  de  loe  Muriscos,  torn.  trla,  fol.  65. 


600  THE  MOORS  OF  SPAIN. 

self  raised  from  the  dust.17  Their  mortification,  however,  was  to  be  appeased 
ere  lone  by  the  fall  of  the  favourite, — an  event  as  signal  and  unexpected  by 
the  world,  and  as  tragical  to  the  subject  of  it,  as  the  fall  of  Wolsey. 

The  man  who  was  qualified  for  the  place  of  grand  inquisitor  was  not  likely 
to  feel  much  sympathy  for  the  race  of  unbelievers.  It  was  unfortunate  for  the 
Moriscoes  that  their  destinies  should  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  such  a  minister 
as  Espinosa.  After  due  deliberation,  the  junta  came  to  the  decision  that  the 
only  remedy  for  the  present  evil  was  to  lay  the  axe  to  the  root  of  it, — to  cut 
off  all  those  associations  wluch  connected  the  Moriscoes  with  their  earlier 
history,  and  which  were  so  many  obstacles  in  the  way  of  their  present  con- 
version. It  was  recommended  that  they  should  be  interdicted  from  employing 
the  Arabic  either  in  speaking  or  writing,  for  which  they  were  to  use  only  the 
Castilian.  They  were  not  even  to  be  allowed  to  retain  their  family  names, 
but  were  to  exchange  them  for  Spanish  ones.  All  written  instruments  and 
legal  documents,  of  whatever  kind,  were  declared  to  be  void  and  of  no  effect 
unless  in  the  Castilian.  As  time  must  be  allowed  for  a  whole  people  to  change 
its  language,  three  years  were  assigned  as  the  period  at  the  end  of  which  this 
provision  should  take  effect. 

They  were  to  be  required  to  exchange  their  national  dress  for  that  of  the 
Spaniards ;  and,  as  the  Oriental  costume  was  highly  ornamented,  and  often 
very  expensive,  they  were  to  be  allowed  to  wear  their  present  clothes  one  year 
longer  if  of  silk,  ana  two  years  if  of  cotton,  the  latter  being  the  usual  apparel 
of  the  poorer  classes.  The  women,  moreover,  both  old  and  young,  were  to  be 
required,  from  the  passage  of  the  law,  to  go  abroad  with  their  faces  uncovered, 
— a  scandalous  thing  among  Mahometans. 

Their  weddings  were  to  be  conducted  in  public,  after  the  Christian  forms ; 
and  the  doors  of  their  houses  were  to  be  left  open  during  the  day  of  the 
ceremony,  that  any  one  might  enter  and  see  that  they  did  not  have  recourse 
to  unhallowed  rites.  They  were  further  to  be  interdicted  from  the  national 
songs  and  dances  with  which  they  were  wont  to  celebrate  their  domestic 
festivities.  Finally,  as  rumours — most  absurd  ones— had  got  abroad  that  the 
warm  baths  which  the  natives  were  in  the  habit  of  using  in  their  houses  were 
perverted  to  licentious  indulgences,  they  were  to  be  required  to  destroy  the 
vessels  in  which  they  bathed,  and  to  use  nothing  of  the  kind  thereafter. 

These  several  provisions  were  to  be  enforced  by  penalties  of  the  sternest 
kind.  For  the  first  offence  the  convicted  party  was  to  be  punished  with  im- 
prisonment for  a  month,  with  banishment  from  the  country  for  two  years, 
and  with  a  fine  varying  from  six  hundred  to  ten  thousand  maravedis.  For  a 
second  offence  the  penalties  were  to  be  doubled  ;  and  for  a  third,  the  culprit, 
in  addition  to  former  penalties,  was  to  be  banished  for  life.  The  ordinance 
was  closely  modelled  on  that  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  he 
was  too  politic  to  carry  into  execution.18 

Such  were  the  principal  provisions  of  a  law  which,  for  cruelty  and  absurdity, 
has  scarcely  a  parallel  in  history.  For  what  could  be  more  absurd  than  the 

"  Such  was  the   judgment  of  the  acute  Ven'tiens  snr  Charles-Quint  et  Philippe  II. 

Venetian  who,  as  one  of  the  train   of  the  (Bruxelles,  1855),  p.  175. 

minister  Tiepolo.  obtained  a  near  view  of  "  This  remarkable  ordinance  may  be  found 

what  was  passing  in  the  court  of  Philip  the  in  the  Nueva  Recopilacion  (ed.  1640),  lib.  viii. 

Second:  "  Levato  di  bassissimo  stato  dal  re,  tit.  2,  leyes  13-18. — The  most  severe  penal- 

e  posto  in  tanta  grandezza  in  pocbi  anni,  per  ties  were  those  directed  against  the  beinons 

esser  huomo  da  bene,  libero  et  schietto,  et  offence  of  indulging  in  warm  baths.     For  a 

perche  S.  M.  vuol  tener  bassi  11   grandi  di  second  repetition  of  this,  the  culprit  was  sen- 

Spagna,    conoscendo    1'    altierissimii    natura  tenced  to  six  years'  labour  in  the  galleys  and 

loro."    Gacbard,  Relations  des  Ambassadeurs  the  confiscation  of  half  his  estate ! 


EDICT  AGAINST  THE  MORISCOES.  501 

attempt  by  an  act  of  legislation  to  work  such  a  change  in  the  long-established 
habits  of  a  nation, — to  efface  those  recollections  of  the  past,  to  which  men  ever 
cling  most  closely  under  the  pressure  of  misfortune, — to  blot  out  by  a  single 
stroke  of  the  pen,  as  it  were,  not  only  the  creed  but  the  nationality  of  a 
people, — to  convert  the  Moslem  at  once  both  into  a  Christian  and  into  a 
Castilian  ?  It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  any  greater  outrage  offered  to 
a  people  than  the  provision  compelling  women  to  lay  aside  their  veils, — asso- 
ciated as  these  were  in  every  Eastern  mind  with  the  obligations  of  modesty ; 
or  that  in  regard  to  opening  the  doors  of  the  houses  and  exposing  those  with'in 
to  the  insolent  gaze  of  every  passer ;  or  that  in  relation  to  the  baths,— so 
indispensable  to  cleanliness  ana  comfort,  especially  in  the  warm  climate  of  the 
south. 

But  the  masterpiece  of  absurdity,  undoubtedly,  is  the  stipulation  in  regard 
to  the  Arabic  language ;  as  if  by  any  human  art  a  whole  population,  in  the 
space  of  three  years,  could  be  made  to  substitute  a  foreign  tongue  for  its  own, 
and  that,  too,  under  circumstances  of  peculiar  difficulty,  partly  arising  from 
the  total  want  of  affinity  between  the  Semitic  and  the  European  languages, 
and  partly  from  the  insulated  position  of  the  Moriscoes,  who  in  the  cities  had 
separate  quarters  assigned  to  them,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  Jews,  which 
cut  them  off  from  intimate  intercourse  with  the  Christians.  We  may  well 
doubt,  from  the  character  of  this  provision,  whether  the  government  had  so 
much  at  heart  the  conversion  of  the  Moslems  as  the  desire  to  entangle  them 
in  such  violations  of  the  law  as  should  afford  a  plausible  pretext  for  driving 
them  from  the  country  altogether.  One  is  strengthened  in  this  view  of  the 
subject  by  the  significant  reply  of  Otadin,  professor  of  theology  at  Alcala, 
who,  when  consulted  by  Philip  on  the  expediency  of  the  ordinance,  gave  his 
hearty  approbation  of  it,  by  quoting  the  appalling  Spanish  proverb,  "  The 
fewer  enemies,  the  better."  '•  It  was  reserved  for  the  imbecile  Philip  the 
Third  to  crown  the  disasters  of  his  reign  by  the  expulsion  of  the  Moriscoes. 
Yet  no  one  can  doubt  that  it  was  a  consummation  earnestly  desired  by  the 
great  body  of  the  Spaniards,  who  looked,  as  we  have  seen,  with  longing  eyes 
to  the  fair  territory  which  they  possessed,  and  who  regarded  them  with  the 
feelings  of  distrust  and  aversion  with  which  men  regard  those  on  whom  they 
have  inflicted  injuries  too  great  to  be  forgiven. 

Yet  there  were  some  in  the  junta  with  whom  the  proposed  ordinance  found 
no  favour.  Among  these,  one  who  calls  to  mind  his  conduct  in  the  Nether- 
lauds  may  be  surprised  to  find  the  dvike  of  Alva.  Here,  as  in  that  country, 
his  course  was  doubtless  dictated  less  by  considerations  of  humanity  than  of 
policy.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  reasons,  they  had  little  weight  with 
Espinosa,  who  probably  felt  a  secret  satisfaction  in  thwarting  the  man  whom 
he  regarded  with  all  the  jealousy  of  a  rival.10 

What  was  Philip's  own  opinion  on  the  matter  we  can  but  conjecture  from 
onr  general  knowledge  of  his  character.  He  professed  to  be  glided  by  the 
decision  of  the  "  wise  and  learned  men  "  to  whom  he  had  committed  the  sub- 
ject. That  this  decision  did  no  g^-eat  violence  to  his  own  feelings,  we  may 
infer  from  the  promptness  with  which  he  signed  the  ordinance.  This  he  did 
on  the  seventeenth  of  November,  1566,  when  the  pragmatic  became  a  law. 

'•  "De  loaenemijos  los  mem*."— Clrcourt  ••  Cabrera,  throwing  the  responsibility  of 

rives  a  verit  in  of  the  whole  of  the  professor's  the  subsequent    troubles    on  Espinosa  and 

1-tt-T,  with  his  precious  commentary  on  this  Deza,  sarcastically  remarks  that  "two  cowls 

text.     (.Hist   des  Arabes  d'KspaRne,  torn.  ii.  had  the  ordering  of  an  affair  which  hnd  been 

p.  77*  )    According  to  Ferreras,  I'hilip  highly  better  left  to   men  with   helmets  on   their 

roll-hfd  the  maxim  of  bin  ghostly  counsellor.  heads."     Cabrera,   Fillpe  Segundo,   lib.   vil. 

Hist.  d'E-pagne,  torn.  ix.  p.  526.  cap.  31. 


502  THE  MOORS  OF  SPAIN. 

It  was  resolved,  however,  not  to  give  publicity  to  it  at  once.  It  was  com- 
mitted to  the  particular  charge  of  one  of  the  members  of  the  junta,  Diego 
Deza,  auditor  of  the  Holy  Office,  and  lately  raised  by  Espinosa  to  the  im- 
portant post  of  president  of  the  chancery  of  Granada.  This  put  him  at  once 
at  the  head  of  the  civil  administration  of  the  province,  as  the  marquis  of 
Mondejar  was  at  the  head  of  the  military.  The  different  views  of  policy 
entertained  by  the  two  men  led  to  a  conflict  of  authority,  which  proved  highly 
prejudicial  to  affairs.  Deza,  who  afterwards  rose  to  the  dignity  of  cardinal, 
was  a  man  whose  plausible  manners  covered  an  inflexible  will.  He  showed, 
notwithstanding,  an  entire  subserviency  to  the  wishes  of  his  patron,  Espiuosa, 
who  committed  to  him  the  execution  of  his  plans. 

The  president  resolved,  with  more  policy  than  humanity,  to  defer  the  publica- 
tion of  the  edict  till  the  ensuing  first  of  January,  1567,  the  day  preceding  that 
which  the  Spaniards  commemorated  as  the  anniversary  of  the  surrender  of 
the  capital  This  humiliating  event,  brought  home  at  such  a  crisis  to  the 
Moriscoes,  might  help  to  break  their  spirits,  and  dispose  them  to  receive  the 
obnoxious  edict  with  less  resistance. 

On  the  appointed  day  the  magistrates  of  the  principal  tribunals,  with  the 
corregidor  of  Granada  at  their  head,  went  in  solemn  procession  to  the  Albaicin, 
the  quarter  occupied  by  the  Moriscoes.  They  marched  to  the  sound  of  kettle- 
drums, trumpets,  and  other  instruments ;  and  the  inhabitants,  attracted  by 
the  noise  and  fond  of  novelty,  came  running  from  their  houses  to  swell  the 
ranks  of  the  procession  on  its  way  to  the  great  square  of  Bab  el  Bonat.  This 
was  an  open  space,  of  large  extent,  where  the  people  of  Granada,  in  ancient 
times,  used  to  assemble  to  celebrate  the  coronation  of  a  new  sovereign  ;  and 
the  towers  were  still  standing  from  which  the  Moslem  banners  waved,  on  those 
days,  over  the  heads  of  the  shouting  multitude.  As  the  people  now  gathered 
tumultuously  around  these  ancient  buildings,  the  public  crier,  from  an  elevated 
place,  read,  in  audible  tones  and  in  the  Arabic  language,  the  royal  ordinance. 
One  may  imagine  the  emotions  of  shame,  sorrow,  and  indignation  with  which 
the  vast  assembly,  consisting  of  both  sexes,  listened  to  the  words  of  an  instru- 
ment every  sentence  of  which  seemed  to  convey  a  personal  indignity  to  the 
hearers, — an  outrage  on  all  those  ideas  of  decorum  and  decency  in  which  they 
had  been  nurtured  from  infancy  ;  which  rudely  rent  asunder  all  the  fond  ties 
of  country  and  kindred  ;  which  violated  the  privacy  of  domestic  life,  deprived 
them  of  the  use  of  their  own  speech,  and  reduced  them  to  a  state  of  utter 
humiliation  unknown  to  the  meanest  of  their  slaves.  Some  of  the  weaker  sort 
gave  way  to  piteous  and  passionate  exclamations,  wringing  their  hands  in  an 
agony  of  grief.  Others,  of  sterner  temper,  broke  forth  into  menaces  and  fierce 
invective,  accompanied  with  the  most  furious  gesticulations.  Others,  again, 
listened  with  that  dogged,  determined  air  which  showed  that  the  mood  was 
not  the  less  dangerous  that  it  was  a  silent  one.  The  whole  multitude  was  in 
a  state  of  such  agitation  that  an  accident  might  have  readily  produced  an 
explosion  which  would  have  shaken  Granada  to  its  foundations.  Fortunately, 
there  were  a  few  discreet  persons  in  the  assembly,  older  and  more  temperate 
than  the  rest,  who  had  sufficient  authority  over  their  countrymen  to  prevent 
a  tumult.  They  reminded  them  that  in  their  fathers'  time  the  emperor 
Charles  the  Fifth  had  consented  to  suspend  the  execution  of  a  similar  ordi- 
nance. At  all  events,  it  was  better  to  try  first.what  could  be  done  by  argument 
and  persuasion.  When  these  failed,  it  would  be  time  enough  to  think  of 
vengeance.21 

11  Marmol,  Rebelion  de  los  Moriscos,  torn.        d'Ksp&gne,  torn.  li.  p.  283.— Ferreras,  Hist. 
1.  pp.  147-151.— Circourt,  Hist,  des  Arabes       d'Espagne,  torn.  ix.  p.  533. — Dr.  Salazar  de 


603 

One  of  the  older  Moriscoes,  a  man  of  much  consideration  among  his 
countrymen,  was  accordingly  chosen  to  wait  on  the  president  and  explain 
their  views  in  regard  to  the  edict.  This  he  did  at  great  length,  and  in  a 
manner  which  must  have  satisfied  any  fair  mind  of  the  groundlessness  of  the 
charges  brought  against  the  Moslems,  and  the  cruelty  and  impracticability  of 
the  measures  proposed  by  the  government.  The  president,  having  granted  to 
the  envoy  a  patient  and  courteous  hearing,  made  a  short  and  not  very  success- 
ful attempt  to  vindicate  the  course  of  the  administration.  He  finally  disposed 
of  the  whole  question  by  declaring  that  "  the  law  was  too  just  and  holy,  and 
had  been  made  with  too  much  consideration,  ever  to  be  repealed  ;  and  that, 
in  fine,  regarded  as  a  question  of  interest,  his  majesty  estimated  the  salvation 
of  a  single  soul  as  of  greater  price  than  all  the  revenues  he  drew  from  the 
Moriscoes."  n  An  answer  like  this  must  have  effectually  dispelled  all  thoughts 
of  a  composition,  such  as  had  formerly  been  made  with  the  emperor. 

Defeated  in  this  quarter,  the  Moriscoes  determined  to  lay  their  remonstrance 
before  the  throne.  They  were  fortunate  in  obtaining  for  this  purpose  the 
services  of  Don  Juan  Henriquez,  a  nobleman  of  the  highest  rank  and  con- 
sideration, who  had  large  estates  at  Beza,  in  the  heart  of  Granada,  and  who 
felt  a  strong  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate  natives.  Having  consented,  though 
with  much  reluctance,  to  undertake  the  mission,  he  repaired  to  Madrid, 
obtained  an  audience  of  the  king,  and  presented  to  him  a  memorial  on  behalf 
of  his  unfortunate  subjects.  Philip  received  him  graciously,  and  promised  to 
give  all  attention  to  the  paper.  "  What  I  have  done  in  this  matter,"  said  the 
king,  "  has  been  done  by  the  advice  of  wise  and  conscientious  men,  who  have 
given  me  to  understand  that  it  was  my  duty."  ** 

Shortly  afterwards,  Henriquez  received  an  intimation  that  he  was  to  look 
for  his  answer  to  the  president  of  Castile.  Espinosa,  after  listening  to  the 
memorial,  expressed  his  surprise  that  a  person  of  the  high  condition  of  Don 
Juan  Henriquez  should  have  consented  to  take  charge  of  such  a  mission. 
"  It  was  for  that  very  reason  I  undertook  it,"  replied  the  nobleman,  "  as 
affording  me  a  better  opportunity  of  being  of  service  to  the  king."  "  It  can 
be  of  no  use,"  said  tne  minister:  "religious  men  have  represented  to  his 
majesty  that  at  his  door  lies  the  salvation  of  these  Moors  ;  and  the  ordinance 
which  has  been  decreed,  he  has  determined  shall  be  carried  into  effect."  M 

Baffled  in  this  direction,  the  persevering  envoy  laid  his  memorial  before  the 
councillors  of  state,  and  endeavoured  to  interest  them  in  behalf  of  his  clients. 
In  this  he  met  with  more  success ;  and  several  of  that  body,  among  whom 
may  be  mentioned  the  duke  of  Alva  and  Luis  de  Avila,  the  grand  commander 
of  Alcantara,  whom  Charles  the  Fifth  had  honoured  with  his  friendship, 
entered  heartily  into  his  views.  But  it  availed  little  with  the  minister,  who 
would  not  even  consent  to  delay  the  execution  of  the  ordinance  until  time 
should  have  been  given  for  further  inquiry,  or  to  confine  the  operation  of  it, 
at  the  outset,  to  one  or  two  of  the  provisions,  in  order  to  ascertain  what 

Mvnditu  considers  that  nothing  hut  a  real  farda,  y  que  preclaha  mas  sal varuna  alma,  quo 

love  "I"  rebellion  could  have  induced  thf  Mo-  todo  quanto  le  jxxlidii  dar  de  renta  log  Mons- 

rlscoes  to  find  a  pretext  for  it  In  a  measure  no  con  mipvaniente  cotivertidos."     Marmol,  Re- 

Just  and  praise  worthy,  and  every  way  HO  con-  belion  de  loo  Morlncoa,  torn.  I.  p.  163. 

duclve  to  tbelr  own  salvation,  aa  this  ordl-  "  "Que  el  habia  consultado  aquel  noRocio 

nance :  "  Tomaron  |or  achaque esta  accion  tan  con  borabres  de  ciencla  y  conciencia,  y  le 

jtistincada  y  merltoria  del  Rey,  y  para  BUS  doclan   que  estaba  obligado  a  hacer  lo  quo 

almas  tan  provechosa  y  saludable."    Monar-  hacia."    Ibid,,  p.  175. 

qnlade  Kspana,  torn.  il.  p.  137.  "  "Que  el  negocio  de  la  prematlca  entaha 

'"  "  Y  al  fin  cmidiiyii  am  dccirle  renoluta-  detenu inado,  y  su  Magestad  resoluta  en  que 

mente,  que  su  Magest.d  querla  ma*  fe  que  Be  cumplieoe."    Ibid.,  ubl  supra. 


504  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

would  probably  be  the  temper  of  the  Moriscoes.*4  Nothing  would  suit  the 
peremptory  humour  of  Espinosa  but  the  instant  execution  of  the  law  in  all  its 
details. 

Nor  would  he  abate  anything  of  this  haughty  tone  in  favour  of  the  captain- 
general,  the  marquis  of  Mondejar.  That  nobleman,  with  good  reason,  had 
felt  himself  aggrieved  that  in  discussions  so  materially  affecting  his  own 
government  he  should  not  have  been  invited  to  take  a  part.  From  motives  of 
expediency,  as  much  as  of  humanity,  he  was  decidedly  opposed  to  the  passage 
of  the  ordinance.  It  was  perhaps  a  knowledge  of  this  that  had  excluded 
him  from  a  seat  in  the  junta.  His  representations  made  no  impression  on 
Espinosa ;  and  when  he  urged  that,  if  the  law  were  to  be  carried  into  effect, 
he  ought  to  be  provided  with  such  a  force  as  would  enable  him  to  quell  any 
attempt  at  resistance,  the  minister  made  light  of  the  danger,  assuring  him 
that  three  hundred  additional  troops  were  as  many  as  the  occasion  demanded. 
Espinosa  then  peremptorily  adjourned  all  further  discussion,  by  telling  the 
captain -general  that  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  return  at  once  to  Granada, 
where  his  presence  would  be  needed  to  enforce  the  execution  of  the  law." 

It  was  clear  that  no  door  was  left  open  to  further  discussion,  and  that, 
under  the  present  government,  no  chance  remained  to  the  unfortunate  Moris- 
coes  of  buying  off  the  law  by  the  payment  of  a  round  sum,  as  in  the  time  of 
Charles  the  Fifth.  All  negotiations  were  at  an  end.  They  had  only  to  choose 
between  implicit  obedience  and  open  rebellion.  It  was  not  strange  that  they 
chose  the  latter. 


CHAPTER  II. 

REBELLION  OF  THE  MOEI8COES. 

Resistance  of  the  Moriscoes — Night- Assault  on  Granada — Rising  in  the  Alpujarras — Election 
of  a  King— Massacre  of  the  Christians. 

1568. 

THE  same  day  on  which  the  ordinance  was  published  in  the  capital,  it  was 
proclaimed  in  every  part  of  the  kingdom  of  Granada.  Everywhere  it  was 
received  with  the  same  feelings  of  shame,  sorrow,  and  indignation.  Before 
giving  way  to  these  feelings  by  any  precipitate  action?  the  Moriscoes  of  the 
Alpujarras  were  discreet  enough  to  confer  with  their  countrymen  in  the 
Albaicin,  who  advised  them  to  remain  quiet  until  they  should  learn  the  result 
of  the  conferences  going  on  at  Madrid. 

Before  these  were  concluded,  the  year  expired  after  which  it  would  be  penal 
for  a  Morisco  to  wear  garments  of  silk.  By  the  president's  orders  it  was 
proclaimed  by  the  clergy,  in  the  pulpits  throughout  the  city,  that  the  law 
would  be  enforced  to  the  letter.  This  was  followed  by  more  than  one  edict 
relating  to  other  matters,  but  yet  tending  to  irritate  still  further  the  minds  of 
the  Moriscoes.1 

"  Mannol,  Rebelion  de  los  Moriscos,  torn.  de  Granada,  donde  seria  de  rnucha  importanria 

i.  p.  176.— Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vii.  BU  persona,  atropellando  como  siempre  todas 

cap.  21.  las  dificultailps  que  le  ponian  por  delante." 

'  "  A  estas  y  otras  mnchas  razones  que  el  Mannol,  Kebelion  de  los  Moriscos,  torn.  i.  p. 

Marques  de   Mondejar  daba,  Don   Diego  de  168. 

Espinosa  le  respondio,  que  la  voluntad  de  su  'An  ordinance  was  passed  at  this  time,  tliat 

Magestad  era  aquella,  y  que  se  fuese  al  reyno  the  Moriscoes  who  had  come  from  the  country 


RESISTANCE  OF  THE  MORISCOES.  505 

All  hope  of  relieving  themselves  of  the  detested  ordinance  having  thus 
vanished,  the  leaders  of  -the  Albaicin  took  counsel  as  to  the  best  mode  of 
resisting  the  government.  The  first  step  seemed  to  be  to  get  possession  of 
the  capital.  There  was  at  this  time  in  Granada  a  Morisco  named  Farax 
Aben-Farax,  who  followed  the  trade  of  a  dyer.  But,  though  he  was  engaged 
in  this  humble  calling,  the  best  blood  of  the  Abencerrages  flowed  in  his  veins. 
He  was  a  man  of  a  fierce,  indeed  ferocious  nature,  hating  the  Christians  with 
his  whole  heart,  and  longing  for  the  hour  when  he  could  avenge  on  their  heads 
the  calamities  of  his  countrymen.  As  his  occupation  carried,  him  frequently 
into  the  Alpujarras,  he  was  extensively  acquainted  with  the  inhabitants.  He 
undertook  to  raise  a  force  there  of  eight  thousand  men  and  bring  them  down 
secretly  by  night  into  the  vega,  where,  with  the  aid  of  his  countrymen  in  the 
Albaicin,  he  might  effect  an  entrance  into  the  city,  overpower  the  garrison  in 
the  Alhambra,  put  all  who  resisted  to  the  sword,  and  make  himself  master  of 
the  capital.  The  time  fixed  upon  for  the  execution  of  the  plan  was  Holy 
Thursday,  in  the  ensuing  month  of  April,  when  the  attention  01  the  Spaniards 
would  be  occupied  with  their  religious  solemnities. 

A  secret  known  to  so  many  could  not  be  so  well  kept,  and  for  so  long  a 
time,  but  that  spine  information  of  it  reached  the  ears  of  the  Christians.  It 
seems  to  have  given  little  uneasiness  to  Deza,  who  had  anticipated  some  such 
attempt  from  the  turbulent  spirit  of  the  Moriscoes.  The  captain-general, 
however,  thought  it  prudent  to  take  additional  precautions  against  it ;  and  he 
accordingly  distributed  arms  among  the  citizens,  strengthened  the  garrison  of 
the  Alhambra,  and  visited  several  of  the  great  towns  on  the  frontiers,  which 
he  placed  in  a  better  posture  of  defence.  The  Moriscoes,  finding  their  purpose 
exposed  to  the  authorities,  resolved  to  defer  the  execution  of  it  for  the  present. 
They  even  postponed  it  to  as  late  a  date  as  the  beginning  of  the  following 
year,  1569.  To  this  they  were  led,  we  are  told,  by  a  prediction  found  in  their 
religious  books,  that  the  year  of  their  liberation  would  be  one  that  began  on  a 
Saturday.  It  is  probable  that  the  wiser  men  of  the  Albaicin  were  less  influ- 
enced by  their  own  belief  in  the  truth  of  the  prophecy  than  by  the  influence 
it  would  exert  over  the  superstitious  minds  of  the  mountaineers,  among  whom 
it  was  diligently  circulated.* 

Having  settled  on  the  first  of  January  for  the  rising,  the  Moslems  of  Gra- 
nada strove,  by  every  outward  show  of  loyalty,  to  quiet  the  suspicions  of  the 
government.  But  in  this  they  were  thwarted  by  the  information  which  the 
latter  obtained  through  more  trustworthy  channels.  Still  surer  evidence  of 
their  intentions  was  found  in  a  letter  which  fell  by  accident  into  the  hands  of 
the  marquis  of  Mondejar.  It  was  addressed  by  one  of  the  leaders  of  the 
Albaicin  to  the  Moslems  of  the  Barhary  coast,  invoking  their  aid  by  the  ties  of 
consanguinity  and  of  a  common  faith.  "  We  are  sorely  beset,"  says  the  writer, 
"  and  our  enemies  encompass  us  all  around  like  a  consuming  (ire.  Our  troubles 
are  too  grievous  to  be  endured.  Written,"  concludes  the  passionate  author  of 

to  reside,  with  their  families,   in  Granada,  Moors  who  might  visit  Granada,  even  though 

should  leave  tbe  city  and  return  whence  they  they  came  not  a*  corsairs,  but  for  purposes  of 

came,  under  pain  of  death.     (Marmol,  He-  traffic.     (Lib.  viii.  tit.  26.  leyes  16, 18.)  Such 

belion  de  los  Monaco*,  torn.  1.  p.  169.)    By  a  law  proves  the  constant  apprehensions  in 

another  ordinance,   the   Morlscot-s  were  re-  which  the  Spaniards  lived  of  a  treasonable 

quired  to  give  up  their  children  between  the  correspondence  between  their  Morisco  subjects 

ages  of  three  and   fifteen,  to   be   |  Uced   in  and  the  foreign  Moslems, 
schools  and  educated  in  the  Christian  doctrine  '  Marmot,  Kebelion  de  los  Morincos,  torn.  i. 

and  the  Castllian   tongue.     (Ibid.,  p.  HO.)  pp.  2X1-233.— Mendoza,  Guerra  de   Granaila 

The  A'ueva  Ktcnpilacion  contains  two  laws  (Valencia,   1776),   p.  43.— liila,  Guerraa    de 

paused  about  this  lime,  making  It  a  capital  Granada,  torn.  it.  p.  724. 
offence  to  bold  any  intercourse  with  Turks  or 


506  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

the  epistle,  "  in  nights  of  tears  and  anguish,  with  hope  yet  lingering,  —  such 
hope  as  still  survives  amidst  all  the  bitterness  of  the  soul.  * 

But  the  Barbary  powers  were  too  much  occupied  by  their  petty  feuds  to 
give  much  more  than  fair  words  to  their  unfortunate  brethren  01  Granada. 
Perhaps  they  distrusted  the  efficacy  of  any  aid  they  could  render  in  so  unequal 
a  contest  as  that  against  the  Spanish  monarchy.  Yet  they  allowed  their 
subjects  to  embark  as  volunteers  in  the  war  ;  and  some  good  service  was 
rendered  by  the  Barbary  corsairs,  who  infested  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean, as  well  as  by  the  monfis,  —  as  the  African  adventurers  were  called  who 
took  part  with  their  brethren  in  the  Alpujarras,  where  they  made  themselves 
conspicuous  by  their  implacable  ferocity  against  the  Christians. 

Meanwhile  the  hot  blood  of  the  mountaineers  was  too  much  inflamed  by  the 
prospect  of  regaining  their  independence  to  allow  them  to  wait  patiently  for 
the  day  fixed  upon  for  the  outbreak.  Before  that  time  arrived,  several  acts  of 
violence  were  perpetrated,  —  forerunners  of  the  bloody  work  that  was  at  hand. 
In  the  month  of  December,  1568,  a  body  of  Spanish  alguazils,  with  some  other 
officers  of  justice,  were  cut  off  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Granada,  on  their  way 
to  that  city.  A  party  of  fifty  soldiers,  as  they  were  bearing  to  the  capital  a 
considerable  quantity  of  muskets,  —  a  tempting  prize  to  the  unarmed  Moris- 
coes,  —  were  an  murdered,  most  of  them  in  their  beds,  in  a  little  village  among 
the  mountains  where  they  had  halted  for  the  night.4  After  this  outrage,  Aben- 
Farax,  the  bold  dyer  of  Granada,  aware  of  the  excitement  it  must  create  in  the 
capital,  became  convinced  it  would  not  be  safe  for  him  to  postpone  his  intended 
assault  a  day  longer. 

At  the  head  of  only  a  hundred  and  eighty  followers,  without  waiting  to 
collect  a  larger  force,  he  made  his  descent  on  the  night  of  the  twenty-sixth  of 
December,  a  week  before  the  appointed  time,  into  the  veya  of  Granada.  It 
was  a  dreadful  night.  A  snow-storm  was  raging  wildly  among  the  mountains 
and  sweeping  down  in  pitiless  fury  on  the  plains  below.4  Favoured  by  the 
commotion  of  the  elements,  Aben-Farax  succeeded,  without  attracting  obser- 
vation, in  forcing  an  entrance  through  the  dilapidated  walls  of  the  city,  pene- 
trated at  once  into  the  Albaicin,  and  endeavoured  to  rouse  the  inhabitants 
from  their  slumbers.  Some  few  came  to  their  windows,  it  is  said,  but,  on 
learning  the  nature  of  the  summons,  hastily  closed  the  casements  and  with- 
drew, telling  Aben-Farax  that  "  it  was  madness  to  undertake  the  enterprise 
with  so  small  a  force,  and  that  he  had  come  before  his  time."  '  It  was  in  vain 
that  the  enraged  chief  poured  forth  imprecations  on  their  perfidy  and  cowar- 
dice, in  vain  that  he  inarched  through  the  deserted  streets,  demolishing  cruci- 
fixes and  other  symbols  of  Christian  worship  which  he  found  in  his  way,  or 
that  he  shouted  out  the  watchword  of  the  faithful,  "  There  is  but  one  God, 

*  "Escrita  en  noches  de  angustia  y  de  la-  he  avows  that  strict  conformity  to  truth  which 

grimas  corrientes,  sustentadas  con  esperanza,  y  is  the  cardinal  virtue  of  the  chronicler.    S  e 

la  esperanza  ee  derivade  la  amargura."    Mar-  the  Anstriada  (Madrid,  1584). 

mol,  Rebelion  de  los  Moriscos.  torn.  i.  p.  219.  •  "Pocos  sois,  i  venfs  presto."    Mendoza, 

4  Marmol,  Rebelion  de  los  Moriscos,  torn.  L.  Guerra  de   Granada,  p.    47.  —  Hita    gives  a 

p.  235.  canciim  in  his  work,  the  burden  of  which  is  a 

complaint  that  the  mountaineers  had  made 


. 

Cubre  la  blatica  nieve  loe  caminos  "  Pocos  sois,  y  venis  tarde." 

Tambien  los   hombres   luego  va  cubri-  {OnmM  de  ^n^  tom.  1L  p.  33.)     -j^ 

difference  is  explained  by  the  circumstance 

So  sings,  or  rather  says,  the  poet-chronicler  that  the  author  of  the  verses  —  probably  Hita 

Rufo,  whose  epic  of  four-and-twenty  cantos  himself  —  considers  that  Christmas  Eve,  not 

shows  him  to  have  been  much  more  of  a  New  Year's  Eve,  was  the  time  fixed  for  the 

chronicler  than  a  poet.    Indeed,  in  bis  preface  assault. 


NIGHT-ASSAULT  ON  GEANADA.  507 

and  Mahomet  is  the  prophet  of  God  ! "  The  uproar  of  the  tempest,  fortunately 
for  him,  drowned  every  other  noise ;  and  no  alarm  was  given  till  he  stumbled 
on  a  guard  of  some  five  or  six  soldiers  who  were  huddled  round  a  fire  in  one  of 
the  public  squares.  One  of  these  Farax  despatched ;  the  others  made  their 
escape,  raising  the  cry  that  the  enemy  was  upon  them.  The  great  bell  of  St. 
Salvador  rang  violently,  calling  the  inhabitants  to  arms.  Dawn  was  fast 
approaching ;  and  the  Moorish  chief,  who  felt  himself  unequal  to  an  encounter 
in  which  he  was  not  to  be  supported  by  his  brethren  in  the  Albaicin,  thought 
it  prudent  to  make  his  retreat.  This  he  did  with  colours  flying  and  music 
playing,  all  in  as  cool  and  orderly  a  manner  as  if  it  had  been  only  a  holiday 
parade. 

Meantime  the  citizens,  thus  suddenly  startled  from  their  beds,  gathered 
together,  with  eager  looks  and  faces  white  with  fear,  to  learn  the  cause  of  the 
tumult ;  and  their  alarm  was  not  diminished  by  finding  that  the  enemy  had 
been  prowling  round  their  dwellings,  like  a  troop  of  mountain  wolves,  while 
they  had  been  buried  in  slumber.  The  marquis  of  Mondejar  called  his  men  to 
horse,  and  would  have  instantly  given  chase  to  the  invaders,  but  waited  until 
he  had  learned  the  actual  condition  of  the  Albaicin,  where  a  population  of  ten 
thousand  Moriscoes,  had  they  been  mischievously  inclined,  might,  notwith- 
standing the  timely  efforts  of  the  government  to  disarm  them,  have  proved  too 
strong  for  the  slender  Spanish  garrison  in  the  Alhambra.  All,  however,  was 
quiet  in  the  Moorish  quarter ;  and,  assured  of  this,  the  captain-general  sallied 
out,  at  the  head  of  his  cavalry  and  a  small  corps  of  foot,  in  quest  of  the 
enemy.  But  he  had  struck  into  the  mountain  passes  south  of  Granada ;  and 
Menqoza,  after  keeping  on  his  track,  as  well  as  the  blinding  tempest  would 
permit,  through  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  at  nightfall  gave  up  the  pursuit 
as  hopeless  and  brought  back  his  way-worn  cavalcade  to  the  city.7 

Aben-Farax  and  his  troop,  meanwhile,  traversing  the  snowy  skirts  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  came  out  on  the  broad  and  populous  valley  of  Lecrin,  spread- 
ing the  tidings  everywhere,  as  they  went,  that  the  insurrection  was  begun, 
that  the  Alkiidn  was  in  movement,  and  calling  on  all  true  believers  to  take 
up  arms  in  defence  of  their  faith.  The  summons  did  not  fall  on  deaf  ears.  A 
train  had  been  fired  which  ran  along  the  mountain-regions  to  the  south  of 
Granada,  stretching  from  Almeria  and  the  Murcian  borders  on  the  east  to  the 
neighbourhood  of  Velez  Malaga  on  the  west.  In  three  days  the  whole  country 
was  in  amis.  Then  burst  forth  the  fierce  passions  of  the  Arab, — all  that 
unquenchable  hate  which  seventy  years  of  oppression  had  nourished  in  his 
bosom,  and  which  now  showed  itself  in  one  universal  cry  for  vengeance.  The 
bloody  drama  opened  with  the  massacre  of  nearly  every  Christian  man 
within  the  Moorish  borders,— and  that  too  with  circumstances  of  a  refined 
and  deliberate  cruelty  of  which,  happily,  few  examples  are  to  be  found  in 
history. 

The  first  step,  however,  in  the  revolutionary  movement  had  been  a  false  one, 
inasmuch  as  the  insurgents  had  failed  to  secure  possession  of  the  capital,  which 
would  have  furnished  so  important  a  point  cPapjnii  for  future  operations. 
Yet,  if  contemporary  chroniclers  are  correct,  this  failure  should  rather  be 
imputed  to  miscalculation  than  to  cowardice.  According  to  them,  the  persons 
of  most  consideration  in  the  Albaicia  were  many  of  them  wealthy  citizens, 
accustomed  to  the  easy,  luxurious  way  of  life  so  well  suited  to  the  Moorish 
taste.  They  had  never  intended  to  peril  their  fortunes  by  engaging  person- 

'  Mannol,  Rebellon  de  los  Morincos,  torn.  I.  Herrera,  Hlxtoria  general,  torn.  I.  p.  726.— 
p.  338. — Memloza,  (iuerra  de  (innada,  pp.  Krrrcras,  Hist,  d'fispagae,  torn.  Ix.  |>j>.  67J- 
45-52.— Miniana,  lllst.  de  tepafia,  p.  J67.—  676. 


508  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

ally  in  so  formidable  a  contest  as  that  with  the  Castilian  crown.  They  had 
only  proposed  to  urge  their  simple  countrymen  in  the  Alpujarras  to  such  a 
show  of  resistance  as  should  intimidate  the  Spaniards  and  lead  them  to  miti- 
gate, if  not  indeed  to  rescind,  the  hated  ordinance.8  If  such  was  their  calcu- 
lation, as  the  result  showed,  it  miserably  failed. 

As  the  Moriscoes  had  now  proclaimed  their  independence,  it  became  neces- 
sary to  choose  a  sovereign  in  place  of  the  one  whose  authority  they  had  cast 
aside.  The  leaders  in  the  Albaicin  selected  for  this  dangerous  pre-eminence  a 
young  man  who  was  known  to  the  Spaniards  by  his  Castilian  name  of  Don 
Fernando  de  Valor.  He  was  descended  in  a  direct  line  from  the  ancient  house 
of  the  Omeyas,*  who  for  nearly  four  centuries  had  sat  with  glory  on  the  throne 
of  Cordova.  He  was  but  twenty-two  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  his  election, 
and  according  to  a  contemporary,  who  had  seen  him,  possessed  a  comely  person 
and  engaging  manners.  His  complexion  was  of  a  deep  olive ;  his  beard 
was  thin ;  his  eyes  were  large  and  dark,  with  eyebrows  well  defined  and 
nearly  approaching  each  other.  His  deportment  was  truly  royal ;  and  his 
lofty  sentiments  were  worthy  of  the  princely  line  from  which  he  was  de- 
scended." Notwithstanding  this  flattering  portrait  from  the  pen  of  a  Castilian, 
his  best  recommendation,  to  judge  from  his  subsequent  career,  seems  to  have 
been  his  descent  from  a  line  of  kings.  He  had  been  so  prodigal  in  his  way  of 
life  that,  though  so  young,  he  had  squandered  his  patrimony  and  was  at  this 
very  time  under  arrest  for  debt.  He  nad  the  fiery  temperament  of  his  nation, 
and  had  given  evidence  of  it  by  murdering  with  his  own  hand  a  man  who  had 
borne  testimony  against  his  father  in  a  criminal  prosecution.  Amidst  his 
luxurious  self-indulgence  he  must  be  allowed  to  have  shown  some  energy  of 
character  and  an  unquestionable  courage.  He  was  attached  to  the  institu- 
tions of  his  country ;  and  his  ferocious  nature  was  veiled  under  a  bland  and 
plausible  exterior,  that  won  him  golden  opinions  from  the  multitude.11 

Soon  after  his  election,  and  just  before  the  irruption  of  Aben-Farax,  the 
Morisco  prince  succeeded  in  making  his  escape  from  Granada,  and,  flying  to 
the  mountains,  took  refuge  among  his  own  kindred,  the  powerful  family  of 
the  Valoris,  in  the  village  of  Beznar.  Here  his  countrymen  gathered  round 
him,  and  confirmed  by  acclamation  the  choice  of  the  people  of  Granada.  For 
this  the  young  chieftain  was  greatly  indebted  to  the  efforts  of  his  uncle,  Aben- 
Jahuar,  commonly  called  El  Zaguer,  a  man  of  much  authority  among  his 
tribe,  who,  waiving  his  own  claims  to  the  sceptre,  employed  his  influence  in 
favour  of  his  nephew. 

The  ceremony  of  the  coronation  was  of  a  martial  kind,  well  suited  to  the 
rough  fortunes  of  the  adventurer.  Four  standards,  emblazoned  with  the 

*  "Creyendo  que  lo  nno  y  lo  otro  serla  savage    tone    of  criticism  with   which   the 

parte  para  qun  por  bien  de  paz  se  diese  nueva  learned  Nic.  Antonio  denounces  Hita's  charm- 

orden  en  lo  de  la  prematica,  sin  aventurar  ing  volumes  as  "  Milesian  tales,  fit  only  to 

ellos  BUS  personas  y  haciendas."     Marmol,  amuse  the  lazy  and  the  listless."    (Biblio- 

Rebelion  de  los  Moriscos,  torn.  i.  p.  239.  theca  Nova,  torn.  i.  p.  536.)    Hita  was  un- 

»  Bent  Umeyyah  in  the  Arabic,  according  doubtedly  the  prince  of  romancers ;  but  Be- 
to  an  indisputable  authority,  my  learned  tion  is  not  falsehood  ;  and  when  the  novelist, 
friend  Don  Pascual  de  Gayangos.  See  his  who  served  in  the  wars  of  the  Alpujarras, 
Mohammedan  Dynasties  in  Spain,  passim.  tells  us  of  things  which  he  professes  to  have 

10  "Era  mancebo  de  veinte  y  dos  afios,  de  seen  with  his  own  eyes,  we  may  surely  cite 

poca  barba,  color  moreno,  verdinegro,  ceji-  him  as  an  historical  authority, 

junto,  ojos  negros  y  grandes,  gentil  hombre  "  "  Usava  de  blandura  general ;  queria  ser 

Ue  cuerpo :  mosiraba  en  su  talle  y  garbo  ser  tenido  por  Cabeza,  i  no  por  Rei :  la  crueldad, 

de  sangre  real,  como  en  verdad  lo  era,  teni-  la  codicia  cubierta  engafio  &  muchos  en  los 

endo    los    pensumientos    corrpspondientes."  principles."  Mendoza,  Uuerra  de  Granada,  p. 

Hita,  Guerras  <1e  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  13. —  129. 
Few   will  be  disposed  to    acquiesce  in  the 


ELECTION  OF  A  KING.  509 

Moslem  crescent,  were  spread  upon  the  ground,  with  their  spear-heads  seve- 
rally turned  towards  the  four  points  of  the  compass.  The  Moorish  prince, 
who  had  been  previously  arrayed  in  a  purple  robe,  with  a  crimson  scarf  or 
shawl,  the  insignia  of  royalty,  enveloping  his  shoulders,  knelt  down  on  th& 
banners,  with  nis  face  turned  towards  Mecca,  and,  after  a  brief  prayer, 
solemnly  swore  to  live  and  die  in  defence  of  his  crown,  his  faith,  and  his  sub- 
iects.  One  of  the  principal  attendants,  prostrating  himself  on  the  ground, 
Kissed  the  footprints  of  the  newly-elected  monarch,  in  token  of  the  allegiance 
of  the  people.  He  was  then  raised  on  the  shoulders  of  four  of  the  assistants, 
and  borne  aloft  amidst  the  waving  of  banners  and  the  loud  shouts  of  the 
multitude, '-  Allah  exalt  Muley-Mohammed-Aben-Humeya,  lord  of  Andalucia 
and  Granada  ! " 12  Such  were  the  simple  forms  practised  in  ancient  times  by 
the  Spanish-Arabian  princes,  when  their  empire,  instead  of  being  contracted 
within  the  rocky  girdle  of  the  mountains,  stretched  over  the  fairest  portions 
of  the  Peninsula.1* 

The  first  act  of  Aben-IIumeya  was  to  make  his  appointments  to  the  chief 
military  offices.  El  Zaguer,  his  uncle,  he  made  captain-general  of  his  forces. 
Aben-Farax,  who  had  nimself  aspired  to  the  diadem,  he  removed  to  a  dis- 
tance, by  sending  him  on  an  expedition  to  collect  such  treasures  as  could  be 
gathered  from  tne  Christian  churches  in  the  Alpujarras.  He  appointed 
officers  to  take  cliarge  of  the  different  tahas,  or  districts,  into  wnich  the 
country  was  divided.  Having  completed  these  arrangements,  the  new  mon- 
arch— the  reyezuelo,  or  "  little  king,"  of  the  Alpujarras,  as  he  was  contemp- 
tuously stylea  by  the  Spaniards — transferred  his  residence  to  the  central  part 
of  his  dominions,  where  he  repeated  the  ceremony  of  his  coronation.  He 
made  a  rapid  visit  to  the  most  important  places  in  the  sierra,  everywhere 
calling  on  the  inhabitants  to  return  to  their  ancient  faith  and  to  throw  off 
the  hated  yoke  of  the  Spaniards.  He  then  established  himself  in  the  wildest 
parts  of  the  Alpujarras,  where  he  endeavoured  to  draw  his  forces  to  a  head, 
and  formed  the  plan  of  his  campaign.  It  was  such  as  was  naturally  sug- 
gested by  the  character  of  the  country,  which,  broken  and  precipitous,  inter- 
sected by  many  a  deep  ravine  and  dangerous  pass,  affordea  excellent  oppor- 
tunities for  harassing  an  invading  foe,  and  for  entangling  him  in  those 
inextricable  defiles,  where  a  few  mountaineers  acquainted  with  the  ground 
would  be  more  than  a  match  for  an  enemy  far  superior  in  discipline  and 
numbers. 

While  Aben-Humeya  was  thus  occupied  in  preparing  for  the  struggle,  the 
work  of  death  had  already  begun  among  the  Spanish  population  of  the  Alpu- 
jarras ;  and  Spaniards  were  to  be  found,  in  greater  or  less  numbers,  in  all  the 
Moorish  towns  and  hamlets  that  dotted  the  dark  sides  of  the  sierras  or  nestled 
in  the  green  valleys  at  their  base.  Here  they  dwelt  side  by  side  with  the 
Moriscoes,  employed,  probably,  less  in  the  labours  of  the  loom,  for  which  the 
natives  of  this  region  had  long  l)een  famous,  than  in  that  careful  husbandry 
which  they  might  readily  have  learned  from  their  Moorish  neighbours,  and 
which,  under  their  hands,  had  clothed  every  spot  with  verdure,  making  the 

'•  Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,   p.  40. —  I'na  hrfziu  rl  Levante  esclarecido. 

The  ceremonies  of  the  coronation  make,  of  Otra  a  do  el  sol  ue  entire  en  negro  veto, 

course,  a  brave  show  in  Kufo's  epic.    Oue  Y  otras  doe  a  los  polos  doe  del  cielo." 
stanza  will  suffice :  La  Austriada,  fol.  24. 

44  Entonces  con  aplauso  1*  pnsleron  "  "  Tal  era  la  nntigua  ceremonia  con  quo 

A I  nuevo  Key  de  purpura  un  vestldo,  ellpian  Ins  Reyes  dc  la  Andalucia,  i  deapueH 

Y  a  manerade  beca  le  cineron  Ion  de  Granada."    Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Gra- 

Al  cuello  y  ombros  nn  ccndal  brufildo,  nada,  p.  40. 
Quatro  vanderas  a  BUS  pies  u-ndu-ron, 


510  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

wilderness  to  blossom  like  the  rose.14  Thus  living  in  the  midst  of  those  who 
professed  the  same  religion  with  themselves,  and  in  the  occasional  interchange, 
at  least,  of  the  kind  offices  of  social  intercourse,  which  sometimes  led  to  nearer 
domestic  ties,  the  Christians  of  the  Alpujarras  dwelt  in  blind  security,  little 
dreaming  of  the  mine  beneath  their  feet. 

But  no  sooner  was  the  first  note  of  insurrection  sounded  than  the  scene 
changed  as  if  by  magic.  Every  Morisco  threw  away  his  mask,  and,  turning 
on  the  Christians,  snowed  himself  in  his  true  aspect,  as  their  avowed  and 
mortal  enemy. 

A  simultaneous  movement  of  this  kind,  through  so  wide  an  extent  of 
country,  intimates  a  well-concerted  plan  of  operations  ;  and  we  may  share  in 
the  astonishment  of  the  Castilian  writers  that  a  secret  of  such  a  nature  and 
known  to  so  many  individuals  should  have  been  so  long  and  faithfully  kept,  — 
in  the  midst,  too,  of  those  who  had  the  greatest  interest  in  detecting  it,15  - 
some  of  them,  it  may  be  added,  spies  of  the  Inquisition,  endowed,  as  they 
seem  to  have  been,  with  almost  supernatural  powers  for  scenting  out  the 
taint  of  heresy.16  It  argues  an  intense  feeling  of  hatred  in  the  Morisco  that 
he  could  have  been  so  long  proof  against  the  garrulity  that  loosens  the  tongue, 
and  against  the  sympathy  that  so  often,  in  similar  situations,  unlocks  the 
heart  to  save  some  friend  from  the  doom  of  his  companions.  But  no  such 
instance  either  of  levity  or  lenity  occurred  among  this  extraordinary  people. 
And  when  the  hour  arrived,  and  the  Christians  discerned  their  danger  in  the 
menacing  looks  and  gestures  of  their  Moslem  neighbours,  they  were  as  much 
astounded  by  it  as  the  unsuspecting  traveller  on  whom,  as  he  heedlessly 
journeys  through  some  pleasant  country,  the  highwayman  has  darted  from 
his  covert  by  the  roadside. 

The  first  impulse  of  the  Christians  seems  to  have  been  very  generally  to  take 
refuge  in  the  churches  ;  and  every  village,  however  small,  had  at  least  one 
church,  where  the  two  races  met  together  to  join  in  the  forms  of  Christian 
worship.  The  fugitives  thought  to  find  protection  in  their  holy  places  and  in 
the  presence  of  their  venerated  pastors,  whose  spiritual  authority  had  extended 
over  all  the  inhabitants.  But  trie  wild  animal  of  the  forest,  now  that  he  had 
regained  his  freedom,  gave  little  heed  to  the  call  of  his  former  keeper,—  unless 
it  were  to  turn  and  rend  him. 

Here,  crowded  together  like  a  herd  of  panic-stricken  deer  with  the  hounds 
upon  their  track,  the  terrified  people  soon  found  the  church  was  no  place  of 
security,  and  they  took  refuge  in  the  adjoining  tower,  as  a  place  of  greater 
strength  and  affording  a  better  means  of  defence  against  an  enemy.  The  mob 
of  their  pursuers  then  broke  into  the  church,  which  they  speedily  despoiled  of 
its  ornaments,  trampling  the  crucifixes  and  other  religious  symbols  under  their 
feet,  rolling  the  sacred  images  in  the  dust,  and  desecrating  the  altars  by  the 
sacrifice  of  swine,  or  by  some  other  act  denoting  their  scorn  and  hatred  of  the 
Christian  worship." 

14  "  Qne  en  la  agriculture  tienen  cipios  desta  rebelion,  que  gente  de  ruediana 

Tal  ertndio,  tal  destreza,  condicion  tnostrada  &  puardar  poco  secreto  i 

Que  ii  prefieces  de  su  bazada  hablar  juntos,  callasen  tanto  tiempo,  i  tan  tos 

Hacen  fecundas  las  piedras."  hombres,   en  tierra  donde  hai   Alcaldes   de 

Calderon,  Amar  despues  de  la  C"rte  i  Inquisidores,  cuya  profesion  es  des- 

Muerte,  Jornada  II.  cubrir  delitos."  Mendoza,  Guerrade  Granada, 


legio  que  no  cometieron."    Marmol,  Rebelion 
Una  cosa  mui  de  notar  califica  los  prin-       de  Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  275. 


MASSACRE  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  611 

They  next  assailed  the  towers,  the  entrances  to  which  the  Spaniards  had 
barricaded  as  strongly  as  they  could  ;  though,  unprovided  as  they  were  with 
means  of  defence,  except  such  arms  as  they  nad  snatched  in  the  hurry  of  their 
flight,  they  could  have  little  hope  of  standing  a  siege.  Unfortunately,  these 
towers  were  built  more  or  less  of  wood,  which  the  assailants  readily  set  on  fire, 
and  thus  compelled  the  miserable  inmates  either  to  surrender  or  to  perish  in 
the  flames.  In  some  instances  they  chose  the  latter ;  and  the  little  garrison — 
men,  women,  and  children — were  consumed  together  on  one  common  funeral 
pile.  More  frequently  they  shrank  from  this  fearful  death,  and  surrendered  at 
the  mercy  of  their  conquerors, — such  mercy  as  made  them  soon  regret  that 
they  had  not  stayed  by  the  blazing  rafters. 

The  men  were  speedily  separated  from  the  women,  and  driven,  with  blows 
and  imprecations,  like  so  many  cattle,  to  a  place  of  confinement.  From  this 
loathsome  prison  they  were  dragged  out,  three  or  four  at  a  time,  day  after  day. 
the  longer  to  protract  their  sufferings ;  then,  with  their  arms  pinioned  behind 
them,  and  stripped  of  their  clothing,  they  were  thrown  into  the  midst  of  an 
infuriated  mob,  consisting  of  both  sexes,  who,  armed  with  swords,  hatchets, 
and  bludgeons,  soon  felled  their  victims  to  the  ground  and  completed  the 
bloody  work. 

The  mode  of  death  was  often  varied  to  suit  the  capricious  cruelty  of  the 
executioners.  At  Guecija,  where  the  olive  grew  abundant,  there  was  a  con- 
vent of  Augustine  monks,  who  were  all  murdered  by  being  thrown  into 
caldrons  of  boiling  oil1*  Sometimes  the  death  of  the  victim  was  attended 
with  circumstances  of  diabolical  cruelty  not  surpassed  by  anything  recorded 
of  our  North  American  savages.  At  a  place  called  Pitres  de  Ferreyra,  the 
priest  of  the  village  was  raised  by  means  of  a  pulley  to  a  beam  that  projected 
from  the  tower,  and  was  then  allowed  to  drop  from  a  great  height  upon  the 
ground.  The  act  was  repeated  more  than  once,  in  the  presence  of  his  aged 
mother,  who,  in  an  agony  of  grief,  embracing  her  dying  son,  besought  him  "to 
trust  in  God  and  the  Blessed  Virgin,  who  through  these  torments  would  bring 
him  into  eternal  life."  The  mangled  carcass  of  the  poor  victim,  broken  and 
dislocated  in  every  limb,  was  then  turned  over  to  the  Moorish  women,  who, 
with  their  scissors,  bodkins,  and  other  feminine  implements,  speedily  despatched 
him." 

The  women,  indeed,  throughout  this  persecution,  seem  to  have  had  as  rabid 
a  thirst  for  vengeance  as  the  men.  Even  the  children  were  encouraged  to  play 
their  part  in  the  bloody  drama ;  and  many  a  miserable  captive  was  set  up  as 
a  target  to  be  shot  at  with  the  arrows  of  the  Moorish  boys. 

The  rage  of  the  barbarians  was  especially  directed  against  the  priests,  who 
had  so  often  poured  forth  anathemas  against  the  religion  which  the  Moslems 
loved,  and  who,  as  their  spiritual  directors,  had  so  often  called  them  to  account 
for  offences  against  the  religion  which  they  abhorred.  At  Coadba  the  priest 
was  stretched  out  before  a  brazier  of  live  coals  until  his  feet,  which  had  been 
smeared  with  pitch  and  oil,  were  burned  to  a  cinder.  His  two  sisters  were 
compelled  to  witness  the  agonies  of  their  brother,  which  were  still  further 
heightened  by  the  brutal  treatment  which  he  saw  them  endure  from  their 
tormentors." 

"  "Qnemaron   por  voto  un   Convento  de  de  firanada,  p.  60. 

Krailen  Auguatinos,  que  te  recugieron  a  la  "  Marniol,  Rebellon  de  Granada,  torn.  I.  p. 

Torre  ecbaiuioles  pur  un  boradu  de  lo  alto  271. — Fcrrerao,  Hist.  d'Espagne,  torn.  U.  p. 

azcitu  blrviendo :    tirvienduoe  de    la   abun-  &»'J. 

(Lincia  que   Dioe  lea  diC>  en  aqticll*  tlerra,  -°  "  Y  para  darle  mayor  tormento  traxeron 

pan  abogar  BUB  Frolics."    Menduza,  Uuerra  alii  du«  bermaiuig  dcmcellM  que  tcnia,  para 


512  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

Fire  was  employed  as  a  common  mode  of  torture,  by  way  of  retaliation,  it 
may  be,  for  similar  sufferings  inflicted  on  the  infidel  by  the  Inquisition.  Some- 
times the  punishments  seemed  to  be  contrived  so  as  to  form  a  fiendish  parody 
on  the  exercises  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion.  In  the  town  of  Filix  the 
pastor  was  made  to  take  his  seat  before  the  altar,  with  his  two  sacristans,  one 
on  either  side  of  him.  The  bell  was  rung,  as  if  to  call  the  people  together  to 
worship.  The  sacristans  were  each  provided  with  a  roll  containing  the  names 
of  the  congregation,  which  they  were  required  to  call  over,  as  usual,  before  the 
services,  in  order  to  see  that  no  one  was  absent.  As  each  Morisco  answered 
to  his  name,  he  passed  before  the  priest,  and  dealt  him  a  blow  with  his  fist,  or 
the  women  plucked  his  beard  and  hair,  accompanying  the  act  with  some  bitter 
taunt,  expressive  of  their  mortal  hate.  When  every  one  had  thus  had  the 
opportunity  of  gratifying  his  personal  grudge  against  his  ancient  pastor,  the 
executioner  stepped  forward,  armed  with  a  razor,  with  which  he  scored  the 
face  of  the  ecclesiastic  in  the  detested  form  of  the  cross,  and  then,  beginning 
with  the  fingers,  deliberately  proceeded  to  sever  each  of  the  joints  of  his 
wretched  victim ! zl 

But  it  is  unnecessary  to  shock  the  reader  with  more  of  these  loathsome 
details,  enough  of  which,  have  already  been  given,  not  merely  to  prove  the 
vindictive  temper  of  the  Morisco,  but  to  suggest  the  inference  that  it  could 
only  have  been  a  long  course  of  cruelty  and  oppression  that  stimulated  him  to 
such  an  awful  exhibition  of  it.2*  The  whole  number  of  Christians  who,  in  the 
course  of  a  week,  thus  perished  in  these  massacres, — if  we  are  to  receive  the 
accounts  of  Castilian  writers, — was  not  less  than  three  thousand  ! 23  Considering 
the  social  relations  which  must  to  some  extent  have  been  established  between 
those  who  had  lived  so  long  in  the  neighbourhood  of  one  another,  it  might  be 
thought  that,  on  some  occasions,  sympathy  would  have  been  shown  for  the 
sufferers,  or  that  some  protecting  arm  would  have  been  stretched  out  to  save 
a  friend  or  a  companion  from  the  general  doom.  But  the  nearest  approach  to 
such  an  act  of  humanity  was  given  by  a  Morisco  who  plunged  his  sword  in  the 
body  of  a  Spaniard,  in  order  to  save  him  from  the  lingering  death  that  other- 
wise would  await  him.24 

Of  the  whole  Christian  population  very  few  of  the  men  who  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Moslems  escaped  with  life.  The  women  were  not  always  spared. 

que  le  viesen  morir,  y  en  su  presencia  las  all  who  perished  in  this  persecution.    Those' 

vituperaron  y  maltrataron."     Marmol,  Re-  undoubtedly,  have  a  right  to  it  who  might 

belion  de  Granada,  torn.  1.  p.  316.  have  saved  their  lives  by  renouncing  their 

'•"  "  Llego  un  herege  d  el  con  una  navaja,  y  faith  ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  this  grace 

le  persin6  con   ella,  hendiendole  el  rostro  de  was  extended  to  all ;  and  we  may  well  be- 

alto  abaxo,  y   por  troves ;  y  luego  le  des-  lieve  that  the  Moriscoes  were  stimulated  by 

j ie< law")  coyuntura  por  coyuntnra.  y  miembro  other  motives  besides   those  of  a  religious 

a  miembro."     Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  nature,— such  motives    as  would  naturally 

torn.  i.  p.  348. — Among  other  kinds  of  torture  operate  on  a  conquered  race,  burning  with 

which   they    invented,  says  Mendoza.    they  hatred  of  their  conquerors  and  with  the  thirst 

filled  the  curate  of  Manena  with  gunpowder,  of  vengeance  for  the  manifold  wrongs  which 

and  then  blew  him  up.    Guerra  de  Granada,  they  had  endured, 

p.  60.  '•"  "  Murieron  en  pocos  mas  de  quatro  dias, 

**  Of  all  the  Spanish  historians  no  one  dis-  con  muertes  exquesitas  y  no  imaginados  tor- 
covers  so  insatiable  an  appetite  for  these  nientos.  mas  de  tres  mil  martiros."  Vander- 
horrors  as  Ferreras,  who  has  devoted  nearly  hammen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  70. 
fifty  quarto  pages  to  an  account  of  the  dia-  "  "  Se  adelanto  on  Moro,  que  solia  ser 
bol'ical  cruelties  practised  by  the  Moriscoes  grande  amigo  suyo,  y  baciendose  encontra- 
in  this  persecution, — making  altogether  a  dizo  con  el  en  el  umbral  de  la  puerta,  le  aira- 
momentous  contribution  to  the  annals  of  vesrt  una  espada  por  el  cuerpo,  diciendole: 
Christian  martyrology.  One  may  doubt,  how-  Toma,  amigo,  que  mas  vale  que  te  mate  yo 
ever,  whether  the  Spaniards  are  entirely  justi-  que  otro."  Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada, 
fied  in  claiming  the  crown  of  martyrdom  for  torn.  i.  p.  277. 


MASSACRE  OF  THE  CHRISTIANS.  513 

The  Morisco  women,  especially,  who  had  married  Christian  husbands  and 
embraced  Christianity,  which  they  refused  to  abjure,  became  the  objects  of 
vengeance  to  their  own  sex.  Sad' to  say,  even  the  innocence  and  helplessness 
of  childhood  proved  no  protection  against  the  fury  of  persecution.  The  histo- 
rians record  the  names  of  several  boys,  from  ten  to  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of 
age,  who  were  barbarously  murdered  because  they  would  not  renounce  the 
religion  in  which  they  had  been  nurtured  for  that  of  Mahomet,  If  they  were 
too  young  to  give  a  reason  for  their  faith,  they  had  at  least  learned  the  lesson 
that  to  announce  it  was  a  great  sin ;  and,  when  led  out  like  Iambs  to  the 
slaughter,  their  mothers,  we  are  told,  stifling  the  suggestions  of  natural  affec- 
tion in  obedience  to  a  higher  law,  urged  their  children  not  to  shrink  from  the 
trial,  nor  to  purchase  a  few  years  of  life  at  the  price  of  their  own  souls.**  It 
is  a  matter  of  no  little  giutulation  to  a  Catholic  historian  that  amongst  all 
those  who  perished  in  these  frightful  massacres  there  was  not  one  of  any  age 
or  cither  sex  who  could  be  tempted  to  secure  personal  safety  by  the  sacrifice  of 
religious  convictions.*'  On  the  contrary,  they  employed  the  brief  respite  that 
was  left  them  in  fortifying  one  another's  courage,  and  in  bearing  testimony  to 
the  truth  in  so  earnest  a  manner  that  they  might  almost  seem  to  have  coi'.rted 
the  crown  of  martyrdom.  Yet  among  these  martyrs  there  were  more  thsm 
one,  it  is  admitted,  whose  previous  way  of  life  showed  but  a  dim  perception  of 
the  value  of  that  religion  for  which  they  were  thus  prepared  to  lay  down  their 
lives.*' 

The  chief  blame  of  these  indiscriminate  proscriptions  has  been  laid  on  Aben- 
Farax,  the  famous  dyer  of  Granada,  whose  appetite  for  blood  seems  to  have 
been  as  insatiable  as  that  of  any  wild  beast  in  the  Alpujarras.  In  executing 
the  commission  assigned  to  him  by  Aben-Humeya,  he  was  obliged  to  visit  all 
parts  of  the  country.  Wherever  he  came,  impatient  of  the  slower  movements 
of  his  countrymen  in  the  work  of  destruction,  he  caused  the  prisons  to  be 
emptied  and  the  wretched  inmates  to  be  butchered  before  his  eyes.  At  Ugijar 
he  thus  directed  the  execution  of  no  less  than  two  hundred  and  forty  Christians, 
laymen  and  ecclesiastics.7*  His  progress  through  the  land  was  literally  over 
the  dead  bodies  of  his  victims. 

Fierce  as  he  was,  Aben-Humeya  had  some  touches  of  humanity  in  his 
nature,  which  made  him  revolt  at  the  wholesale  murders  perpetrated  by  his 
lieutenant.  He  was  the  more  indignant  when,  on  hastening  to  Ugijar  to  save 
the  lives  of  some  of  the  captives,  his  friend.-,  he  found  that  he  had  come  too  late, 
for  the  man  of  blood  had  been  there  before  him.  He  soon  after  summoned 
his  officer  into  his  presence,  not  with  the  impolitic  design  of  taxing  him  with 
his  cruelties,  but  to  call  him  to  a  reckoning  for  the  treasure  he  had  pillaged 
from  the  churches  ;  and.  dissatisfied,  or  affecting  to  be  so,  with  his  report,  he 
at  once  deposed  Aben-Farax  from  his  command.  The  ferocious  chief  sub- 
mitted without  a  murmur.  He  descended  into  the  common  file,  and  no  more 
appears  on  the  scene.  He  was  one  of  those  miscreants  who  are  thrown  on 
the  surface  by  the  turmoil  of  a  revolution,  and,  after  floating  there  for  a  while, 
disappear  from  sight,  and  the  wave  of  history  closes  over  them  for  ever. 

**  Ferrcras,  Hist.  d'Kapagne,  torn.  Ix.  p.  cnnningunoBopudoacabar;  aunque  rntrc  los 

617.  iiiartyri/adoH  huvo  mm-lms  IIIIIL'>TI-S.  nifiiiH  y 

*•  "  FUP  gran  tontimonio  de  nuectra  fe  I  de  hombres  <juc   havlan   vtviclo   de*compur*ta- 

compararHG con  ladcl  tieni|io  de  1<«  ApoHtolen;  indite."    Sal.iz.ir  de  Mciuluza,  Moiinrquia  de 

que  en  tantu  numeru  de  gente  conio  murio  a  K*pafla,  toni.  ii.  p.  139. 

manod  do  Infleles  nincuno  liuvo  que  quitiiese  "  "  Muricron  cute  <lla  rn  Uxixar  docirntiwt 

renegar."  Mcndoza,  Guerra  de'lranada,  p.  61.  y  qnarenU  Christianus  clerig.**  y  lepim,   y 

"  "  Todon    p«1uvier<>n   tan  conrtanUn    en  enlre  ell<*  win  canonigo*  dc  aqr.dU  inlosia, 

la  Fe,  que  si   blen  tin-run   cnml>i<iado0  con  que  <•»  colegiaJ."     Maruuil,  Itcbelioii  d.-iiia- 

grandes  riquczas  y  bltne   ii  que  la  dejaacn,  nada,  lom.  i.  p.  297. 


514  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

CHAPTER  III. 

REBELLION  OF  THE   MORISCOES. 

Panic  in  Granada— Muster  of  Troops — Mondejar  takes  the  Field— Bold  Passage  at  Tablate— •' 
Retreat  of  the  Moriscoes — Combat  at  Alfajarali — Perilous  March. — Massacre  at  Jubiles— • 
The  Liberated  Christians. 

1568-1569. 

As  day  after  day  brought  tidings  to  the  people  of  Granada  of  the  barbarities 
perpetrated  in  the  Alpujarras,  the  whole  city  was  filled  with  grief  and  con- 
sternation. The  men  might  be  seen  gathered  together  in  knots  in  the  public 
squares  ;  the  women  ran  about  from  house  to  house,  telling  the  tale  of  horrors, 
which  could  hardly  be  exaggerated  in  the  recital.  They  thronged  to  the 
churches,  where  the  archbishop  and  the  clergy  were  all  day  long  offering  up 
prayers,  to  avert  the  wrath  of  Heaven  from  Granada.  The  places  of  business 
were  abandoned.  The  shops  and  booths  were  closed.1  As  men  called  to  mind 
the  late  irruption  of  Aben-Farax,  they  were  filled  with  apprehensions  that 
the  same  thing  would  be  attempted  again ;  and  rumours  went  abroad 
that  the  mountaineers  were  plotting  another  descent  on  the  city,  and,  with 
the  aid  of  their  countrymen  in  the  Albaicin,  would  soon  deluge  the  streets 
with  the  blood  of  the  Christians.  Under  the  influence  of  these  fears,  some 
took  refuge  in  the  fortress  of  the  Alhambra ;  others  fled  into  the  country. 
Many  kept  watch  during  the  long  night,  while  those  who  withdrew  to  rest 
started  from  their  slumbers  at  the  least  noise,  supposing  it  to  be  the  war-cry 
of  the  Moslem  and  that  the  enemy  was  at  the  gates. 

Nor  was  the  alarm  less  that  was  felt  by  the  Moriscoes  in  the  city,  as  it  was 
certainly  better  founded, — for  the  Moriscoes  were  the  weaker  party  of  the  two. 
They  knew  the  apprehensions  entertained  of  them  by  the  Christians,  and  that 
when  men  have  the  power  to  relieve  themselves  of  their  fears  they  are  not 
apt  to  be  very  scrupulous  as'to  the  means  of  doing  so.  They  were  afraid  to 
venture  into  the  streeets  by  day,  and  at  night  they  barricaded  their  houses 
as  in  a  time  of  siege.*  They  well  knew  that  a  single  act  of  imprudence  on 
their  part,  or  even  the  merest  accident,  might  bring  the  Spaniards  upon  them 
and  lead  to  a  general  massacre.  They  were  like  the  traveller  who  sees  the 
avalanche  trembling  above  him,  which  the  least  jar  of  the  elements,  or  his  own 
unwary  movements,  may  dislodge  from  its  slippery  basis  and  bring  down  in 
ruin  on  his  head.  Thus  the  two  races,  inhabitants  of  the  same  city,  were  like 
two  hostile  camps,  looking  on  each  other  with  watchful  and  malignant  eyes 
and  ready  at  any  moment  to  come  into  deadly  conflict. 

In  this  state  of  things,  the  Moriscoes,  anxious  to  allay  the  apprehensions 
of  the  Spaniards,  were  profuse  in  their  professions  of  loyalty  and  in  their 
assurances  that  there  was  neither  concert  nor  sympathy  between  them  and 
their  countrymen  in  the  Alpujarras.  The  government,  to  give  still  greater- 
confidence  to  the  Christians,  freely  distributed  arms  among  them,  thus  en- 
abling them,  as  far  as  possible,  to  provide  for  their  own  security.  The  inhabi- 
tants enrolled  themselves  in  companies.  The  citizen  was  speedily  converted 

1  "  Estavan  las  casas  yermas  i  tiendas  cer-  peligros."     Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granad  i,  p. 

radas,  suspense  el  trato,  mudadas  las  boras  54. — Mendoza  paints  the   panic  of  Granada 

de  oflcio-  divines  i  humanos  ;  atentos  los  He-  with  the  pencil  of  Tacitus, 

ligiosos  i  octipados  en  oraciones  i  plegarias,  *  Circourt,   Hist,    des    Arabes  d'Espagne, 

como  se  sucls  en  ticmpo  i  punto  de  grandes  torn.  ii.  p.  322. 


MUSTER  OF  TROOPS.  615 

into  the  soldier  ;  and  every  man,  of  whatever  trade  or  profession,— the  me- 
chanic, the  merchant,  the  lawyer, — took  his  turn  of  military  service.  Even  the 
advocates,  when  attending  the  courts  of  justice,  appeared  with  their  weapons 
by  their  side.* 

But  what  contributed  above  all  to  revive  the  public  confidence  was  the  care 
of  the  government  to  strengthen  the  garrison  in  the  Alhambra  by  the  addition 
of  five  hundred  regular  troops.  When,  by  these  various  means,  the  inarqms  of 
Mondejar  saw  that  tranquillity  was  restored  to  the  capital,  he  bestowed  all 
his  thoughts  on  an  expedition  into  the  Alpujarras,  desirous  to  crush  the 
insurrection  in  its  bud,  and  to  rescue  the  unfortunate  captives,  whose  fate 
there  excited'the  most  dismal  apprehensions  among  their  friends  and  relatives 
in  Granada.  He  sent  forth  his  summons  accordingly  to  the  great  lords  and 
the  cities  of  Andalusia  to  furnish  him  at  once  with  their  contingents  for 
carrying  on  the  war.  The  feudal  principle  still  obtained  in  this  quarter, 
requiring  the  several  towns  to  do  military  service  for  their  possessions,  by 
maintaining,  when  called  upon,  a  certain  number  of  troops  in  the  field,  at  their 
own  expense  for  three  months,  and  at  the  joint  expense  of  themselves  and  the 
government  for  six  months  longer.4  The  system  worked  well  enough  in  those 
ancient  times  when  a  season  rarely  passed  without  a  foray  against  the  Moslems. 
But  since  the  fall  of  Granada  a  long  period  of  inactivity  had  followed^  and  the 
citizen,  rarely  summoned  to  the  field,  had  lost  all  the  essential  attributes  of 
the  soldier.  The  usual  term  of  service  was  too  short  to  supply  the  experience 
and  the  discipline  which  he  needed  ;  and,  far  from  entering  on  a  campaign 
with  the  patriotic  or  the  chivalrous  feeling  that  gives  dignity  to  the  profession 
of  arms,  he  brought  with  him  the  mercenary  spirit  of  a  trader,  intent  only  on 
his  personal  gains,  and  eager,  as.  soon  as  he  had  enriched  himself  by  a  lucky 
foray  or  the  sack  of  some  ill-fated  city,  to  return  home,  and  give  place  to 
others,  as  inexperienced  and  possessed  of  as  little  subordination  as  himself.* 

But,  however  deficient  this  civic  militia  might  be  in  tactics,  the  men  were 
well  provided  with  arms  and  military  accoutrements ;  and,  as  the  motley  array 
of  troops  passed  over  the  veja,  they  made  a  gallant  show,  with  their  gay  uni- 
forms and  bright  weapons  glancing  in  the  sun,  while  they  proudly  displayed  the 
ancient  banners  of  their  cities,  which  had  waved  over  many  a  field  of  battle 
against  the  infidel.* 

But  no  part  of  the  warlike  spectacle  was  so  brilliant  as  that  afforded  by  the 
chivalry  of  the  country,— the  nobles  and  cavaliers,  who,  with  their  retainers 
and  household  troops,  had  taken  the  field  with  as  much  alacritv  on  the  present 
occasion  as  their  fathers  had  ever  shown  when  roused  by  the  cry  that  the 
enemy  was  over  the  borders.'  They  were  much  inferior  in  numbers  to  the 
militia  of  the  towns.  But  inferiority  of  numbers  was  more  than  compensated 

•  "  En    on  pnnto  se  mndaron   todos  los  «rto  no    blen   dlsriplinada ;    mante  nida  del 
oflclos  y  trutos  «-n  soldad'-sca.  Unto  que  los  robo,  i  a  trueco  de  alcunzar  o  conservar  eirte 
relatoreo,  secrelariof,   letrados,  prucuradores  much*   lilxTtad,    poca    verguvnia,    i    menus 
de  la  Audiencla  entraban  con  enpadaa  en  los  bonra."     Ibid.,  p.  103. 

estradoH,  y  no  dexaban  de  paresc<T  muy  blen  *  "  Toda   goiile   lucida  y  bion  arreada   il 

en  aquclla  coyuntur.i."     Marmol,   Kebelion  punto  di-  guerra,  que  cierto  reprenentahaii  U 

de  Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  358.  pomp.-i  y  n»bloza  de  sun  ciudade.-."     Maranol, 

•  "  Servian  tres   mesea  pagado*   por   BUS  Rebelioii  de  Granada,  torn.  1.  p.  396. 
pueblos  enteramente.  1  seis  in.-ses  ~tel»nte  ,  ..  Mucho«  caplUnos  Tileries, 
pag.ivan  los  pueblos  la  mitad,  i  otra  m.tad  el  much.*  lucid,*  *.ld».J.«, 
feel."     Mendoza.  (Juerra  de  Granada,  p.  53.  ricaa  bmdfrM  telKii,lM, 

•  Mcndoza,  with  a  few  vigorous   touches.  gu  e^,,,,,,,,,.  dorado." 

has  sketched,   or  rather  sculptured  In   bold  Hita,  Quenas  de  Granada, 

relief,  the  rude  and  rapacious  character  of  the         .  tom  jj  _  61_ 

Andalaslan    soldiery :    ••  Mai   pagada  1  por 


516  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

by  excellence  of  discipline,  by  their  perfect  appointments,  and  by  that  chival- 
rous feeling  which  made  them  discard  every  mercenary  consideration  in  the 
pursuit  of  glory.  Such  was  the  feeling  of  Luis  Paer  de  Castillego,  the  ancient 
regidor  of  Cordova.  When  offered  an  independent  command,  with  the  emolu- 
ments annexed  to  it,  he  proudly  replied, "  I  want  neither  rank  nor  pay.  I,  my 
sons,  my  kindred,  my  whole  house,  will  always  be  found  ready  to  serve  our 
God  and  our  king.  It  is  the  title  by  which  we  hold  our  inheritance  and  our 
patent  of  nobility."  * 

With  such  loyal  and  high-mettled  cavaliers  to  support  him,  Mondejar  could 
not  feel  doubtful  of  the  success  of  his  arms.  They  iiad,  however,  already  met 
with  one  reverse;  and  he  received  tidings  that  his  advance-guard,  sent  to 
occupy  a  strong  pass  that  led  into  the  mountains,  had  been  driven  from  its 
position  and  had  sustained  something  like  a  defeat.  This  would  have  been 
still  more  decisive  had  it  not  been  for  the  courage  of  certain  ecclesiastics,  eight 
in  number, — four  of  them  Franciscans  and  four  of  the  Society  of  Jesus, — who, 
as  the  troops  gave  way,  threw  themselves  into  the  thick  of  the  fight  and  by 
their  example  shamed  the  soldiers  into  making  a  more  determined  resistance. 
The  present  war  took  the  form  of  a  religious  war ;  and  many  a  valiant  church- 
man, armed  with  sword  and  crucifix,  bore  his  part  in  it  as  in  a  crusade. 

Hastening  his  preparations,  the  captain-general,  without  waiting  for  further 
reinforcements,  marched  out  of  Granada  on  the  second  of  January,  1569,  at 
the  head  of  a  small  body,  which  did  not  exceed  in  all  two  thousand  foot  and 
four  hundred  horse.  He  was  speedily  joined  by  levies  from  the  neighbouring 
towns, — from  Jaen,  Loja,  Alhama,  Antequera,  and  other  places. — which  in  a 
few  days  swelled  his  little  army  to  double  its  original  size.  The  capital  he 
left  in  the  hands  of  his  son,  the  count  of  Tendilla,  a  man  of  less  discretion 
than  his  father,  of  a  sterner  and  more  impatient  temper,  and  one  who  had 
little  sympathy  for  the  Morisco.  By  his  directions,  the  peasantry  of  the  verja 
were  required  to  supply  the  army  with  twenty  thousand  pounds  of  bread 
daily.'  The  additional  troops  stationed  in  the  city,  as  well  as  those  who  met 
there,  as  in  a  place  of  rendezvous,  on  their  way  to  the  sierra,  were  all  quartered 
on  the  inhabitants  of  the  Albaicin,  where  they  freely  indulged  in  the  usual 
habits  of  military  license.  The  Moriscoes  still  retained  much  of  that  jealous 
sensibility  which  leads  the  native?  of  the  East  to  seclude  their  wives  and 
daughters  from  the  eye  of  the  stranger.  It  was  in  vain,  however,  that  they 
urged  their  complaints  in  the  most  respectful  and  deprecatory  terms  before 
the  governor.  The  haughty  Spaniard  only  answered  them  with  a  stern  rebuke, 
which  made  the  Moriscoes  too  late  repent  that  they  had  not  profited  by  the 
opportunity  offered  them  by  Aben-Farax  of  regaining  their  independence.10 

Leaving  Granada,  the  captain-general  took  the  most  direct  route,  leading 
along  the  western  slant  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  that  mountain-range  which,  with 
its  frosty  peaks  glistening  in  the  sun  like  palisades  of  silver,  fences  round  the 
city  on  the  south,  and  screens  it  in  the  summer  from  the  scorching  winds  of 
Africa.  Thence  he  rapidly  descended  into  the  beautiful  vale  of  Lecrin,  which 
spreads  out,  like  a  gay  carpet  embroidered  with  many  a  wild  flower,  to  the 

"  Circourt,    Hist,    des   Arabes  d'Espagne,  cnidado  de  ll^var  diez  mil  panes  amasados  de 

torn.  ii.  p.  326. — Seville  alone  furnished  two  u  dos  libra1*  al  canipo  el  dia.  que  le  tooase  de 

thousand  troops,  with  one  of  the  most  illus-  la  semana."    Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada, 

trlous  cavaliers  of  the  city  at  their  head.  torn.  i.  p.  404. 

They  did  not  arrive,   however,   till  a  later  '"  "  Paso  este  negocio  tan  adelante,  qne 

period  of  the  war.     See  Zufiiga,  Annales  de  muchos  Moriscos   afrentados  y  gastados   se 

Sevilla  (Madrid,  1677,  fol.),  p.  533.  arrepintieron,  por  no  haber  tornado  las  annas 

*  "Reparti6  los  Ingaresde  la  vega  en  siete  quando  Abenfarax  los  llamaba."     Ibid.,  p. 

jiartidos,  y  mandoles,  que  cada  uno  tuvieSe  407. 


THE  PASS  OF  TABLATE.  617 

verge  of  the  Alpujarras.  It  was  now,  however,  the  dead  of  winter,  when  the 
bright  colouring  of  the  landscape,  even  in  this  favoured  region,  watered  as  it 
was  by  numerous  fountains  and  running  streams,  had  faded  into  the  sombre 
tints  more  in  harmony  with  the  rude  scenes  on  which  the  Spaniards  were 
about  to  enter. 

Halting  a  night  at  Padul  to  refresh  his  troops,  Mondejar  pressed  forward 
to  Durcal,  which  he  reached  barely  in  time  to  save  his  advance-guard  from  a 
more  shameful  discomfiture  than  it  had  before  experienced  ;  for  the  enemy, 
pressing  it  on  all  sides,  was  in  possession  of  the  principal  avenues  to  the  town. 
On  the  approach  of  the  main  body  of  the  Spaniards,  however,  he  made  a 
hasty  retreat  and  established  himself  in  a  strong  position  at  the  pass  of 
Tabfate.  The  place  was  defended  by  a  carranca,  or  ravine,  not  formidable 
from  its  width,  but  its  rocky  sides  swept  sheer  down  to  a  depth  that  made  the 
brain  of  the  traveller  giddy  as  he  looked  into  the  frightful  abyss.  The  chasm 
extended  at  least  eight  leagues  in  length,  thus  serving,  like  a  gigantic  ditch 
scooped  out  by  the  hand  of  Nature,  to  attbrd  protection  to  the  beautiful  valley 
against  the  inroads  of  the  fierce  tribes  of  the  mountains. 

Across  this  gulf  a  frail  wooden  bridge  had  been  constructed,  forming  the 
only  means  of  access  from  this  quarter  to  the  country  of  the  Alpujarras.  But 
this  structure  was  now  nearly  demolished  by  the  Moriscoes,  who  had  taken  up 
the  floor  and  removed  most  of  the  supports,  till  the  passage  of  the  tottering 
fabric  could  not  safely  be  attempted  by  a  single  individual,  much  less  by  an 
army.11  That  they  did  not  destroy  the  bridge  altogether,  probably  arose  from 
their  desire  to  re-establish,  as  soon  as  possible,  their  communications  with 
their  countrymen  in  the  valley. 

Meanwhile  the  Moslems  had  taken  up  a  position  which  commanded  the 
farther  end  of  the  bridge,  where  they  calmly  awaited  the  approach  of  the 
Spaniards.  Their  army,  which  greatly  fluctuated  in  its  numbers  at  different 
periods  of  the  campaign,  was  a  miscellaneous  body,  ill  disciplined  and  worse 
armed.  Some  of  the  men  carried  fire-arms,  some  cross-bows  ;  others  had  only 
slings  or  javelins,  or  even  sharp-pointed  stakes, — any  weapon,  in  short,  how- 
ever rude,  which  they  had  contrived  to  secrete  from  the  Spanish  officials 
charged  with  enforcing  the  laws  for  disarming  the  Moriscoes.  But  they  were 
a  bold  and  independent  race,  inured  to  a  life  of  peril  and  privation  ;  and, 
however  inferior  to  the  Christians  in  other  respects,  they  had  one  obvious 
advantage  in  their  familiarity  with  the  mountain-wilds  in  which  they  had  been 
nurtured  from  infancy. 

As  the  Spaniards  approached  the  ravine,  they  were  saluted  by  the  enemy, 
from  the  other  side,  with  a  shower  of  balls,  stones,  and  arrows,  which,  failing 
at  random,  did  little  mischief.  But  as  soon  as  the  columns  of  the  Christians 
reached  the  brow  of  the  barranca  and  formed  into  line,  they  opened  a  much 
more  effective  fire  on  their  adversaries  ;  and  when  the  heavy  guns  with  which 
Mendoza  was  provided  were  got  into  position,  they  did  such  execution  on  the 
enemy  that  he  thought  it  prudent  to  abandon  the  bridge  and  take  post  behind 
a  rising  ground,  which  screened  him  from  the  fire. 

All  thoughts  were  now  turned  on  the  mode  of  crossing  t!io  ravine ;  and 
many  a  look  of  blank  disniay  was  turned  on  the  dilapidated  bridge,  which, 
like  a  spider's  web,  trembling  in  every  breeze,  was  stretched  across  the  formi- 
dable chasm.  No  one  was  bold  enough  to  venture  on  this  pass  of  peril.  At 
length  a  Franciscan  monk,  named  Christoval  de  Molina,  ottered  himself  for 

"  "Apenag  podia  Ir  por  ella  nn  hombre  nera.  que  *1  onrfrnw  ma»  de  una  persona, 
suelto;  y  aun  cute  poco  paso,  Ic  trnlari  ilt-«-  fnene  afoaxo."  Marniul,  Rt  be  lion  deUiaiuitU, 
cavado  y  solapado  pur  loa  ciini.-ni.  »,  de  ma-  torn.  1.  p.  4U9. 


CIS  REBELLION  OP  THE  MORISCOE8. 

the  emprise.  It  was  again  an  ecclesiastic  who  was  to  lead  the  way  in  the  path 
of  danger.  Slinging  his  shield  across  his  back,  with  his  robe  tucked  closely 
around  him,  grasping  a  crucifix  in  his  left  hand,  and  with  his  right  brandishing 
his  sword,  the  valiant  friar  set  his  foot  upon  the  bridge.12  All  eyes  were 
fastened  upon  him,  as,  invoking  the  name  of  Jesus,  he  went  courageously  but 
cautiously  forward,  picking  his  way  along  the  skeleton  fabric,  which  trembled 
under  his  weight,  as  if  about  to  fall  in  pieces  and  precipitate  him  into  the  gnlf 
below.  But  he  was  not  so  to  perish  ;  and  his  safe  arrival  on  the  farther  side 
was  greeted  with  the  shouts  of  the  soldiery,  who,  ashamed  of  their  hesitation, 
now  pressed  forward  to  follow  in  his  footsteps. 

The  first  who  ventured  had  the  same  good  fortune  as  his  predecessor.  The 
second,  missing  his  step  or  becoming  dizzy,  lost  his  foothold,  and,  tumbling 
headlong,  was  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  bottom  of  the  ravine.  One  after 
another,  the  soldiers  followed,  and  with  fewer  casualties  than  might  have  been 
expected  from  the  perilous  nature  of  the  passage.  During  all  this  time  they 
experienced  no  molestation  from  the  enemy,  intimidated,  perhaps,  by  the 
unexpected  audacity  of  the  Spaniards,  and  not  caring  to  come  within  the  range 
of  the  deadly  fire  of  their  artillery.  No  sooner  had  the  arquebusiers  crossed  in 
sufficient  strength  than  Mondejar,  putting  himself  at  their  head,  led  them 
against  the  Moslems.  He  was  received  with  a  spirited  volley,  which  had 
wellnigh  proved  fatal  to  him  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  his  good  cuirass,  that 
turned  the  ball  of  an  arquebuse,  his  campaign  would  have  been  brought  to  a 
close  at  its  commencement.  The  skirmish  lasted  but  a  short  time,  as  the 
Moriscoes,  already  disheartened  by  the  success  of  the  assailants,  or  in  obe- 
dience to  the  plan  of  operations  marked  out  by  their  leader,  abandoned  their 
position  and  drew  off'  rapidly  towards  the  mountains.  It  was  the  intention  of 
Aben-Humeya,  as  already  noticed,  to  entangle  his  enemies  in  the  defiles  of  the 
sierra,  where,  independently  of  the  advantage  he  possessed  from  a  knowledge 
of  the  country,  the  rugged  character  of  the  ground,  he  conceived,  would  make 
it  impracticable  for  both  cavalry -and  artillery,  with  neither  of  which  he  was 
provided.18 

The  Spanish  commander,  resuming  his  former  station,  employed  the  night 
in  restoring  the  bridge,  on  which  his  men  laboured  to  such  purpose  that  by 
morning  it  was  in  a  condition  for  both  his  horse  and  his  heavy  guns  to  cross 
in  safety.  Meanwhile  he  received  tidings  that  a  body  of  a  hundred  and  eighty 
Spaniards,  in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Orgiba,  who  had  thrown  themselves 
into  the  tower  of  the  church  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  insurrection,  were  still 
holding  their  position,  and  anxiously  looking  for  succour  from  their  country- 
men. Pushing  forward,  therefore,  without  loss  of  time,  he  resumed  his  march 
across  the  valley,  which  was  here  defended  on  either  side  by  rugged  hills,  that, 
growing  bolder  as  he  advanced,  announced  his  entrance  into  the  gorges  of  the 

11  "  Mas  un  bendito  frayle  de  la  orden  del  romances,  or    ballads,   with    which   lie    has 

serafico   padre  San   Francisco,   Hamado  fray  plentifully  besprinkled  the  second  volume  of 

Christoval  de  Molina,  con  un  crucifixo  en  la  his  work,  and  which  present  a  sorry  contrast 

niano  izquierda,  y  la  espada  desnuda  en  la  to    the    ballads    in    the    preceding    volume, 

derecha,  los  habitos  cogidos  en  la  cinta,  y  una  These,  which  form  part  of  the  poi  ular  min- 

rodela  echada  a   las  espaldas,   invocando  el  strelsy  of  an  early  age,  have  all  the  raciness 

poderoso  nombre  de  Jesus,  I<eg6  al  peligroso  and  flavour  that  belong  to  the  native  wild 

paso,  y  Be  meti6  determinadamente  por  el."  flower  of  the  soil.     The  ballads  in  the  second 

Marmol,  Rebeiion  de  Granada,  torn.  1.  p.  410.  volume  are  probaMy  the  work  of  Hita  him- 

la  Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  self, — poor  imitations  of  the    antique,   and 

41 0,  et  seq.— Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  pp.  proving  that,  if  his  rich  and  redundant  prose 

67,  68.— Herrera,  Historia  general,  torn.  i.  p.  is  akin  to  poetry,  his  poetry  is  still  nearer 

736.  —  Hita   has   commemor.tted    the    bold  allied  to  prose, 
pass  ige  of  the  bridge  at  Tablate  in  one  of  the 


RETREAT  OF  THE  MORISCOES.  519 

A'pnjarras.  The  weather  was  tempestuous.  The  roads  were  rendered  worse 
than  usual  by  the  heavy  rains  and  by  the  torrents  that  descended  from  the 
hills.  The  Spaniards,  moreover,  suffered  much  from  straggling  parties  of  the 
enemy,  who  had  possession  of  the  heights,  whence  they  roiled  down  huge  rocks 
and  nurled  missiles  of  every  kind  on  the  heads  of  the  invaders.  To  rid  him- 
self of  this  annoyance,  Mondejar  ordered  detachments  of  horse — one  of  them 
under  the  command  of  his  son,  Don  Antonio  de  Mendoza — to  scour  the  crests 
of  the  hills  and  dislodge  the  skirmishers.  Pioneers  were  sent  in  advance,  to 
level  the  ground  and  render  it  practicable  for  the  cavalry.  The  service  was 
admirably  performed ;  and  the  mountaineers,  little  acquainted  with  the  horse, 
which  they  seem  to  have  held  in  as  much  terror  as  did  the  ancient  Mexicans, 
were  so  astounded  by  seeing  the  light-footed  Andalusiau  steed  scaling  the 
rough  sides  of  the  sierra,  along  paths  where  the  sportsman  would  hardly  ven- 
ture, that,  without  waiting  for  the  charge,  they  speedily  quitted  the  ground 
and  fell  back  on  the  main  body  of  their  army. 

This  was  posted  at  Lanjaron,  a  place  but  a  few  miles  off,  where  the  Moris- 
coes  had  profited  by  a  gentle  eminence  that  commanded  a  narrow  defile,  to 
throw  up  a  breastwork  of  stone  and  earth,  behind  which  they  were  intrenched, 
prepared,  as  it  would  seem,  to  give  battle  to  the  Spaniards. 

The  daylight  had  begun  to  fade  as  the  latter  drew  near  the  enemy's  encamp- 
ment ;  and,  as  he  was  unacquainted  with  the  ground,  Mondejar  resolved  to 
postpone  his  attack  till  the  following  morning.  The  night  set  in  dark  and 
threatening.  But  a  hundred  watchfires  blazing  on  the  hill-tops  illumined  the 
sky  and  sent  a  feeble  radiance  into  the  gloom  of  the  valley.  All  night  long 
the  wild  notes  of  the  musical  instruments  peculiar  to  the  Aloors,  mingling  with 
their  shrill  war-cries,  sounded  in  the  ears  of  the  Christians,  keeping  them 
under  arms  and  apprehensive  every  moment  of  an  attack.14  But  a  night- 
attack  was  contrary  to  the  usual  tactics  of  the  Moors.  Nor,  as  it  appeared, 
did  they  intend  to  join  battle  with  the  Spaniards  at  all  in  this  place.  At  least, 
if  such  nad  been  their  design,  they  changed  it.  For  at  break  of  day,  to  the 
surprise  of  the  Spaniards,  no  vestige  was  to  be  seen  of  the  Moriscoes,  who, 
abandoning  their  position,  had  taken  flight,  like  their  own  birds  of  prey,  into 
the  depths  of  the  mountains. 

Mondejar,  not  sorry  to  be  spared  the  delay  which  an  encounter  must  have 
caused  him  at  a  time  when  every  moment  was  so  precious,  now  rapidly  pushed 
forward  to  Orgiba,  where  he  happily  arrived  in  season  to  relieve  the  garrison, 
reduced  almost  to  the  last  extremity,  and  to  put  to  flight  the  rabble  who 
besieged  it. 

In  the  fulness  of  their  hearts,  and  with  the  tears  streaming  from  their  eyes, 
the  poor  prisoners  came  forth  from  their  fortress  to  embrace  the  deliverers  who 
had  rescued  them  from  the  most  terrible  of  deaths.  Their  apprehensions  of 
such  a  fate  had  alone  nerved  their  souls  to  so  long  and  heroic  a  resistance. 
Yet  they  must  have  sunk  ere  this  from  famine,  had  it  not  been  for  their  politic 
precaution  of  taking  with  them  into  the  tower  several  of  the  Morisco  children, 
whose  parents  secretly  supplied  them  with  food,  which  served  as  the  means  of 
subsistence — scanty  though  it  was — for  the  garrison.  But,  as  the  latter  came 
forth  into  view,  their  wasted  forms  and  famine-stricken  visages  told  a  tale  of 
woe  that  would  have  softened  a  heart  of  tliut.'5 

14  MEotuvo  alii  aquella  nocbe  ii  vista  de  Ion  Christian"*,  que  con  RrandMmo  recato  e*tu- 

enrmfgoft,  que  teniendo  ocupado  el  pano  con  vienm  tudo*  con   las  aruia-i  en  las  nmnos." 

grande*  fuegoa  por  aquellna  cerro*,  no  li.iciau  Mamml,  Reb<-lion  de  liranada,  torn  i.  p.  413. 

aiiio  tocar  sua  atabalejux,  dulzaynaa  y  xabfca3,  "  M.innol,  Itelx-llon  de  Uraiiaila,  torn.  I.  p. 

liadeiiUo  algazarus  para  ateuiunzar  nuestros  414.— Herrera.  HUtoria  gtner.il,  torn.  1.  p.  737. 


520  REBELLION  OP  THE  MORTSCOES. 

The  situation  of  Orgiba  pointed  it  out  as  suitable  for  a  fortified  post,  to 
cover  the  retreat  of  the  ar.ny,  if  necessary,  and  to  protect  the  convoys  of 
supplies  to  be  regularly  forwarded  from  Granada.  Leaving  a  small  garrison 
there,  the  captain-general,  without  longer  delay,  resumed  his  pursuit  of  the 
enemy. 

Aben-IIumeya  had  retreated  into  Poqueira,  a  nigged  district  of  the  Alpu- 
jarras.  Here  he  had  posted  himself,  with  an  army  amounting  to  more  than 
double  its  former  numbers,  at  the  extremity  of  a  dangerous  defile,  called  the 
Pass  of  Alfajarali.  Behind  lay  the  town  of  Bubion,  the  capital  of  the  district, 
in  which,  considering  it  as  a  place  of  safety,  many  of  the  wealthier  Moriscoes 
had  deposited  their  women  and  their  treasures. 

Mondejar's  line  of  march  now  took  him  into  the  heart  of  the  wildest  regions 
of  the  Alpujarras,  where  the  scenery  assumed  a  character  of  sublimity  very 
different  from  what  he  had  met  with  in  the  lower  levels  of  the  country.  Here 
mountain  rose  beyond  mountain,  till  their  hoary  heads,  soaring  above  the 
clouds,  entered  far  into  the  region  of  eternal  snow.  The  scene  was  as  gloomy 
as  it  was  grand.  Instead  of  the  wide- spreading  woods  that  usually  hang 
round  the  skirts  of  lofty  mountains,  covering  up  their  nakedness  from  the  eye, 
nothing  here  was  to  be  seen  but  masses  of  shattered  rock,  b'ack  as  if  scathed 
by  volcanic  tires,  and  heaped  one  upon  another  in  a  sort  of  wild  confusion,  as 
if  some  tremendous  convulsion  of  nature  had  torn  the  hills  from  their  founda- 
tions and  thrown  them  into  primitive  chaos.  Yet  the  industry  of  the  Moris- 
coes  had  contrived  to  relieve  the  savage  features  of  the  landscape,  by  scooping 
out  terraces  wherever  the  rocky  soil  allowed  it,  and  raising  there  the  vine  and 
other  plants,  in  bright  patches  of  variegated  culture,  that  bung  like  a  garland 
round  the  gaunt  and  swarthy  sierra. 

The  temperature  was  now  greatly  changed  from  what  the  array  had  expe- 
rienced in  the  valley.  The  wind,  sweeping  down  the  icy  sides  of  the  mountains, 
found  its  way  through  the  harness  of  the  cavaliers  and  the  light  covering  of 
the  soldiers,  benumbing  their  limbs  and  piercing  them  to  the  very  bone.  Great 
difficulty  was  experienced  in  dragging  the  cannon  up  the  steep  heights,  and 
along  roads  ana  passes  which,  however  easily  traversed  by  the  light-footed 
mountaineer,  were  but  ill  suited  to  the  movements  of  an  army  clad  in  the  heavy 
panoply  of  war. 

The  march  was  conducted  in  perfect  order,  the  arquebusiers  occupying  the 
van,  and  the  cavalry  riding  on  either  flank,  while  detachments  of  infantry,  the 
main  body  of  which  occupied  the  centre,  were  thrown  out  to  the  right  and  left, 
on  the  higher  grounds  along  the  route  of  the  army  to  save  it  from  annoyance 
from  the  mountaineers. 

On  the  thirteenth  of  January,  Mondejar  entered  the  narrow  defile  of  Alfa- 
jarali, at  the  farther  end  of  which  the  motley  multitude  that  had  gathered 
round  the  standard  of  Aben-Humeya  were  already  drawn  up  in  battle-array. 
His  right  wing  rested  on  the  bold  side  of  the  sierra.  The  left  was  defended 
by  a  deep  ravine,  and  his  position  was  strengthened  by  more  than  one  ambus- 
cade, for  which  the  nature  of  the  ground  was  eminently  favourable.1"  Indeed, 
ambushes  and  surprises  formed  part  of  the  regular  strategy  of  the  Moorish 
warrior,  who  lost  heart  if  he  failed  in  these, — like  the  lion,  who,  if  balked  in 
the  first  spring  upon  his  prey,  is  said  rarely  to  attempt  another. 

Putting  these  wily  tactics  into  practice,  the  Morisco  chief,  as  soon  as  the 

— Bleda,  Cronica  de  Ksp  ifia,  p.   684. — Men-  ceros  1  vallesteros,  df-mis  desto  otra  embos- 

doza,  (Juerra  de  Granada,  pp.  69, 70. — Ferreras,  cada  en  lo  liondo  del  barranco  de  mucho  mayor 

Hist.  d'Espagne,  torn.  x.  p.  17.  numero    <1e    gente."      Menduza,   Guerra    de 

16  "  A  l.i  mano  derccha  cubiertos  con  un  Granada,  torn,  i.  p.  71. 
sierro,  bavia  emboscados  quinieutos  arcabu- 


COMBAT  AT  ALFAJARALI.  521 

Spaniards  were  fairly  entangled  in  the  defile,  without  waiting  for  them  to  come 
into  order  of  battle,  gave  the  signal ;  and  his  men,  starting  up  from  glen, 
thicket,  and  ravine,  or  bursting  down  the  hill-sides  like  their  own  winter- 
torrents,  fell  at  once  on  the  Christians, — front,  flank,  and  rear, — assailing 
them  on  every  quarter.17  Astounded  by  the  fiery  suddenness  of  the  assault, 
the  rear-guara  retreated  on  the  centre,  while  the  arquebusiers  in  the  van  were 
thrown  into  still  greater  disorder.  For  a  few  moments  it  seemed  as  if  the 
panic  would  become  general.  But  the  voice  of  the  leader  was  heard  above  the 
tumult,  and  by  his  prompt  and  sagacious  measures  he  fortunately  succeeded 
in  restoring  order  and  reviving  the  confidence  of  his  men.  He  detached  one 
body  of  cavalry,  under  his  son-in-law,  to  the  support  of  the  rear,  and  another 
to  the  front  under  the  command  of  his  son,  Antonio  de  Mendoza.  Both 
excuted  their  commissions  with  spirit ;  and  Mendoza,  outstripping  his  com- 
panions in  the  haste  with  which  he  galloped  to  the  front,  threw  himself  into 
the  thickest  of  the  fight,  where  he  was  struck  from  his  horse  by  a  heavy  stone, 
and  was  speedily  surrounded  by  the  enemy,  from  whose  grasp  he  was  with 
difficulty,  and  not  till  after  much  hard  fighting,  rescued  by  his  companions. 
His  friend,  Don  Alouso  Portocarrero,  the  scion  of  a  noble  house  in  Andalusia, 
whose  sons  had  always  claimed  the  front  of  battle  against  the  infidel,  was  twice 
wounded  by  poisoned  arrows  ;  for  the  Moors  of  the  Alpujarras  tipped  their 
weapons  with  a  deadly  poison  distilled  from  a  weed  that  grew  wild  among  the 
mountains.18 

A  fierce  straggle  now  ensued.  For  the  Moriscp  was  spurred  on  by  hate  and 
the  recollection  of  a  thousand  wrongs.  Ill  provided  with  weapons  for  attack, 
and  destitute  of  defensive  armour,  he  exposed  himself  to  the  hottest  of  his 
enemy's  tire,  and  endeavoured  to  drag  the  horsemen  from  their  saddles,  while 
stones  and  arrows,  with  which  some  musket-balls  were  intermingled,  fell  like 
rain  on  the  well-tempered  harness  of  the  Andalusian  knights.  The  latter,  now 
fully  aroused,  plunged  boldly  into  the  thickest  of  the  Moorish  multitude, 
trampling  them  under  foot,  and  hewing  them  down,  right  and  left,  with  their 
sharp  blades.  The  arquebusiers,  at  the  same  time,  delivered  a  well-directed 
fire  on  the  flank  of  tne  Moriscoes,  who,  after  a  brave  struggle  of  an  hour's 
duration,  in  which  they  were  baffled  on  every  quarter,  quitted  the  field,  covered 
with  their  slain,  as  precipitately  as  they  had  entered  it,  and,  vanishing  among 
the  mountains,  were  soon  far  beyond  pursuit.'* 

From  the  field  of  battle  Mondejar  marched  at  once  upon  Bubion,  the 
capital  of  the  district,  now  left  wholly  unprotected  by  the  Moslems.  Yet 
many  of  their  wives  and  daughters  remained  in  it ;  and  what  rejoiced  the 
heart  of  Mondejar  more  than  all  was  the  liberation  of  a  hundred  and  eighty 
Christian  women,  who  came  forth,  frantic  with  joy  and  gratitude,  to  embrace 
the  knees  of  their  deliverers.  They  had  many  a  tale  of  horror  to  tell  their 
countrymen,  who  had  now  rescued  them  from  a  fate  worse  than  that  of  death 
itself;  for  arrangements  had  been  made,  it  was  said,  to  send  away  tho  e 
whose  persons  offered  the  greate>t  attractions,  to  swell  the  harems  of  the 

"  "Ellos    quamlo  pensaron   que    nue«tra  drop  mingl'd  with   the  Mood  flowing  from 

gente  Iva  cans.ida  acomctieron  p»r  la  frente,  a  wound  'lh<-  virus  would  ascend  the  fitreain 

por  el  costado,  1  por  lit  retaguardla.  todo  a  un  and  diffuse   HM  It'  over   the  whole  pyxieni  ' 

tit-mpo;   de  manera  que   quasi   una  hora  8e  Quince-juice   was  paid    to   furnish   the   1" -t 

peleo  cuii  ellos  a  Uxlas  parte*  1  a  las  o.-pald  <B,  antidote.     Mendoza,  Uuerra  do  Granada,  torn, 

no  "In  Igualdad  I  pellgro."     Meudoza,  Guerra  i.  pp.  73.  74. 
de  Granada,  tom.  f.  ubl  -upra.  "  Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  tom.  I  pp. 

"  This   pui.oon    was   extracted    from    the  71-74.  — Cabrera,    Killpe  fv-gun  to,   p.   55t  — 

aconite,  or  wolfVbane,  that  grew  rife  among  Marmol.    Itohellon  de  Granada,  tom.   1.  pp. 

tli"   Alpujarras.     It  wan  of  go  malignant  4IO-4IX. — Herrera.  Hlmortii  general,  tom.  i  p. 

nature  that  the  historian  assuies  us  that  if  a  737. — Bleda,  Or  ulca  de  Eftptina,  p.  684. 


522  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

fierce  Barbary  princes  in  alliance  with  the  Moriscoes.  The  town  afforded  a 
rich  booty  to  the  victorious  troops,  in  gold,  silver,  and  jewels,  together  with 
the  finest  stuffs,  especially  of  silk,  for  the  manufacture  of  which  the  people  of 
the  country  were  celebrated.  As  the  Spanish  commander,  unwilling  to  be 
encumbered  with  unnecessary  baggage,  had  made  no  provision  for  transport- 
ing the  more  bulky  articles,  the  greater  part  of  them,  in  the  usual  extermi- 
nating spirit  of  war,  \\as  consigned  to  the  flames.20  The  soldiers  would 
willingly  have  appropriated  to  themselves  the  Moorish  women  whom  they 
found  in  the  place,  regarding  them  as  the  spoils  of  victory  ;  but  the  marquis, 
greatly  to  the  disgust  of  his  followers,  humanely  interfered  for  their  pro- 
tection. 

Mondejar  now  learned  that  Aben-Humeva,  gathering  the  wreck  of  his 
forces  about  him,  had  taken  the  route  to  Jubiles, — a  place  situated  in  the 
wildest  part  of  the  country,  where  there  was  a  fortress  of  much  strength,  in 
which  he  proposed  to  make  a  final  stand  against  his  enemies.  Desirous  to 
follow  up  the  blow  before  the  enemy  had  time  to  recover  from  its  effects, 
Mondejar  resumed  his  march.  He  had  not  advanced  many  leagues  before  he 
reached  Pitres,  the  principal  town  in  the  district  of  Ferreiras.  It  was  a  place 
of  some  importance,  and  was  rich  in  the  commodities  usually  found  in  the 
great  Moorish  towns,  where  the  more  wealthy  of  the  inhabitants  rivalled 
their  brethren  of  Granada  in  their  taste  for  sumptuous  dress  and  in  the  costly 
decorations  of  their  houses. 

The  conquerors  had  here  the  satisfaction  of  releasing  a  hundred  and  fifty 
of  their  poor  countrywomen  from  the  captivity  in  which  they  had  been  held, 
after  witnessing  the  massacre  of  their  friends  and  relatives.  The  place  was 
given  up  to  pillage  ;  but  the  marquis,  true  to  his  principles,  notwithstanding 
the  murmurs,  and  even  menaces,  of  his  soldiers,  would  allow  no  injury  to  be 
done  to  the  Moorish  women  who  remained  in  it.  In  this  he  acted  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  dictates  of  sound  policy,  no  less  than  of  humanity,  which  indeed, 
happily  for  mankind,  can  never  be  dissevered  from  each  other.  He  had  no 
desire  to  push  the  war  to  extremities,  or  to  exterminate  a  race  whose  ingenuity 
and  industry  were  a  fruitful  source  of  revenue  to  the  country.  He  wished, 
therefore,  to  leave  the  door  of  reconciliation  still  open  ;  and,  while  he  carried 
fire  and  sword  into  the  enemy's  territory,  he  held  out  the  prospect  of  grace 
to  those  who  were  willing  to  submit  and  return  to  their  allegiance. 

The  route  of  the  army  lay  through  a  wild  and  desolate  region,  which,  from 
its  great  elevation,  was  cool  even  in  midsummer,  and  which  now,  in  the  month 
of  January,  wore  the  dreaiy  aspect  of  a  polar  winter.  The  snow,  which  never 
melted  on  the  highest  peaks  of  the  mountains,  lay  heavily  on  their  broad 
shoulders,  and,  sweeping  far  down  their  sides,  covered  up  the  path  of  the 
Spaniards.  It  was  with  no  little  difficulty  that  they  could  find  a  practicable 
passage,  especially  for  the  train  of  heavy  guns,  whicn  were  dragged  along  with 
incredible  toil  by  the  united  efforts  of  men  and  horses.  The  soldiers,  born 
and  bred  in  the  sunny  plains  of  Andalusia,  were  but  ill  provided  against  an 
intensity  of  cold  of  which  they  had  never  formed  a  conception.  The  nands 
and  feet  of  many  were  frozen.  Others,  benumbed,  and  exhausted  by  exces- 
sive toil,  straggled  in  the  rear,  and  sank  down  in  the  snow-drifts,  or  disap- 
peared in  the  treacherous  ravines  and  crevices,  which,  under  their  glittering 
mantle,  lay  concealed  from  the  eye.  It  fared  still  worse  with  the  Moriscoes, 
especially  with  the  women  and  children,  who,  after  hanging  on  the  skirts  of 

'"  «'  Mas  la  priesa  de  caminar  en  siguimiento  de  quemar  la  mayor  pnrt<%  porque  ellos  no  se 
de  los  enemigos,  1  la  falta  de  bae.-iges  en  que  aprovechasen."  Mendoza,  Guerrade  Granada, 
la  curgar  i  genie  con  que  aseguralla,  fue  causa  torn.  i.  p.  75. 


MASSACRE  AT  JUBILE3.  523 

the  retreating  army,  had,  the  better  to  elude  pursuit,  scaled  the  more  in- 
accessible parts  of  the  mountains,  where,  taking  refuge  iu  caverns,  they 
perished,  in  great  numbers,  of  cold  and  hunger.*1 

Meanwhile,  Aben-Humeya,  disheartened  by  his  late  reverses,  felt  too  little 
confidence  in  the  strength  of  his  present  position  to  abide  there  the  assault 
of  the  Spaniards.  Quitting  the  place,  therefore,  and  taking  with  him  his 
women  and  effects,  he  directed  his  course  by  rapid  marches  towards  Paterna, 
his  principal  residence,  which  had  the  advantage,  by  its  neighbourhood  to  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  of  affording  him,  if  necessary,  the  means  of  escaping  into  its 
wild  and  mysterious  recesses  where  none  but  a  native  would  care  to  follow 
him.  He  left  in  the  castle  of  Jubiles  a  great  number  of  Morisco  women,  who 
had  accompanied  the  army  in  its  retreat,  and  three  hundred  men,  who,  from 
age  or  infirmity,  would  be  likely  to  embarrass  his  movements. 

On  reaching  Jubfles,  therefore,  the  Spanish  general  met  with  no  resistance 
from  the  helpless  garrison  who  occupied  the  fortress,  which,  moreover,  con- 
tained a  rich  booty  in  gold,  pearls,  and  precious  stones,  to  gratify  the  cupidity 
of  the  soldiers."  Yet  their  discontent  was  expressed  in  more  audacious  terms 
than  usual  at  the  protection  afforded  by  their  commander  to  the  Morisco 
women,  of  whom  there  were  more  than  two  thousand  in  the  place.  Among 
the  women  found  there  was  also  a  good  number  of  Christian  captives,  who 
roused  the  fierce  passions  of  their  countrymen  by  their  piteous  recital  of  the 
horrors  they  had  witnessed,  of  the  butchery  of  fathers,  husbands,  and  brothers, 
and  of  the  persecutions  to  which  they  haa  themselves  been  subjected  in  order 
to  convert  them  to  Islamism.  They  besought  the  captain -general  to  take 
pity  on  their  sufferings,  and  to  avenge  their  wrongs  by  putting  every  man 
and  woman  found  in  the  place  to  the  sword.**  It  is  evident  that,  however 
prepared  they  niay  have  been  to  accept  the  crown  of  martyrdom  rather  than 
abjure  their  faith,  they  gave  little  heed  to  the  noblest  of  its  precepts,  which 
enjoined  the  forgiveness  of  their  enemies.  In  this  respect  Mondejar  proved 
himself  decidedly  the  better  Christian ;  for  while  he  listened  with  com- 
miseration to  their  tale  of  woe,  and  did  all  he  could  to  comfort  them  in  their 
affliction,*4  he  would  not  abandon  the  protection  of  his  captives,  male  or 
female,  nor  resign  them  to  the  brutality  of  his  soldiers. 

He  provided  for  their  safety  during  the  night  by  allowing  them  to  occupy 
the  church.  But  as  this  would  not  accommodate  more  than  a  thousand  per- 
sons, the  remainder,  including  all  the  men,  were  quartered  in  an  open  square 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  building.  The  Spanish  troops  encamped  at  no 
great  distance  from  the  spot. 

In  the  course  of  the  night  one  of  the  soldiers  found  his  way  into  the  quar- 
ters of  the  captives  and  attempted  to  take  some  freedoms  with  a  Morisco 
maiden.  It  so  happened  that  her  lover,  disguised  in  woman's  attire,  was  at 
her  side,  having  remained  with  her  for  her  protection.  His  Moorish  blood 
fired  at  the  insult,  and  he  resented  it  by  striking  his  poniard  into  the  body  of 
the  Spaniard.  The  cry  of  the  latter  soon  roused  his  comrades.  Rushing  to 
the  place,  they  fell  on  the  young  Morisco,  who,  now  brandishing  a  sword 

"  "  Los  Moros  tonuron  to  alto  de  la  sierra,  444. 

yno  pararon  hast*  nx-tente  en  la nieve, donrte  -'•'  "No  tnmen.  Mflores,  &  vlda  hotnbre  nl 

perecle  on  cantld.id  de  inuK<-n  s  y  de  crialura  mugerde  aquestos  heregr*,  que  tan  malo«  ban 

de  frio."     Marniul,  Itebelionde  t>ranada,lum.  Mdo,  y  taiitu  mal  no*  luu  liecbu."      Iliid., 

1.  p.  437.  p.  440. 

••  "  El  Marques  leu  dirt  i  saco  todo  el  nine-  ••  "  El  Marque*  »e  enterneclo1  de  ver  aque- 

ble,  en  que  IiahU  ricas  cuoas  de  twda,  oro,  lias  pobres  mugi-res  tan  lastimaddfl,  y  cons... 

plata  y  aljofar,  de  que  rupo  la  mejor  y  mayur  landulas  lo  mejur  que  pudo,"  etc.     Ibid.,  ubi 

parte  &  lew  que  bablan  ido  duiante."    Ibid.,  p.  supra. 


524  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

which  he  had  snatched  from  the  disabled  man,  laid  about  him  so  valiantly 
that  several  others  were  wounded.  The  cry  rose  that  there  were  armed  men, 
disguised  as  women,  among  the  prisoners.  More  soldiers  poured  in  to  the 
support  of  their  comrades,  and  fell  with  fury  on  their  helpless  victims.  The 
uproar  was  universal.  On  the  one  side  might  be  heard  moans  and  petitions 
for  mercy  ;  on  the  other,  brutal  imprecations,  followed  by  deadly  blows,  that 
showed  now  little  the  prayers  for  mercy  had  availed.  The  hearts  of  the 
soldiers  were  harder  than  the  steel  with  which  they  struck ;  for  they  called 
to  mind  the  cruelties  inflicted  on  their  own  countrymen  by  the  Moriscoes. 
Striking  to  the  right  and  left,  they  hewed  down  men  and  women  indiscrimi- 
nately,— both  equally  defenceless.  In  their  blind  fury  they  even  wounded 
one  another  ;  for  it  was  not  easy  to  discern  friend  from  foe  in  the  obscurity, 
in  which  little  light  was  to  be  had,  says  the  chronicler,  except  such  as  came 
from  the  sparks  of  clashing  steel  or  the  flash  of  fire-arms.*5  It  was  in  vain 
that  the  officers  endeavoured  to  call  oft'  the  men  from  their  work  of  butchery. 
The  hot  temper  of  the  Andalusian  was  fully  roused  ;  and  it  would  have  been 
as  easy  to  stop  the  explosion  of  the  mine  when  the  train  has  been  fired,  as  to 
stay  his  fury.  It  was  not  till  the  morning  light  showed  the  pavement  swim- 
ming in  gore,  and  the  corpses  of  the  helpless  victims  lying  in  heaps  on  one 
another,  that  his  appetite  for  blood  was  satisfied.  Great  numbers  of  the 
women,  and  nearly  all  the  men,  perished  in  this  massacre."  Those  in  the 
church  succeeded  in  making  fast  the  doors  and  thus  excluding  their  enemies, 
who  made  repeated  efforts  to  enter  the  building.  The  marquis  of  Mondejar, 
indignant  at  this  inhuman  outrage  perpetrated  by  his  followers,  and  at  their 
flagrant  disobedience  of  orders,  caused  an  inquiry  into  the  affair  to  be  instantly 
made ;  and  the  execution  of  three  of  the  most  guilty  proved  a  salutary  warn- 
ing to  the  Andalusian  soldier  that  there  were  limits  beyond  which  it  was  not 
safe  to  try  the  patience  of  his  commander.27 

Before  leaving  Jubfles,  Mondejar  sent  off  to  Granada,  under  a  strong  escort, 
the  Christian  captives  who,  since  their  liberation,  had  remained  with  the 
army.  There  were  eight  hundred  of  them,  women  and  children, — a  helpless 
multitude,  whose  wants  were  to  be  provided  for,  and  whose  presence  could  not 
fail  greatly  to  embarrass  his  movements.  They  were  obliged  to  perform  that 
long  and  wearisome  journey  across  the  mountains  on  foot,  as  there  were  no 
means  of  transportation.  And  piteous  was  the  spectacle  which  they  presented 
when  they  reached  the  capital.  As  the  way-worn  wanderers  entered  by  the 
gate  of  Bib-arranbla,  the  citizens  came  forth  in  crowds  to  welcome  them.  A 
body  of  cavalry  was  in  the  van,— each  of  the  troopers  holding  one  or  two 
children  on  the  saddle  before  him,  with  sometimes  a  third  on  the  crupper 
cHnging  to  his  back.  The  infantry  brought  up  the  rear  ;  while  the  centre  of 
the  procession  was  occupied  by  the  women,— a  forlorn  and  melancholy  band, 
with  their  heads  undefended  by  any  covering  from  the  weather  ;  their  hair, 
bleached  by  the  winter's  tempests,  streaming  wildly  over  their  shoulders ; 
their  clothes  scanty,  tattered,  and  soiled  with  travel ;  without  stockings, 
without  shoes,  to  protect  their  feet  against  the  cold  and  flinty  roads  ;  while 

"  "  Hubo  muchos  soldados  beridos.  los  mas  vivo,  de  las  Moriscas  huvo  rrmchas  muertas, 

que  se  herian   uuos  &  otros,  entemliendo  los  de  los  nueptros  algunos  heridos,  que  con  la 

qui-  venian  de  fuera,  que  Ins  que  mart  illaban  es<  uridad  de  la  noche  se  hacian  dafio  uuos  u 

con  las  espadas  eran  .Moros,  porqiie  solamente  otros."     Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  77. 
les  alumbraba  el  centfllear  del  acero,  y  el  '•"  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. — Rleda,  Cronica  de  Es- 

relampaguear  de  la  polvora  de  los  arcabuces  pafia,  p.  68.*>. — Herrera,Hi.=toria  general,  torn. 

en  la  ten>  brosa  escuridad  de  la  noche."    Mar-  i.  p.  737. — Mannol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn, 

mol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  445.  1.  p.  441,  et  seq. — Cabrera,  Fllipe  Segundo,  p. 

*•  "  De  los  Moriscos  quasi  ninguno  qued6  558. 


THE  LIBERATED  CHRISTIANS.  525 

in  the  lines  traced  upon  their  countenances  the  dullest  eye  might  read  the 
story  of  their  unparalleled  sufferings.  Many  of  the  company  were  persons 
who,  unaccustomed  to  toil,  and  delicately  nurtured,  were  but  poorly  prepaied 
for  the  trials  and  privations  of  every  kind  to  which  they  had  been  subjected.28 
As  their  friends  and  countrymen  gathered  round  them,  to  testify  their 
sympathy  and  listen  to  the  story  of  their  misfortunes,  the  voices  of  the  poor 
wanderers  were  choked  with  sobs  and  lamentations.  The  grief  was  con- 
tagious ;  and  the  sorrowing  and  sympathetic  multitude  accompanied  the  pro- 
cession like  a  train  of  mourners  to  the  monastery  of  Our  Lady  of  Victory,  in 
the  opposite  quarter  of  the  city,  where  services  were  performed  with  much 
solemnity  and  thanks  were  ottered  up  for  their  deliverance  from  captivity. 
From  the  church  they  proceeded  to  the  Alhambra,  where  they  were  graciously 
received  by  the  marchioness  of  Mondejar,  the  wife  of  the  captain -general, 
who  did  what  she  could  to  alleviate  the  miseries  of  their  condition.  Those 
who  had  friends  and  relations  in  the  city  found  shelter  in  their  houses  ;  while 
the  rest  were  kindly  welcomed  by  the  archbishop  of  Granada,  and  by  the 
charitable  people  of  the  town,  who  provided  them  with  raiment  and  whatever 
•was  necessary  for  their  comfort.2'  The  stories  which  the  fugitives  had  to  tell 
of  the  horrid  scenes  they  had  witnessed  in  the  Alpujarras  roused  a  deeper 
feeling  of  hatred  in  the  Spaniards  towards  the  Moriscoes,  that  boded  ill  for 
the  security  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Albaicin. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

REBELLION  OP  THE  MORISCOES. 

Situation  of  Aben-Humeya— Kate  of  the  Moorish  Prisoners— Storming  of  Gnajaras — Escape  of 
Aben-Uumeya — Operations  of  Los  Velez — Cabal  against  Moudejar — License  of  the  Soldiers 
—Massacre  in  Granada — The  Insurrection  rekindled. 

1569. 

BEFORE  the  marquis  of  Mondejar  quitted  Jubiles,  he  received  a  visit  from 
seventeen  of  the  principal  Moriscoes  in  that  part  of  the  country,  who  came  to 
tender  their  submission,  exculpating  themselves,  at  the  same  time,  from  any 
share  in  the  insurrection,  and  humbly  suing  for  the  captain- general's  protec- 
tion. This,  agreeably  to  his  policy,  ne  promptly  accorded,  granting  them  a 
safe-conduct,  with  instructions  to  tell  their  countrymen  what  he  had  done, 
and  persuade  them,  if  possible,  to  return  to  their  allegiance,  as  the  only  way 
of  averting  the  ruin  that  else  would  speedily  overtake  them.  This  act  of 
clemency,  so  repugnant  to  the  feelings  of  the  Spaniards,  was  a  new  cau^e 
of  disgust  to  his  soldiers,  who  felt  that  the  fair  terms  thus  secured  by  the 
rebels  were  little  better  than  a  victory  over  themselves.'  Yet  the  good  effects 
of  this  policy  were  soon  made  visible  when  the  marquis  resumed  his  inarch. 

**  "HabiaentreellasmnchasduefinH  nobles,  pos  dun.  y  las  otrns  fueron  hoppodadas  c«n 

apueslas  y  hermoHas  doncellas,  rrladaR  con  car  klad  outre  1«  btiPiin  gente,  y  dp  linxwna  ne 

mucho  rcgalo,  qne  iban  denmnia*  y  <l  Hcalzax,  l»n  com  pro  de  vextlr  y  de  calzar."    Marniol, 

y  tan  iimltr.it.nlo.-i  del  trubojo  del  captiverio  y  KI  Ix-lion  de  tiranada,  ubl  supra. 

d"l  camino,  que  no  solo  quebraban  los  cora-  '  "LoKHoldndosnopodlan  ll.vari  pa'-icncia 

zones  4  los  que  las  conocian,  mu-  aun  a  qulen  vcr  quo  *<•  tratase  de  medius  con  I"-  robeldcR ; 

no  las   liabia  visto."     Manuol,  Uebelion  de  y  quati<J.»  otro  dia  .•*•  sup.,  que  lo:<  nduiltla,  fue 

Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  443.  tan  gratide  la  trlstcza  en  el  canipo,  coinn  si 

•"  "  Y  volvlendo  6  las  cazas  del  ArzoMwpo,  hubierun  perdido  la  Jornada."     Marmol,  Re- 
las  que  teniun  parlentes  las  llrvurou  il  sus  be  lion  dc  Granada,  torn.  I.  p.  443. 


526  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

For,  as  his  favourable  dispositions  became  more  generally  known,  numbers  of 
the  Moriscoes,  and  several  places  on  the  route,  eagerly  tendered  their  sub- 
mission, imploring  his  mercy,  and  protection  against  his  followers. 

Aben-Humeya,  meanwhile,  who  lay  at  Paterna,  with  his  wives  and  his 
warriors  gathered  around,  saw  with  dismay  that  his  mountain-throne  was  fast 
sliding  away  from  beneath  him.  The  spirit  of  distrust  and  disaffection  had 
crept  into  his  camp.  It  was  divided  into  two  parties.  One  of  these,  despair- 
ing of  further  resistance,  would  have  come  instantly  to  terms  with  the  enemy. 
The  other  still  adhered  to  a  bolder  policy ;  but  its  leaders,  if  we  may  trust  the 
Castilian  writers,  were  less  influenced  by  patriotic  than  by  personal  motives, 
being  for  the  most  part  men  who  had  borne  so  conspicuous  a  part  in  the 
insurrection  that  they  could  scarcely  hope  to  be  included  in  any  amnesty 
granted  by  the  Spaniards.  Such,  in  particular,  were  the  African  adven- 
turers, who  had  distinguished  themselves  above  all  others  by  their  ferocious 
persecution  of  the  Christians.  They  directed,  at  this  time,  the  counsels  of 
the  Moorish  prince,  filling  his  mind  with  suspicious  of  the  loyalty  of  some  of 
his  followers,  especially  of  the  father  of  one  of  his  wives,  a  pe  son  of  much 
authority  among  the  Moriscoes.  To  suspect  and  to  slay  were  words  of  much 
the  same  import  with  Aben-Humeya.  He  sent  for  his  relative,  and,  on  his 
entering  the  apartment,  caused  him  to  be  despatched  before  his  eyes.2  He 
would  have  followed  this  up  by  the  murder  of  some  others  of  the  family,  if  they 
had  not  eluded  his  grasp  ;  thus  establishing  his  title  to  a  descent  from  those 
despots  of  the  East  with  whom  the  lives  of  their  kindred  were  of  as  little 
account  as  the  vermin  in  their  path.8 

He  was  still  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army.  Its  number,  indeed,  amount- 
ing to  six  thousand  men,  constituted  its  greatest  strength  ;  for,  without  disci- 
pline, almost  without  arms,  it  was  made  up  of  such  rude,  incongruous  materials, 
that,  as  he  had  already  experienced,  it  could  never  abide  the  shock  of  battle 
from  the  militia  of  Castile.  The  Moorish  prince  had  other  causes  for  dis- 
couragement, in  the  tidings  he  was  hourly  receiving  of  the  defection  of  his 
subjects.  The  clemency  shown  by  the  conqueror  was  doing  more  for  him  than 
his  arms, — as  the  snow 'which  the  blasts  of  winter  have  only  bound  more  closely 
to  the  hill-side  loosens  its  hold  and  falls  away  under  the  soft  touch  of  spring. 
Notwithstanding  his  late  display  of  audacity,  the  unhappy  young  man  now 
lost  all  confidence  in  his  own  fortunes  and  in  his  followers.  Sorely  perplexed, 
he  knew  not  where  to  turn.  He  had  little  of  the  constancy  or  courage 
of  the  patriot  who  has  perilled  his  life  in  a  great  cause  ;  and  he  now  had 
recourse  to  the  same  expedient  which  he  had  so  lately  punished  with  death  in 
his  father-in-law. 

He  sent  a  message  to  the  marquis  of  Mondejar,  offering  to  surrender,  and, 
if  time  were  given,  to  persuade  his  people  to  follow  his  example.  Meanwhile, 
he  requested  the  Spanish  commander  to  stay  his  march,  and  thus  prevent  a 
collision  with  his  troops.  Mondejar,  though  he  would  not  consent  to  this, 
advanced  more  leisurely,  while  he  opened  a  negotiation  with  his  enemy.  He 
had  already  come  in  sight  of  the  rebel  forces,  when  he  consented,  at  the 
request  of  Aben-Humeya,  to  halt  for  a  night  in  the  neighbouring  village  of 
Iniza,  in  order  to  give  time  for  a  personal  interview.  This  required  the  troops, 
some  of  whom  had  now  advanced  within  musket-range  of  the  enemy,  to  fall 

*  Mannol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  his  descent,  took  refuge  in  Spain  from  a  bloody 
455.  persecution,  in  which  every  member  of  his 

*  Abderrabman— or,  as  ppelt  by  Gayang'  s,  numerous  family  is  said  to  have  perished  by 
Abdu-r-rhamin— the  First,  the  founder  of  the  the  scimitar  or  the  bow-string. 

dynasty  from  which  Aben-Humeya  claimed 


FATE  OF  THE   MOORISH   PRISONERS.  527 

back  and  take  up  ground  in  the  rear  of  their  present  position.  In  executing 
this  manoeuvre  tney  came  almost  in  contact  with  a  detachment  of  the  Moori-sh 
army,  who,  in  their  ignorance  of  its  real  object,  regarding  the  movement  as  a 
hostile  demonstration,  sent  a  shower  of  arrows  and  other  missiles  among  the 
Spaniards,  which  they  returned  with  hearty  good  will  by  a  volley  of  musketry. 
The  engagement  soon  became  general  Aben-Humeya  at  the  time  was  read- 
ing a  letter,  which  he  had  just  received  from  one  of  Mondejar's  staff,  arranging 
the  place  for  the  interview,  when  he  was  startled  by  the  tiring,  and  saw 
with  consternation  his  own  men  warmly  engaged  with  the  enemy.  Supposing 
he  had  been  deceived  by  the  Spaniards,  lie  flung  the  letter  on  the  ground, 
and,  throwing  himself  into  the  saddle,  without  so  much  as  attempting  to 
rally  his  forces,  which  were  now  flying  over  the  field  in  all  directions,  he  took 
the  road  to  the  Sierra  Nevada,  followed  by  only  five  or  six  of  his  attendants.4 
His  horse  was  fleet,  and  he  soon  gained  the  defiles  of  the  mountains.  But 
he  was  hotly  pursued ;  and,  thinking  it  safer  to  trust  to  himself  than  to  his 
horse,  he  dismounted,  cut  the  hamstrings  of  the  animal  to  prevent  his  being 
of  service  to  his  pursuers,  and  disappeared  in  the  obscure  depths  of  the  sierra, 
where  it  would  have  been  fruitless  to  follow  him. 

The  rout  of  his  army  was  complete ;  and  the  victors  might  have  inflicted  an 
incalculable  loss  on  the  fugitive*,  had  not  the  martinis  of  Mondejar  called  off 
his  troops  and  put  a  stop  to  the  work  of  death.  He  wished  to  keep  open  as 
widely  as  possible  the  door  of  reconciliation.  His  conduct,  which  was  not 
understood  and  could  not  have  been  appreciated  by  his  men,  was  stigmatized 
by  them  as  treachery.  They  found  some  amends  for  their  disappointment  in 
the  pillage  of  Paterna,  the  residence  of  Aben-Humeya,  which,  well  provided 
with  the  costly  finery  so  much  loved  by  the  Moriscoes,  furnished  a  welcome 
booty  to  the  conquerors.* 

Among  the  Moorish  captives  were  Aben-Humeya's  mother,  two  of  his 
sisters,  and  one  of  his  wives,  to  whom,  as  usual,  Mondejar  extended  his 
protection. 

Yet  the  disposal  of  his  prisoners  was  a  subject  of  perplexity  to  the  Spanish 
commander.  His  soldiers,  as  we  have  seen,  would  have  settled  it  at  once, 
had  their  captain  consented,  by  appropriating  them  all  as  the  spoils  of  victory. 
There  were  many  per.sons,  higher  in  authority  than  the  ;e  soldiers,  wlio  were 
of  the  same  way  of  thinking  on  the  subject  with  them.  The  question  was  one 
of  sufficient  importance  to  come  before  the  government  Philip  referred  it  to 
the  council  of  state  ;  and,  regarding  it  as  a  case  of  conscience,  in  which  the 
interests  of  religion  were  concerned,  he  asked  the  opinion  of  the  Royal  Audience 
of  Granada,  over  which  Deza  presided.  The  final  decision  was  what  might 
have  been  expected  from  tribunals  with  inquisitors  at  their  head.  The 
Moriscoes,  men  and  women,  were  declared  to  have  incurred  by  their  rebellion 
the  doom  of  slavery.  What  is  more  remarkable  ii  the  precedent  cited  for  this 
judgment,  it  being'  no  other  than  a  decision  of  the  Council  of  Toledo,  as  far 
back  as  the  time  of  the  Visigoths,  when  certain  rebellious  Jews  were  held  to 
have  forfeited  their  liberty  by  an  act  of  rebellion.*  The  Morisco,  it  was  said, 
should  fare  no  better  than  the  Jew,  since  he  was  not  only,  like  him,  a  rebel 

•  ••  Y  cnmo  vio  qne  los  Christlanos  Iban  U  '  Ihirt.,  p.  4&H,  et  soq. — Femras,  H  st.  d'Ks- 

nierra  arriba.  y  que  los  suyo*  hufan  dwtvergon-  pagne.  torn.  x.  pp.  3J-3I.— Mendoza,  Uuerra 

ZAtlamrnt",  entervliendo  que  todo  lo  que  Don  de  (iranadd.  pp.  80,  81.— Cabrera,  Kilipe  So- 

Aloiiflu  Venegas  trutiba  era  engine,  echo  las  gumlo.    pp.    6CO,    661.  —  Hrrrera,    iiUturia 

cartas  en  el  suelo,  y  Ktibiendo  .i  gran  priess  en  gener.il.  toin.  i.  p.  73T. 

tin  cabal  lu.  dcxo   su   lainili.i  atrai,  y   liuyo  *  The  decision  referred  to  was  probably  one 

tambien  la   vu-lia  de   la  sierra."     Manuol,  in  the  last  Council  of  Toledo.  A.O.  69U.    Sc« 

Rcbclion  de  Granada,  torn.  1.  p.  460.  Mariana,  Hi*t.  de  Espafld,  turn.  I.  p.  454. 


528  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

and  an  infidel,  but  an  apostate  to  boot.  The  decision,  it  was  understood,  was 
very  satisfactory  to  Philip,  who,  however,  "  with  the  pious  moderation  that 
distinguished  so  just  and  considerate  a  prince," '  so  far  mitigated  the  severity 
of  the  sentence,  in  the  pragmatic  which  he  published,  as  to  exempt  from  its 
operation  boys  under  ten  years  of  age  and  girls  under  eleven.  These  were  to 
be  placed  in  the  care  of  responsible  persons  who  would  give  them  the  benefits 
of  a  Christian  education.  Unhappily,  there  is  reason  to  think  that  the  good 
intentions  of  the  government  were  not  very  conscientiously  carried  out  in 
respect  to  this  provision  by  those  intrusted  with  the  execution  of  it.8 

While  the  question  was  pending,  Jubiles  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victors  ; 
and  Mondejar,  not  feeling  nimseli  at  liberty  to  release  his  female  captives,  of 
whom  more  than  a  thousand,  by  this  event,  had  come  into  his  possession, 
delivered  them  in  charge  to  three  of  the  principal  Moriscoes,  to  whom,  it 
may  be  remembered,  he  had  given  letters  of  safe-conduct.  They  were  allowed 
to  restore  the  women  to  their  families,  on  condition  that  they  should  all  be 
surrendered  on  the  demand  of  the  government.  Such  an  act,  it  must  be 
admitted,  implies  great  confidence  in  the  good  faith  of  the  Moslems, — a  con- 
fidence fully  justified  by  the  result.  When,  in  obedience  to  the  pragmatic, 
they  were  claimed  by  the  government,  they  were  delivered  up  by  their  families, 
— with  the  exception  of  some  who  had  died  in  the  mean  time, — and  the  greater 
part  of  them  were  sold  by  public  auction  in  Granada.9 

The  only  place  of  any  importance  which  now  held  out  against  Mondejar  was 
La?  Guajaras,  situated  in  the  plains  of  Salobrena,  in  the  direction  of  Velez 
Malaga.  This  was  a  rocky,  precipitous  hill,  on  the  summit  of  which  nature, 
with  little  assistance  from  art,  had  constructed  a  sort  of  rude  fortress.  It  was 
held  by  a  fierce  band  of  Moriscoes,  who,  descending  from  the  heights,  swept 
over  the  plains,  carrying  on  devastating  forays,  that  made  them  the  terror  of 
the  surrounding  country.  Mondejar,  moved  by  the  complaints  of  the  inhabi- 
tants, left  Ugijar  on  the  fifth  of  February,  at  the  head  of  his  whole  array, 
now  much  augmented  by  the  arrival  of  recent  levies,  and  marched  rapidly  on 
Guajaras.  He  met  with  a  more  formidable  resistance  than  he  had  expected. 
His  first  attempt  to  carry  the  place  was  repulsed  with  a  heavy  loss  on  the  part 
of  the  assailants.  The  Moorish  garrison,  from  its  elevated  position,  poured  a 
storm  of  missiles  on  their  heads,  and,  what  was  worse,  rolled  down  huge  masses 
of  rock,  which,  ploughing  through  the  Castilian  ranks,  overthrew  men  and 
horses,  and  did  as  great  execution  as  would  have  been  done  by  artillery. 
Eight  hundred  Spaniards  were  left  dead  on  the  field ;  and  many  a  noble  house 
in  Andalusia  had  to  go  into  mourning  for  that  day's  disaster. 

Mondejar,  stung  by  this  repulse, — the  first  reverse  his  arms  had  experienced, 
— determined  to  lead  the  attack  in  person  on  the  following  day.  His  approaches 
were  made  with  greater  caution  than  before  ;  and,  without  much  injury,  he 
succeeded  in  bringing  his  arquebusiers  on  a  higher  level,  where  their  fire 
swept  the  enemy's  intrenchments  and  inflicted  on  him  a  terrible  loss.  Still, 
the  sun  went  down,  and  the  place  had  not  surrendered.  But  El  Zamar,  its 
brave  defender,  without  ammunition,  almost  without  arms,  felt  that  there  was 
no  longer  hope  for  his  little  garrison.  Silently  evacuating  the  place,  therefore, 
at  dead  of  night,  the  Moriscoes,  among  whom  were  both  women  and  children, 

T  I  quote  the  words  of  Marmol :  "  Con  una  were  all  returned,—"  a  thing  never  before 

tnoderacion  piadosa,  de  qne  qniso  usar  como  seen,  whether  it  arose  from  fear  or  obedience, 

principe  considerado  y  justo."  Rebellon  de  or  that  there  was  such  an  abundance  of  women 

Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  495.  that  they  were  regarded  as  little  better  than 

'  Ibid.,  ubi  supra.  household  furniture."    Guerra  de  Granada,  p. 

•  Ibid.,  pp.  465,  498 — Alendoza  says  they  9S. 


ESCAPE  OF  ABEN-HUMEYA.  529 

scrambled  down  the  precipice  with  the  fearlessness  of  the  mountain-goat,  and 
made  their  escape  without  attracting  the  notice  of  the  Spaniards.  They  left 
behind  only  such  as,  from  age  or  infirmity,  were  unable  to  follow  them  in  their 
perilous  descent. 

On  the  next  day,  when  the  Spanish  general  prepared  to  renew  the  assault, 
great  was  his  astonishment  to  find  that  the  enemy  had  vanished,  except  only 
a  few  wretched  beings,  incapable  of  making  any  resistance.  All  the  evil 
passions  of  Mondejar^s  nature  had  been  roused  by  the  obstinate  defence  of  the 
place  and  the  lives  it  had  cost  him.  In  the  heat  of  his  wrath,  he  ordered  the 
helpless  garrison  to  be  put  to  the  sword.  No  prayer  for  mercy  was  heeded. 
Is  o  regard  was  had  to  age  or  to  sex.  All  were  cut  down  in  the  presence  of 
the  general,  who  is  even  said  to  have  stimulated  the  faltering  soldiers  to  go 
through  with  their  bloody  work10  An  act  so  hard  to  be  reconciled  with  his 
previous  conduct  has  been  referred  by  some  to  the  annoyance  which  he  felt  at 
being  so  frequently  taxed  with  excessive  lenity  to  the  Moriscoes,  an  accusation 
which  was  carried,  indeed,  before  the  crown,  and  which  the  present  occasion 
afforded  him  the  means  of  effectually  disproving.  However  this  may  be,  the 
historian  must  lament  the  tarnished  honour  of  a  brave  and  generous  chief, 
whose  character  up  to  this  time  had  been  sullied  by  none  01  those  acts  of 
cruelty  which  distinguished  this  sanguinary  war." 

But  even  this  cruelty  was  surpassed  by  that  of  his  son,  the  count  of  TendilJa. 
El  Zamar,  the  gallant  defender  of  the  fortress,  wandered  about  among  the 
crags  with  his  little  daughter,  whom  he  carried  in  his  arms.  Famished  and 
fainting  from  fatigue,  he  was  at  length  overtaken  by  his  enemies,  and  sent 
off  as  a  prisoner  to  Granada,  where  the  fierce  Tendilla  caused  the  flesh  to  be 
torn  from  his  bones  with  red-hot  pincers,  and  his  mangled  carcase,  yet  palpi- 
tating with  life,  to  be  afterwards  quartered.  The  crime  of  El  Zamar  was  that 
he  had  fought  too  bravely  for  the  independence  of  his  nation. 

Having  razed  the  walls  of  Guajaras  to  the  ground,  Mondejar  returned  with 
his  blood-stained  laurels  to  his  head-quarters  at  Orgiba.  Tower  and  town  had 
gone  down  before  him.  On  every  side  his  arms  had  proved  victorious.  But 
one  thing  was  wanting,— the  capture  of  Aben-Humeya,  the  "  liltle  king"  of 
the  Alpujarras.  So  long  as  he  lived,  the  insurrection,  now  smothered,  might 
be  rekindled  at  any  time.  He  had  taken  refuge,  it  was  known,  in  the  wilds  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada,  where,  as  the  captain -general  wrote,  he  was  wandering 
from  rock  to  rock  with  only  a  handful  of  followers.12  Mondejar  sent  two  de- 
tachments of  soldiers  into  the  sieria,  to  discover  his  haunts,'  if  possible,  and 
seize  upon  his  person. 

The  commander  of  one  of  these  parties,  named  Maldonado,  ascertained 
that  Aben-Humeya,  secreting  himself  among  the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains 
by  day,  would  steal  forth  at  night,  and  repair,  with  a  few  of  his  followers,  to 

'"  "  Fue  tanta  la  Indignacion  del  Marques  Segundo,  p.  569. — The  storming  of  GuAj&ras 

de  Mondejar,  quo,   tin  perdonar  a  ninguna  is  a  favourite  tin-mi-  with  both  chroniclers 

edatl  ni  »exo,  mand<5  pasar  a  ciirhillo  liomhres  and  hards.     Among  the  latter  Hita  has  not 

y  mugerea.  quantos  habia  en  el  fuette ;  y  en  failed  to  hung  his  garland  of  verse  on  the 

su  presencla  los  bacia  matar  u  los  alabarderos  tombs  of  more  than  one  illustrious  cavalier 

dc  su  fcuanlia,  que  no  bastaban  los  ruegos  de  who  perished  In  that  bloody  strife,  and  fur 

lip*   cab.illrroH   y  capitanes,  nl   las  piadosa*  whose  los*  "all  the  noble  dames  of  Revlll- ," 

Interim,  s  t1<-  las  que  peilian  la  miserable  vlda."  as  he  tells  us,  "  went  Into  mourning."   Oner- 

Marniol,  Kebellon  de  Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  493.  res  de  Granada,  torn.  II.  pp.  112-118. 

•'  Ibid.,  p.  482,  et  seq.— Mendora.  Uuerra  "  "Que  no  habia  oeado  parar  en  la  Ai- 
de Granada,  pp.  86-95.— Ferreras,  Hist  d'Fju  puzarra,  y   con    solos  cincuenta  ft  se«eiita 
papie,   torn.   at.   pp.  32-36. — Rleda,  Cronica 
de  K-pafta,  p.  688,  et  seq. — Herrera,  Hint  or a 
general,   torn.   I.  p.   738.  —  Cabrera,    Fillpe  nada,  torn.  i.  p.  4C4. 

2  M 


puzarra,  y  con  solos  cincuenta  ft  se«eiita 
bombieo,  que  le  segulan,  andalx.buycnilo  do 
pffta  en  pefla."  Manuo],  Rcbcllon  de  Gra- 


530  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

a  place  called  Mecina,  on  the  skirts  of  the  sierra.  Here  he  found  shelter  in 
the  house  of  his  kinsman,  Aben-Aboo,  one  of  those  Moriscoes  who,  after  the 
affair  of  Jubiles,  had  obtained  a  safe-conduct  from  Mondejar.  Having  gained 
this  intelligence  and  learned  the  situation  of  the  house,  the  Spanish  captain 
marched,  with  his  little  band  of  two  hundred  soldiers,  in  that  direction.  He 
made  his  approach  with  the  greatest  secrecy.  Travelling  by  night,  he  reached 
undiscovered  the  neighbourhood  of  Aben-Aboo's  residence.  Advancing  under 
cover  of  the  darkness,  he  had  arrived  within  gunshot  of  the  dwelling,  when,  at 
this  critical  moment,  all  his  precautions  were  defeated  by  the  carelessness  of 
one  of  his  company,  whose  arquebuse  was  accidentally  discharged.  The  report, 
reverberating  from  the  hills  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  roused  the  inmates  of 
the  house,  who  slept  as  the  wearied  mariner  sleeps  when  his  ship  is  in  danger 
of  foundering.  One  of  them.  El  Zaguer.  the  uncle  of  Aben-Humeya,  and  the 
person  who  had  been  mainly  instrumental  in  securing  him  his  crown,— a  cro^  n 
of  thorns, — was  the  first  roused,  and,  springing  to  the  window,  he  threw  him- 
self down,  though  the  height  was  considerable,  and  made  his  way  to  the 
mountains. 

His  nephew,  who  lay  in  another  part  of  the  building,  was  not  so  fortunate. 
When  he  reached  the  window  he  saw  with  dismay  the  ground  in  front  occupied 
by  a  body  of  Castilian  troops.  Hastening  to  another  window,  he  found  it  stiil 
the  same :  his  enemies  were  everywhere  around  the  house.  Bewildered  and 
sorely  distressed,  he  knew  not  where  to  turn.  Thus  entrapped,  and  without 
the  means  of  making  any  terms  with  his  enemies,  he  knew  he  had  as  little  to 
hope  from  their  mercy  as  the  wolf  has  from  the  hunters  who  have  caught  him 
in  his  lair.  The  Spaniards,  meanwhile,  were  thundering  at  the  door  of  the 
building  for  admittance.  Fortunately,  it  was  well  secured.  A  sudden  thought 
occurred  to  Aben-Humeya,  which  he  instantly  put  into  execution.  Hastening 
down-stairs,  he  took  his  station  behind  the  door,  and  gently  drew  the  bolts. 
The  noise  was  not  heard  amidst  the  din  made  by  the  assailants,  who,  finding 
the  door  give  way,  supposed  they  had  forced  the  fastenings,  and,  pouring  in, 
soon  spread  themselves  in  every  direction  over  the  house  in  search  of  the 
fugitive.  Aben-Humeya,  ensconced  behind  the  door,  escaped  observation, 
and,  when  his  enemies  had  disappeared,  stole  out  into  the  darkness,  and, 
under  its  friendly  mantle,  succeeded  in  finding  his  way  to  the  mountains. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  Spaniards,  enraged  at  the  loss  of  the  quarry,  ques- 
tioned Aben-Aboo  as  to  the  haunts  of  his  kinsman,  and  of  El  Zaguer,  his  uncle, 
in  the  sierra.  Nor  could  the  most  excruciating  tortures  shake  his  constancy. 
"  I  may  die,"  said  the  brave  Morisco,  "  but  my  friends  will  live."  Leaving 
him  for  dead,  the  soldiers  returned  to  the  camp,  taking  with  them  a  mlmber 
of  prisoners,  his  companions.  There  was  no  one  of  them,  however,  that  was 
not  provided  with  a  safe-conduct  from  the  marquis,  who  accordingly  set  them 
at  liberty,  showing  a  respect  for  his  engagements  in  which,  unhappily,  as  we 
shall  see  hereafter,  he  was  not  too  well  imitated  by  his  soldiers.  The  heroic 
Aben-Aboo,  though  left  for  dead,  did  not  die,  but  lived  to  head  another  insur- 
rection and  to  take  ample  vengeance  on  his  enemies." 

While  the  arms  of  the  marquis  of  Mondejar  were  thus  crowned  with  success, 
the  war  raged  yet  more  fiercely  on  the  eastern  slopes  of  the  Alpujarras,  where 
a  martial  race  of  mountaineers  threatened  a  descent  on  Afmeria  and  the 

"  The  Cistilian  chronicler  cannot  refuse  503.)     The  story  of  the   escape    of  Aben- 

his  admiration— somewhat  roughly  expressed  Humeya  is  also  told,  and  « ith  little  discre- 

— to  this  brave  Morisco,— "  este  barbaro,"  as  pancy,  by  Cabrera  (Filipe  Segundo,  p.  673) 

he  calls  him,  "hijo  de  aspereza  y  frialdad  and  Ferreras  (Hist.  d'Espagne,  torn.  x.  pp. 

indomable,  y  menospreciador  de  la  muert*-."  39,  40). 
(Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn-    i.   p. 


OPERATIONS  OF  LOS  VELEZ.  531 

neighbouring  places,  keeping  the  inhabitants  in  perpetual  alarm.  They 
accordingly  implored  the  government  at  Granada  to  take  some  effectual 
measures  for  their  relief.  The  president,  Deza,  in  consequence,  desired  the 
marquis  of  Los  Velez,  who  held  the  office  of  adelantado  of  the  adjoining 
province  of  Murcia,  to  muster  a  force  and  provide  for  the  defence  of  the 
frontier.  This  proceeding  was  regarded  by  Mondejar's  friends  as  an  insult  to 
that  nobleman,  whose  military  authority  extended  over  the  country  menaced 
by  the  Moriscoes.  The  act  was  the  more  annoying  that  the  person  invited 
to  assume  the  command  was  a  rival,  between  whose  house  and  that  of  the 
Mendozas  there  existed  an  ancient  feud.  Yet  the  king  sanctioned  the  pro- 
ceeding, thinking  perhaps  that  Mondejar  was  not  in  sufficient  force  to  protect 
the  whole  region  of  the  Alpujarras.  However  this  may  be,  Philip,  by  this 
act,  brought  two  commanders  of  equal  authority  on  the  theatre  of  action,  men 
who  in  their  chai-acters  and  habiiual  policy  were  so  opposed  to  each  other  that 
little  concert  could  be  expected  between  them. 

Don  Luis  Fajardo,  marquis  of  Los  Velez,  was  a  nobleman  somewhat  ad- 
vanced in  years,  most  of  which  had  been  passed  in  the  active  duties  of  military 
life.  He  had  studied  the  art  of  war  under  the  great  emperor,  and  had  acquired 
the  reputation  of  a  prompt  and  resolute  soldier,  bold  in  action,  haughty,  indeed 
overbearing,  in  his  deportment,  and  with  an  inflexible  will,  not  to  be  shaken 
by  friend  or  foe.  The  severity  of  his  nature  had  not  been  softened  under  the 
stern  training  of  the  camp ;  and,  as  his  conduct  in  the  present  expedition 
showed,  he  was  troubled  with  none  of  those  scruples  on  the  score  of  humanity 
which  so  often  turned  the  edge  of  Mondejar's  sword  from  the  defenceless  and 
the  weak.  The  Moriscoes,  who  understood  his  character  well,  held  him  in 
terror,  as  they  proved  by  the  familiar  sobriquet  which  they  gave  him  of  the 
"  iron-headed  devil."  u 

The  marquis,  on  receiving  the  invitation  of  Deza,  lost  no  time  in  gathering 
his  kindred  and  numerous  vassals  around  him  ;  and  they  came  with  an  alacrity 
which  showed  how  willingly  they  obeyed  the  summons  to  a  foray  over  the  border. 
His  own  family  was  a  warlike  race,  reared  from  the  cradle  amidst  the  din  of 
arms.  In  the  present  expedition  he  was  attended  by  three  of  his  sons,  the 
youngest  of  whom,  a  boy  of  thirteen,  had  the  proud  distinction  of  carrying 
his  father's  banner.15  With  the  levies  promptly  furnished  from  the  neighbour- 
ing places,  Los  Velez  soon  found  himself  supported  by  a  force  of  greater 
strength  than  that  which  followed  the  standard  of  Mondejar.  At  the  head 
of  his  valiant  but  ill-disciplined  array,  he  struck  into  the  gloomy  gorges  of 
the  mountains,  resolved  on  bringing  the  enemy  at  once  to  battle. 

Our  limits  will  not  allow  room  for  the  details  of  a  campaign  which  in  its 

feneral  features  bears  so  clo>e  a  resemblance  to  that  already  described.    In- 
eed,  the  contest  was  too  unequal  to  afford  a  subject  of  much  interest  to  the 
general  reader,  while  the  details  are  of  still  less  importance  in  a  military  view, 
from  the  total  ignorance  shown  by  the  Moriscoes  of  the  art  of  war. 

The  fate  of  the  campaiim  was  decided  by  three  battles,  fought  successively 
at  Huecija,  Filix,  and  Ohanez,— places  all  lying  in  the  eastern  ranges  of  the 


eoperanza  de  vitoria."     Marmot,  Rebelion  de 


Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  451.— Hita.  who  was  a  "  Circourt,  Hist,  des  Arabes  en  Espagne, 

native  of  Murcia,  and  followed  \M*  Vel  z  to        torn.  ii.  p.  346. 
the  war,  gives  an  elaborate  portrait  of  this 


632  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

Alpujarras.  That  of  Filix  was  the  most  sanguinary.  A  great  number  of 
stragglers  hung  on  the  skirts  of  the  Morisco  army ;  and  besides  six  thousand 
— many  of  them  women  " — left  dead  upon  the  field,  there  were  two  thousand 
children,  we  are  told,  butchered  by  the  Spaniards."  Some  fled  for  refuge  to 
the  caves  and  thickets ;  but  they  were  speedily  dragged  from  their  hiding- 
places  and  massacred  by  the  soldiers  in  cold  blood.  Others,  to  escape  death 
from  the  hands  of  their  enemies,  threw  themselves  headlong  down  the  preci- 
pices,— some  of  them  with  their  infants  in  their  arms, — and  thus  miserably 
perished.  "  The  cruelties  committed  by  the  troops,"  says  one  of  the  army,  who 
chronicles  its  achievements,  "were  such  as  the  pen  refuses  to  record.18  I 
myself,"  he  adds,  "  saw  the  corpse  of  a  Morisco  woman,  covered  with  wounds, 
stretched  upon  the  ground,  with  six  of  her  children  lying  dead  around  her. 
She  had  succeeded  in  protecting  a  seventh,  still  an  infant,  with  her  body ; 
and,  though  the  lances  which  pierced  her  had  passed  through  its  clothes,  it 
had  marvellously  escaped  any  injury.  It  was  clinging,"  he  continues,  "  to  its 
dead  mother's  bosom,  from  which  it  drew  milk  that  was  mingled  with  blood. 
I  carried  it  away  and  saved  it."  "  For  the  credit  of  human  nature  he  records 
some  other  instances  of  the  like  kind,  showing  that  a  spark  of  humanity  might 
occasionally  be  struck  out  from  the  flinty  breasts  of  these  marauders. 

The  field,  of  battle  afforded  a  rich  harvest  for  the  victors,  who  stripped  the 
dead,  and  rifled  the  bodies  of  the  women,  of  collars,  bracelets,  ornaments  of 
gold  and  silver,  and  costly  jewels,  with  which  the  Moorish  female  loved  to 
decorate  her  person.  Sated  with  plunder,  the  soldiers  took  the  first  occasion 
to  leave  their  colours  and  return  to  their  homes.  Their  places  were  soon  sup- 
plied, as  the  display  of  their  riches  sharpened  the  appetites  of  their  country- 
men, who  eagerly  flocked  to  the  banner  of  a  chief  that  was  sure  to  lead  them 
on  to  victory  and  plunder.  But  that  chief,  with  all  his  stern  authority,  was  no 
match  for  the  spirit  of  insubordination  that  reigned  among  his  troops  ;  and 
when  he  attempted  to  punish  one  of  their  number  for  a  gross  act  of  disobedi- 
ence, he  was  made  to  understand  that  there  were  three  thousand  in  the  camp 
ready  to  stand  by  their  comrade  and  protect  him  from  injury.20 

The  wild  excesses  of  the  soldiery  were  strangely  mingled  with  a  respect  for 
the  forms  of  religion  that  intimated  the  nature  of  the  war  in  which  they  were 
engaged.  Before  entering  into  action  the  whole  army  knelt  down  in  prayer, 
solemnly  invoking  the  protection  of  Heaven  on  its  champions.  After  the 
battle  of  Ohanez,  where  the  mountain-streams  were  so  polluted  with  gore 
that  the  Spaniards  found  it  difficult  to  slake  their  thirst,  they  proceeded  to 
celebrate  the  fete  of  the  Purification  of  the  Virgin.*1  A  procession  was 
formed  to  the  church,  which  was  headed  by  the  marquis  of  Los  Velez  and 

"  "Mas  mugeresque  horn  bres,"  says  Men-  de  los  pechos  de  la  madre,  sacando  leche 

doza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  83.  rnezclada  con  la  sangre  de  las  heridas."   Ibid., 

"  "  En  menos  de  dos  boras  fueron  mtiertas  p.  126. 

mas  de  seis  mil  persons  entre  hombres  y  ""  "  Advirtlendo  al  rnlsmo  tiempo  que  buy 

mugeres ;  y  de  nifios,  desde  uno  basta  diez  tres    mil    hombres   paisanos    i-uyos   piiestos 

afios,    habia    mas  de    <1os  mil   degollados."  sohre  las  armas,  y  decididos  a  perder  la  vida 

Hita,  Guerras  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  126. —  por  salvarle."    Ibid.,  p.  132. 

We  may  hoi*  this  is  an  exaggeration  of  the  "  Hita  has  devoted  one  of  the  most  spirited 

romancer.      Mendoza   says    nothing    of   the  of  bis  romances  to  the  rout  of  Ohanez.     The 

children,  and  reduces  the  slain  to  seven  bun-  opening  stanza  may  show  the  tone  of  it : 

^•.•ffJ^^J^.uelUpor 
el  lugar  cometi6  crueidades  inaud:tas,  y  que 
Upluma  se  resiste  a  transcribir."  Ibid.,  p. 

"'  "  El  niBo  arrartrando  como  pndo  se  llego 
fi  ella,  y  ruovido  del  deseo  de  mamar,  ee  asi6 


CABAL  AGAINST  MONDEJAR.  633 

his  chivalry,  clad  in  complete  mail  and  bearing  white  tapers  in  their  hands. 
Then  came  the  Christian  women  who  had  oeen  rescued  from  captivity, 
dressed,  by  the  general's  command,  in  robes  of  blue  and  white,  as  the  appro- 
priate colours  of  the  Virgin."  The  rear  was  brought  up  by  a  body  of  friars 
and  other  ecclesiastics  who  had  taken  part  in  the  crusade.  The  procession 
passed  slowly  between  the  files  of  the  soldiery,  who  saluted  it  with  volleys 
of  musketry  as  it  entered  the  church,  where  Te  Deum  was  chanted,  and 
the  whole  company  prostrated  themselves  in  adoration  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 
who  had  given  his  enemies  into  their  hands. 

From  this  solemn  act  of  devotion  the  troops  proceeded  to  the  work  of 
pillage,  in  which  the  commander,  unlike  his  rival,  the  marquis  of  Mondejar, 
joined  as  heartily  as  the  meanest  of  his  followers.  The  Moorish  captives, 
to  the  number  of  sixteen  hundred,  among  whom,  we  are  told,  were  many 
young  and  beautiful  maidens,  instead  of  meeting  with  the  protection  they 
had  received  from  the  more  generous  Mondejar,  were  delivered  up  to  the 
licentious  soldiery ;  and  for  a  fortnight  there  reigned  throughout  the  camp 
a  carnival  of  the  wildest  riot  and  debauchery.13  In  this  strange  confusion 
of  the  religious  sentiment  and  of  crimes  most  revolting  to  humanity  we 
see  the  characteristic  features  of  the  crusade.  Nowhere  do  we  find  such  a  free 
range  given  to  the  worst  passions  of  our  nature  as  in  the  wars  of  religion, — 
where  each  party  considers  itself  as  arrayed  against  the  enemies  of  God,  and 
where  the  sanctity  of  the  cause  throws  a  veil  over  the  foulest  transgressions, 
that  hides  their  enormity  from  the  eye  of  the  transgressor. 

While  the  Moriscoes  were  stunned  by  the  fierce  blows  thus  dealt  in  rapid 
succession  by  the  iron-hearted  marquis,  the  mild  and  liberal  policy  of  his  rival 
was  still  more  effectually  reducing  his  enemies  to  obedience.  Disheartened  by 
their  reverses,  exhausted  by  fatigue  and  hunger,  as  they  roved  among  the 
mountains,  without  raiment  to  clothe  or  a  home  to  shelter  them,  the  wretched 
wanderers  came  in  one  after  another  to  sue  for  pardon.  Nearly  all  the  towns 
and  villages  in  the  district  assigned  to  Mondejar,  oppressed  with  like  feelings 
of  despondency,  sent  deputations  to  the  Spanish  quarters,  to  tender  their 
submission  and  to  sue  for  his  protection.  While  these  were  graciously  received, 
the  general  provided  for  the  future  security  of  his  conquests,  by  establishing 
garrisons  in  the  principal  places,  and  by  sending  small  detachments  to  different 
parts,  to  act  as  a  sort  of  armed  police  for  the  maintenance  of  order.  In  this 
way,  says  a  contemporary,  the  tranquillity  of  the  country  was  so  well  established 
that  small  parties  of  ten  or  a  dozen  soldiers  wandered  unmolested  from  one 
end  of  it  to  the  other.14 

Mondejar,  at  the  same  time,  wrote  to  the  king,  to  acquaint  him  with  the 
actual  state  of  things.  He  besought  his  master  to  deal  mercifully  with  the 
conquered  people,  and  thus  afford  him  the  means  of  redeeming  the  pledges  he 
had  given  for  the  favourable  dispositions  of  the  government."  He  made 

"  "Todoa  los  cahaUern*  y  capitanes  en  la  mand6  el   marques   que   las    llevasen    a    1* 

procesion  araiaikM  de  todaa  sn*  annas,  con  iglesia."     Hiu,  Uuerias  de  Granada,  torn.  ii. 

vela*  de  cera  blanra  tn  las  iuano«.  que  se  las  p.  155. 

habian  rnxiado  para  aquel  dU  desde  su  casa,  "  "  For  maneraqueya  estaba  la  Alpuxarra 

y  fcxlaa  la*  Christiana*  en  n.edio  vootida*  de  tan  liana,  que  dlei  y  doce  soldados  iban  d- 

azul  y  blunco,  que  por  sercolores  aphcados  tl  unos  lugares  en  otrus,  sin  hall  ir  quien   )o« 

nueKtra  Scfiora,  mando  el   Marques  que  las  en<  ja-r."      Maruiul,    Uebellon    de    Uranada, 

vintiewn    de  aquella    mantra  a   MI    costa "  torn     1.    p.    49s.--Mendi>xa    fully    confirms 

M.inii'.l,  Kebel|.>n  de  Granada,  t^m.  I.  p  469.  Marmot's  account  of  the  quiet  state  of  the 

*J  "  Trayendose  mucbaa  moras  herm<*as.  country.     Ouerra  de  Grannda,  pp  f6.  97. 

pup*  pasaron  de  treacientaa  las  que  se  tuinnron  •    "  Le  suplicas?  de  KU  parte  los  admit!  «>. 

nilf;  ,v  )  al'iendolas  te»ldo  los  soldado*  u  su  babl?ndo8e  miscricnnllotameiite  o>i>   Ins  qne 

Tultttliad  u  a-  de  quince  dla*.  al  cabu  de  rlliK  no  farscn  muy  i  uljindcs,  para  que  el  pud.t-M; 


534  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

another  communication  to  the  marquis  of  Los  Velez,  urging  that  nobleman 
to  co-operate  with  him  in  the  same  humane  policy,  as  the  one  best  suited  to 
the  interests  of  the  country.  But  his  rival  took  a  very  different  view  of  the 
matter ;  and  he  plainly  told  the  marquis  of  Mondejar  that  it  would  require 
more  than  one  pitched  batt'e  yet  to  creak  the  spirit  of  the  Moriscoes,  and 
that,  since  they  thought  so  differently  on  the  subject,  the  only  way  left  was 
for  each  commander  to  take  the  course  he  judged  best.26 

Unfortunately,  there  were  others — men,  too,  of  influence  at  the  court 
— who  were  of  the  same  stern  way  of  thinking  as  the  marquis  of  Los  Velez ; 
men  acting  under  the  impulse  of  religious  bigotry,  of  implacable  hatred  of  the 
Moslems,  and  of  a  keen  remembrance  of  the  outrages  they  had  committed. 
There  were  others  who,  more  basely,  thought  only  of  themselves  and  of  the 
profit  they  should  derive  from  the  continuance  of  the  war. 

Among  those  of  the  former  class  was  the  president,  Deza;  with  the  members 
of  the  Audience  and  the  civil  authorities  in  Granada.  Always  viewing  the 
proceedings  of  the  captain-general  with  an  unfriendly  eye,  they  loudly  de- 
nounced his  policy  to  the  king,  condemning  his  ill-timed  lenity  to  a  crafty 
race,  who  would  profit  by  it  to  rally  from  their  late  disasters  and  to  form  new 
plans  of  rebellion.  It  was  not  right,  they  said,  that  outrages  like  those  perpe- 
trated against  both  divine  and  human  majesty  should  go  unpunished.*7 
MondejaPs  enemies  did  not  stop  here,  but  accused  him  of  defrauding  the 
exchequer  of  its  dues, — the  fifth  of  the  spoils  of  war  gained  in  batt'e  from  the 
infidel.  Finally,  they  charged  him  with  having  shown  want  of  respect  for 
the  civil  authorities  of  Granada,  in  omitting  to  communicate  to  them  his  plan 
of  operations. 

The  marquis,  advised  by  his  friends  at  court  of  these  malicious  attempts  to 
ruin  his  credit  with  the  government,  despatched  a  confidential  envoy  to 
Madrid,  to  present  his  case  before  his  sovereign  and  to  refute  the  accusations 
of  his  enemies.  The  charge  of  peculation  seems  to  have  made  no  impression 
on  the  mind  of  a  prince  wlio  would  not  have  been  slow  to  suspect  had  there 
been  any  ground  for  suspicion.  There  may  have  been  stronger  grounds  for 
the  complaint  of  want  of  deference  to  the  civil  authorities  of  Granada.  The 
best  vindication  of  his  conduct  in  this  particular  must  be  found  in  the  character 
and  conduct  of  his  adversaries.  From  the  first,  Deza  and  the  municipality 
had  regarded  him  with  jealousy  and  done  all  in  their  power  to  thwart  his  plans 
and  circumscribe  his  authority.  It  is  only  confidence  that  begets  confidence. 
Kondejar,  early  accustomed  to  command,  was  probably  too  impatient  of  oj 'po- 
sition.18 He  chafed  under  the  obstacles  and  annoyances  thrown  in  his  way 
by  his  narrow-minded  rivals.  We  have  not  the  means  before  us  of  coming 
to  a  conclusive  judgment  on  the  merits  of  the  controversy  ;  but  from  what  we 
know  of  the  marquis's  accusers,  with  the  wily  inquisitor  at  their  head,  we 
shall  hardly  err  by  casting  our  sympathies  into  the  sca'e  of  the  frank  and 
generous-hearted  soldier,  who,  while  those  that  thus  censured  him  were  living 
at  ease  in  the  capital,  had  been  fighting  and  following  up  the  enemy  amidst  the 
winter's  tempests  and  across  mountains  covered  with  snow,  and  who  in  little 

cumplir  la  palabra  que  tenia  ya  dada  a  log  tanloa  crimenes  babian  cometido  contra  la 

reducidos,  cntendiendo  ser  aquel  camino  el  Magestid  divina  y  h'imana."  Ibid.,  p.  -»99. 

mas  breve  para  acabar  con  ellog  por  l:i  via  de  "  •'  K\  Marques,"  says  Mendoza,  "htmlre 

equidad."  Mannol,  Rebeliou  de  Granada,  de  estreclia  i  rigurosa  disciplina,  criado  al 

t  -in.  i.  p.  483.  favor  di»  sn  abuelo  i  padre  en  gran  oficio,  Pin 

"  Que  hlciese  por  su  parte  lo  que  pudiese,  igvml  i  !  contradictor,  impaciente  de  tcmar 

porque  ansi  haria  el  de  la  suya."  Ibid.,  p.  compafiia,  comnnicava  sus  ronsejos  consigo 

470.  mismo."  Gu.-rr.i  de  Granada,  p.  103. 

17  "Dexar  sin  eastlgo  exemplar  £  quien 


LICENSE  OF  THE  SOLDIERS.  535 

more  than  a  month,  without  other  aid  than  the  disorderly  levies  of  the  cities, 
had  quelled  a  dangerous  revolt  and  restored  tranquillity  to  the  land. 

Philip  was  greatly  perplexed  by  the  different  accounts  sent  to  him  of  the 
posture  of  Affairs  in  Granada.  >Mondejar>s  agent  suggested  to  the  council  of 
state  that  it  would  be  well  if  his  majesty  would  do  as  his  father,  Charles  the 
Fifth,  would  have  done  in  the  like  case, — repair  himself  to  the  scene  of  action, 
and  observe  the  actual  state  of  things  with  nis  own  eyes.  But  the  suggestion 
found  no  favour  with  the  minister,  Espinosa,  who  affected  to  hold  the  Moris- 
coes  in  such  contempt  that  a  measure  of  this  kind,  he  declared,  would  be 
derogatory  to  the  royal  dignity.  A  better  course  would  be  for  his  majesty  to 
send  some  one  as  his  representative,  clothed  with  full  powers  to  take  charge 
of  the  war,  and  of  a  rank  so  manifestly  pre-eminent  that  neither  of  the  two 
commanders  now  in  the  field  could  take  umbrage  at  his  appointment  over 
their  heads. 

This  suggestion,  as  the  politic  minister  doubtless  had  foreseen,  was  much 
more  to  Philip's  taste  than  that  of  his  going  in  person  to  the  scene  of  strife ; 
for,  however  little  he  might  shrink  from  any  amount  of  labour  in  the  clo.-et, 
lie  had,  as  we  have  seen,  a  sluggish  temperament,  that  indisposed  him  to 
much  bodily  exertion.  The  plan  of  sending  some  one  to  represent  the  monarch 
at  the  seat  of  war  was  accordingly  approved  ;  and  the  person  selected  for  this 
responsible  office  was  Philip's  bastard  brother,  Don  John  of  Austria.19 

Rumours  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  cabinet  at  Madrid,  reaching  Granada 
from  time  to  time,  were  followed  by  the  most  mischievous  consequences.  The 
troo|»s,  in  particular,  had  no  sooner  learned  that  the  marquis  of  Mondejar 
was  about  to  be  superseded  in  the  command  than  they  threw  off  the  little 
restraint  he  had  been  hitherto  able  to  impose  on  them,  and  abandoned  them- 
selves to  the  violence  and  rapine  to  which  they  were  so  well  disposed,  and 
which  seemed  now  to  be  countenanced  by  the  president  and  the  authorities  in 
Granada.  The  very  patrols  whom  Mondejar  nad  commissioned  to  keep  the 

|>eace  were  the  first  to  set  the  example  of  violating  it  They  invaded  the 
lamlets  and  houses  they  were  sent  to  protect,  plundered  them  of  their  con- 
tents, and  committed  the  foulest  outrages  on  their  inmates.  The  garrisons 
in  the  principal  towns  imitated  their  example,  carrying  on  their  depredations, 
indeed,  on  a  still  larger  scale.  Even  the  capital,  under  the  very  eyes  of  the 
count  of  Tendilla,  sent  out  detachments  of  soldiers,  who  with  ruthless  violence 
trampled  down  the  green  plantations  in  the  valleys,  sacked  the  villages,  and 
dragged  away  the  inhabitants  from  the  midst  of  their  blazing  dwellings  into 
captivity.3* 

It  was  with  the  deepest  indignation  that  the  marquis  of  Mondejar  saw  the 
fine  web  of  policy  he  had  been  so  busily  contriving  thus  wantonly  rent  asunder 
by  the  very  hands  that  should  have  protected  it.  He  now  longed  as  ardently 
AS  any  in  the  province  for  the  coming  of  some  one  intrusted  with  authority  to 
enforce  obedience  from  the  turbulent  soldiery,— a  task  of  still  greater  difficulty 
than  the  conquest  of  the  enemy.  While  such  was  the  state  of  things,  an 
event  occurred  in  Granada  which,  in  its  general  character,  may  remind  one  of 
some  of  the  most  atrocious  scenes  of  the  French  Revolution. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  troubles  the  president  had  caused  a  number  of 
Moriscoes,  amounting  to  not  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty,  it  is  said,  to  be 

"  Mendoza.  Oueira  de  Granada,  p.  115,  et  •"'  Marmot.  Hebelion  de  Granada,  tom.  ii.  p. 

wq. — M  annul,  Rebelion  de  Grunada,  tom.  I.  8.  et  «eq.  —  Mendo/.a,  Gutrra  de  Granada,  pp. 

pD.  511-513.— Mlnlana,  HistorU  de  Espafia.  97.    12*.— Miuiana,   HUturla    «!<>    Knpufia,   p. 

?.   376.— Cahn-ia,   Klllpe  Scgundo,   pp.   573,  378.— Cabrera,  Flllpe  Segundu,  pp.  57i,  576. 
74. 


536  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

arrested  and  thrown  into  the  prison  of  the  Chancery.  Certain  trea  -enable 
designs,  of  which  they  had  been  suspected  for  a  long  time,  furnished  the 
feeble  pretext  for  this  violent  proceeding.  Some  few,  indeed,  were  imprisoned 
for  debt.  But  the  greater  number  were  wealthy  men,  who  enjoyed  the 
highest  consideration  among  their  countrymen,  'they  had  been  suffered  to 
remain  in  confinement  during  the  whole  of  the  campaign,  thus  serving,  in 
some  sort,  as  hostages  for  the  good  behaviour  of  the  people  of  the  Albaicin. 

Early  in  March,  a  rumour  was  circulated  that  the  mountaineers,  headed  by 
Aben-Humeya,  whose  father  and  brother  were  among  the  prisoners,  were 
prepared  to  make  a  descent  on  the  city  by  night,  and,  with  the  assistance  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Albaicin,  to  begin  the  work  of  destruction  bv  assaulting 
the  prison  of  the  Chancery  and  liberating  their  countrymen.  This  report, 
readily  believed,  caused  the  greatest  alarm  among  the  citizens,  boding  no 
good  to  the  unhappy  prisoners.  On  the  evening  of  the  seventeenth,  Deza 
received  intelligence  that  lights  had  been  seen  on  some  of  the  neighbouring 
mountains,  which  seemed  to  be  of  the  nature  of  signals,  as  they  were  answered 
by  corresponding  lights  in  some  of  the  houses  in  the  Albaicin.  The  assault, 
it  was  said,  would  doubtless  be  made  that  very  night.  The  president  appears 
to  have  taken  no  measures  for  the  protection  of  the  city.  But  on  receiving 
the  information  he  at  once  communicated  it  to  the  alcayde  of  the  prison  and 
directed  him  to  provide  for  the  security  of  his  prisoners.  The  alcayde  lost  no 
time  in  gathering  his  friends  about  him,  and  caused  arms  to  be  distributed 
among  a  body  of  Spaniards,  of  whom  there  appears  to  have  been  a  consider- 
able number  confined  in  the  place  at  this  time.  Thus  prepared,  they  all 
remained,  as  in  silent  expectation  of  some  great  event. 

At  length,  some  time  before  midnight,  the  guard  posted  in  the  Campana, 
one  of  the  towers  of  the  Alhambra,  struck  the  bell  with  a  succession  of  rapid 
strokes,  such  as  were  used  to  give  an  alarm.  In  a  moment  every  Spaniard 
in  the  pri.-.on  was  on  his  feet ;  and,  the  alcayde  throwing  open  the  doors  and 
leading  the  way,  they  fell  at  once  on  their  defenceless  victims,  confined  in 
another  quarter  of  the  building.  As  many  of  these  were  old  and  infirm,  and 
most  of  them  inoffensive  citizens,  whose  quiet  way  of  life  had  little  fitted  them 
for  brawl  or  battle,  and  who  were  now  destitute  of  arms  of  any  kind,  they 
seemed  to  be  as  easy  victims  as  the  sheep  into  whose  fold  the  famishing  wolves 
have  broken  in  the  absence  of  the  shepherd.  Yet  they  did  not  give  up  their 
lives  without  an  effort  to  save  them.  Despair  lent  them  strength,  and, 
snatching  up  chairs,  benches,  or  any  other  article  of  furniture  in  their  cells, 
they  endeavoured  to  make  good  their  defence  against  the  assailants.  Some, 
exerting  a  vigour  which  despair  only  could  have  given,  succeeded  in  wrench- 
ing stones  from  the  walls  or  iron  bars  from  the  windows,  and  thus  supplied 
themselves  with  the  means  not  merely  of  defence,  but  of  doing  some  mischief 
to  the  assailants  in  their  turn.  They  fought,  in  short,  like  men  who  are 
fighting  for  their  lives.  Some,  however,  losing  all  hope  of  escape,  piled  to- 
gether a  heap  of  mats,  bedding,  and  other  combustibles,  and,  kindling  them 
with  their  torches,  threw  themselves  into  the  names,  intending  in  this  way  to 
set  fire  to  the  building  and  to  perish  in  one  general  conflagration  with  their 
murderers.31  But  the  flames  they  had  kindled  were  soon  extinguished  in 
their  own  blood,  and  their  mangled  remains  were  left  to  blacken  among  the 
cinders  of  their  funeral  pile. 

"  "Otros,    cotno   dese-perados,    juntando  carcel  y  la  Audiencta,  pereciesen  todos  los 

estor  is,  tascos  y  otras  co«as  secas,  que  pu-  que  estaban  dentro."    Marmol,  Rebelion  de 

dlecen  arder.  Re  metian  entre  sus  meswas  Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  517. 
liama;,  y  las  avivaban,  para  que  ardiendo  la 


MASSACRE  IN  GRANADA.  £37 

For  two  hours  the  deadly  conflict  between  parties  so  unequally  matched 
had  continued  ;  the  one  shouting  its  old  war-cry  of  "  Santiago,  as  if  fighting 
on  an  open  field  ;  the  other,  if  we  may  take  the  Castilian  account,  calling  on 
their  prophet  to  come  to  their  assistance.  But  no  power,  divine  or  human, 
interposed  in  their  behalf ;  and,  notwithstanding  the  wild  uproar  caused  by 
men  engaged  in  a  mortal  struggle,  by  the  sound  of  heavy  blows  and  falling 
missiles,  by  the  yells  of  the  victors  and  the  dying  moans  and  agonies  of  the 
vanquished,  no  noise  to  give  token  of  what  was  going  on — if  we  are  to  credit 
the  chroniclers — found  its  way  beyond  the  walls  of  the  prison.  Even  the 
guard  stationed  in  the  court-yard,  we  are  assured,  were  not  roused  from  their 
slumbers.1'-1 

At  length  some  rumour  of  what  was  passing  reached  the  city,  where  the 
story  ran  that  the  Moriscoes  were  in  arms  against  their  keepers  and  would 
soon  probably  get  possession  of  the  gaol.  This  report  was  enough  for  the 
people,  who,  roused  by  the  alarm-bell,  were  now  in  a  state  of  excitement  that 
disposed  them  to  any  deed  of  violence.  Snatching  up  their  weapons,  they 
rushed,  or  rather  flew,  like  vultures  snuffing  the  carrion  from  afar,  to  the 
scene  of  slaughter.  Strengthened  by  this  reinforcement,  the  assailants  in  the 
prison  soon  completed  the  work  of  death  ;  and  when  the  morning  light  broke 
through  the  grated  windows  it  disclosed  the  full  extent  of  the  tragedy.  Of 
all  the  Moriscoes  only  two  had  escaped, — the  father  and  brother  of  Aben- 
Humeya,  over  whom  a  guard  had  been  especially  set.  Five  Spaniards  were 
slain,  and  seventeen  wounded, — showing  the  fierce  resistance  made  by  the 
Moslems,  though  destitute  of  arms.3* 

Such  was  the  massacre  in  the  prison  of  the  Chancery  of  Granada,  which,  as 
already  intimated,  nowhere  finds  a  more  fitting  parallel  than  in  the  murders 
perpetrated  on  a  still  larger  scale  during  the  French  Revolution,  in  the  famous 
massacres  of  September.  But  the  miscreants  who  perpetrated  these  enormi- 
ties were  the  tools  of  a  sanguinary  faction,  that  was  regarded  with  horror  by 
every  friend  of  humanity  in  the  country.  In  Granada,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
was  the  government  itself,  or  at  least  those  of  highest  authority  in  it,  who 
were  responsible  for  the  deed.  For  who  can  doubt  that  a  proceeding,  the 
success  of  which  depended  on  the  concurrence  of  so  many  circumstances  as 
to  preclude  the  idea  of  accident,  must  have  been  countenanced,  if  not  con- 
trived, by  those  who  had  the  direction  of  affairs  ? 

Another  feature,  not  the  least  striking  in  the  case,  is  the  apathy  shown  by 
contemporary  writers, — men  who  on  more  than  one  occasion  have  been  willing 
to  testily  their  sympathy  for  the  sufferings  of  the  Moriscoes.  One  of  these 
chroniclers,  after  telling  the  piteous  tale,  coolly  remarks  that  it  was  a  good 
thing  for  the  alcayde  of  the  prison,  who  pocketed  a  large  sum  of  money  wnich 
had  been  found  on  the  persons  of  the  wealthy  Moors.  Another,  after  noticing 
the  imputation  of  an  intended  rising  on  the  part  of  the  prisoners  as  in  the 
highest  degree  absurd,  dismisses  the  subject  by  telling  us  that  "  the  Moriscoes 
were  a  weak,  scatter-brained  race,  with  just  wit  enough  to  bring  on  them- 
selves such  a  mi-thap" — as  he  pleasantly  terms  the  massacre.*4  The  govern- 
ment of  Madrid  received  the  largest  share  of  the  price  of  blood.  For  when 
the  wives  and  families  of  the  deceased  claimed  the  inheritance  of  their  estates, 
in  some  cases  very  large,  their  claims  were  rejected — on  what  grounds  we 

"  Marmot,  Rebellun  de  Granada.  uM  supra.  general,  torn.  I.  p.  744. 

"  "  Lo«  m*taron  ii  todos,  sin  dexar  lu.mbre  "  "  Havia  en  ello*  culpadofl  en  platl<  as  i 

&  vlda,  slno  fueron  to*  doe  que  <|i-fi  mlio  la  demonvtradone*.  i  todun  en  deseo;  gente 

Ktiardia  que  tenian."  Alarmul,  Kcb-ilun  de  flaca,  livi.uia.  Inhabit  para  tod",  lino  para 

Granada,  lorn.  1.  p.  517. — 8er  alao  Metxlora,  oar  ixixi.ii  a  MI  disvi-ntura."  ilenduia, 

Uutrra  de  Granada,  p.  122 ;  Herrera,  iliiturU  i.urr  a  de  Grai.ada,  p  122. 


538  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

are  not;  told — by  the  alcaldes  of  the  Court  of  Audience  in  Granada,  and 
the  estates  were  confiscated  to  the  use  of  the  crown.  Such  a  decision,  remarks 
a  chronicler,  may  lead  one  to  infer  that  the  prisoners  had  been  guilty  of  even 
more  heinous  offences  than  those  commonly  imputed  to  them.35  The  impartial 
reader  will  probably  come  to  a  very  different  conclusion  ;  and,  since  it  was  the 
opulent  burghers  who  were  thus  marked  out  for  destruction,  he  may  naturally 
infer  that  the  baser  passion  of  avarice  mingled  with  the  feelings  of  fear  and 
hatred  in  bringing  about  the  massacre. 

However  this  may  be,  so  foul  a  deed  placed  an  iniy  ass-able  gulf  between  the 
Spaniards  and  the  Moriscoes.  It  taught  the  latter  that  they  could  no  longer 
rely  on  their  perfidious  enemy,  who,  while  he  was  holding  out  to  them  one 
hand  in  token  of  reconciliation,  was  raising  the  other  to  smite  them  to  the 
ground.  A  cry  of  vengeance  ran  through  all  the  borders  of  the  Alpujarras. 
Again  the  mountaineers  rose  in  arms.  They  cut  oft  stragglers,  waylaid  the 
patrols  whom  Mondejar  had  distributed  throughout  the  country,  and  even 
menaced  the  military  posts  of  the  Spaniards.  On  some  occasions  they  encoun- 
tered the  latter  with  success  in  the  open  field,  and  in  one  instance  defeated 
and  slew  a  large  body  of  Christians  as  they  were  returning  from  a  foray  laden 
with  plunder.  Finally,  they  invited  Abeii-Humeya  to  return  arid  resume  the 
command,  promising  to  stand  by  him  to  the  last.  The  chief  obeyed  the  call, 
and,  leaving  his  retreat  in  the  Sierra  Nevada,  again  took  possession  of  his 
domains,  and,  planting  his  blood-red  flag  on  his  native  hills,36  soon  gathered 
around  him  a  more  formidable  host  than  before.  He  even  affected  a  greater 
pomp  than  he  had  before  displayed.  He  surrounded  himself  with  a  body- 
guard of  four  hundred  arquebusiers.37  He  divided  his  army  into  battalions 
and  companies,  and  endeavoured  to  introduce  into  it  something  of  the  organi- 
zation and  tactics  of  the  Spaniards.38  He  sent  his  brother  Abdallah  to  Con- 
stantinople, to  represent  his  condition  to  the  sultan  and  to  implore  him  to 
make  common  cause  with  his  Moslem  brethren  in  the  Peninsula.  In  short, 
rebellion  assumed  a  more  audacious  front  than  at  any  time  during  the  pre- 
vious campaign  ;  and  the  Christians  of  Andalusia  and  Granada  looked  with 
the  greatest  anxiety  for  the  coming  of  a  commander  possessed  of  sufficient 
authority  to  infuse  harmony  into  the  counsels  of  the  rival  chiefs,  to  enforce 
obedience  from  the  turbulent  soldiery,  and  to  bring  the  war  to  a  speedy  con- 
clusion. 

35  "  Las  culpas  de  los  qnales  dobieron  ser  mostrava  el  jngar  de  la  persona  del  Rei  a 

mayores  de   lo  que  aqui  se  esc'ibe,   porque  nianera    de    Guion."     Mendoza,   Gutrra    de 

despues  pidiendo  la  i  mtigores  y  hijos  de  los  Granada,  p.  118. 

muertos  sus  dotes  y  haciendas  ante  los  al-  I7  "Para  segurMad    de   su    persona  pago 

caldes  del  crimen  de  aquella  Audiencia,  y  arcabuceria  de  guardia,   que    lue    creciendo 

ealiendo  el  fiscal  a  la  causa,  se  formo  proceso  hasta    quatrocientus   bombres."      Ibid.,    ubi 

en  forma ;  y  por  sentencias  y  revista  fueron  supra. 

condenados,  y  aplicados  todos  sus  bienes  al  *•  "Sigui6  nuestra   orden  de  Guerra,  re- 

Keal  flsco."    Marmot,  Kebelion  de  Granada,  parti6  la  gente  por  esquadras,  jinl61a    en 

torn.  i.  p.  517.  companias,  nombro  Capitanes."    Ibid.,  ubi 

M  "Levant6  un  Estandarte  bermejo,  que  supra. 


DON    JOHN    OF   AUSTRIA. 


DON  JOHN  OF  AUSTRIA.  539 


CHAPTER  V. 

REBELLION  OF  THE   MORISCOES. 

Early  Life  of  Don  John  of  Austria— Acknowledged  by  Philip— His  Thirst  for  Distinction  -His 
Cruise  in  the  Mediterranean — Made  Commander-in-Chief — The  War  renewed — Removal  of 
the  Moriscoes. 

1569. 

As  Don  John  of  Austria  is  to  occupy  an  important  place,  not  only  in  the 
war  with  the  Moriscoes,  but  in  some  of  the  most  memorable  scenes  in  the 
remainder  of  this  history,  it  will  be  proper  to  acquaint  the  reader  with  what 
is  known  of  the  earlier  part  of  his  career.  Yet  it  is  precisely  over  thi>  part  of 
it  that  a  veil  of  mystery  hangs,  which  no  industry  of  the  historian  has  been 
able  wholly  to  remove. 

It  seems  probable  that  he  was  born  in  the  year  1547.1  The  twenty-fourth 
of  February  is  assigned  by  common  consent— I  hardly  know  on  what  ground 
— as  the  day  of  his  birth.  It  was  also,  it  may  be  remembered,  the  birthday 
of  his  father,  Charles  the  Fifth.  His  mother,  Barbara  Blomberg,  was  an 
inhabitant  of  Ratisbon,  in  Germany.  She  is  described  as  a  beautiful  young 
girl,  who  attracted  the  emperor's  notice  several  years  after  the  death  of  the 
Empress  Isabella.7  The  Spanish  chroniclers  claim  a  noble  descent  for  Bar- 
bara.1 Indeed,  it  would  go  hard  but  a  Spaniard  could  make  out  a  pedigree 
for  his  hero.  Yet  there  are  several  circumstances  which  suggest  the  idea 
that  the  mother  of  Don  John  must  have  occupied  a  very  humble  position. 

Subsequently  to  her  connection  with  Charles  she  married  a  German  named 
Kegell,  on  whom  the  emperor  bestowed  the  om'ce  of  commissary.4  The  only 
other  notice,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  which  Charles  took  of  his  former  mistress, 
was  the  settlement  on  her  of  a  yearly  pension  of  two  hundred  florins,  which 
he  made  the  day  before  his  death.4  It  was  certainly  not  a  princely  legacy, 
and  infers  that  the  object  of  it  must  have  been  in  a  humble  condition  in  life 
to  have  rendered  it  important  to  her  comfort.  We  are  led  to  the  same  con- 
clusion by  the  mystery  thrown  around  the  birth  of  the  child,  forming  so 
strong  a  contrast  to  the  publicity  given  to  the  birth  of  the  emperor's  natural 
daughter,  Margaret  of  Parma,  whose  mother  could  boast  that  in  her  veins 
Uowed  some  of  the  best  blood  of  the  Netherlands. 

For  three  years  the  boy,  who  received  the  name  of  Geronimo,  remained 

1  This,  which  I*  two  years  later  than  the  Mundos.  No.  3. 

date  commonly  assigned  by  historian*.  -  ••un  *  Vandfrliammen.  alluding    to  the  doubts 

to  be  settled  by  the  n-search.  s  of  Lafuente.  thrown  on  the  rank  of  his  li.-m's  mother,  cou- 

(See   HUtorla    general   de  Espana  (M.idrid.  soles  hiiusr-lf  with  the  reflection  that.  If  there 

I  -i-t  •.  tom.  xiii.  p.  437,  note.)    Among  other  was  any  deficiency  In  this  particular,  uo  one 

evidence  adduced  by  the  historian  is  that  <>f  can  deny  tint  it  was  mure  than  compensated 

a  medal  struck   in   honour  of    Don  John's  by  the  proud  origin   of  her  Imperial  lover, 

victory  at  l^epanto,  in  the  year  1671.  the  in-  Don  -luan  de  Austria,  fol.  3. 

scription  on  which  expn  ssly  states  that  he  '  Lafuente,  Hist,  de  Espann,' tom.  xili.  p. 

was  twenty-four  years  of  age.  432,  note. 

"  Vanderhatnmen,   iKin   Juan  dc  Austria,  "•  (iachard,   Retralt"   rt   Mort  de  Charles- 

fol.  3.— Villafane,  Vida  y  Virtudes  de  D-.fta  Quint,  torn.  II.  p.  506.— In  a  private  interview 

Maud  .Irna  de  Ulloa  (Salamanca.  1722),  p.  M.  wiili   Luis  Quixada,  the  evening  bef>re   bis 

--  See  also  Lafuente,  Hisl»riade  K-p.tna.tom.  death,  the  emperor  gave  him  six  hundred  gold 

xiii.  p.  433.    This  List  hixtoil.ni  has  mnii<-  the  crowns    to    purchase    the    above-mentioned 

parentage  of  John  of  Austria  the  subject  of  a  (tension, 
particular  discuMion  in  the  lievlxtade  Am  boa 


640  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

under  his  mother's  roof,  when,  by  Charles's  order,  he  was  placed  in  the  hands 
of  a  Fleming  named  Marti,  a  musician  in  the  imperial  band.  This  man  trans- 
ferred his  residence  to  Leganes,  a  village  in  Castile,  not  far  from  Madrid. 
The  instrument  still  exists  that  contains  the  agreement  by  which  Mam,  after 
acknowledging  the  receipt  of  a  hundred  florins,  engages  for  fifty  florins 
annually  to  bring  up  the  child  with  as  much  care  as  if  he  were  his  own.*  It 
•was  a  moderate  allowance,  certainly,  for  the  nurture  of  one  who  was  some  day 
to  come  before  the  world  as  the  son  of  an  emperor.  It  showed  that  Charles 
was  fond  of  a  bargain, — though  at  the  expense  of  his  own  offspring. 

No  instruction  was  provided  for  the  child  except  such  as  he  could  pick  up 
from  the  parish  priest,  who,  as  he  knew  as  little  as  Maffi  did  of  the  secret  of 
Geronimo  s  birth,  probably  bestowed  no  more  attention  on  him  than  on  the 
other  lads  of  the  village.  And  we  cannot  doubt  that  a  boy  of  his  lively  temper 
must  have  preferred  passing  his  days  in  the  open  fields,  to  confinement  in  the 
house  and  listening  to  the  homilies  of  his  teacher.  As  he  grew  in  years,  ha 
distinguished  himself  above  his  young  companions  by  his  courage.  He  took 
the  lead  in  all  their  rustic  sports,  and  gave  token  of  his  belligerent  propen- 
sities by  making  war  on  the  birds  in  the  orchards,  on  whom  he  did  great 
execution  with  his  little  cross-bow.1 

Four  years  were  passed  in  this  hardy  way  of  life,  which,  if  it  did  nothing 
else  for  the  boy,  had  the  advantage  of  strengthening  his  constitution  for  the 
serious  trials  of  manhood,  when  the  emperor  thought  it  was  time  to  p'ace  him 
in  a  situation  where  he  would  receive  a  better  training  than  could  be  found  in 
the  cottage  of  a  peasant.  He  was  accordingly  transferred  to  the  protection  of 
Luis  Quixada,  Charles's  trusty  major-domo,  who  received  the  child  into  his 
fami'y  at  Villagarcia,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Valladolid.  The  emperor 
showed  his  usual  discernment  in  the  selection  of  a  guardian  for  his  son. 
Quixada,  with  his  zeal  for  the  faith,  his  loyalty,  his  nice  sentiment  of  honour, 
was  the  very  type  of  the  Castiiian  hidalgo  in  his  best  form  ;  while  he  possessed 
all  those  knightly  qualities  which  made  him  the  perfect  mirror  of  the  antique 
chivalry.  His  wife,  Dona  Magdalena  de  Ulloa,  sister  of  the  marquis  of  Mota, 
•was  a  lady  yet  more  illustrious  for  her  virtues  than  f  r  her  rank.  She  had 
naturally  the  most  to  do  with  the  training  of  the  boy's  earlier  years  ;  and 
under  her  discipline  it  was  scarcely  possible  that  one  of  so  generous  a  nature 
should  fail  to  acquire  the  courtly  breeding  and  refinement  of  taste  which  shed 
a  lustre  over  the  stern  character  of  the  soldier. 

However  much  Quixada  may  have  reposed  on  his  wife's  discretion,  he  did 
not  think  proper  to  try  it,  in  the  present  instance,  by  communicating  to  her 
the  secret  of  Geronimos  birth.  He  spoke  of  him  as  the  son  of  a  great  man, 
his  dear  friend,  expressing  his  desire  that  his  wife  would  receive  him  as  her 
own  child.  This  was  the  less  difficult,  as  Magdalena  had  no  children  of  her 
own.  The  solicitude  shown  by  her  lord  may  possibly  have  suggested  to  her  the 
idea  that  the  boy  was  more  nearly  related  to  him  than  he  chose  to  acknow- 
ledge,— in  short,  that  he  was  the  offspring  of  some  intrigue  of  Quixada  previous 
to  his  marriage.8  But  an  event  which  took  place  not  long  after  the  child's 
introduction  into  the  family  is  said  to  have  awakened  in  her  suspicions  of  an 
origin  more  in  accordance  with  the  truth.  The  house  at  Villagarcia  took  fire  ; 
and,  as  it  was  in  the  night,  the  flames  gained  such  head  that  they  were  not 

•  This    interesting  document   was    found  una  bsllestilla  a  los  paxaros."    Vamlerbam- 

among  the  testamentary  papers  of  Charles  the  men,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  10. 

Fifth.      A   copy  of  it    has  been    preserved  "  "  Y  puede  ser  llpgasefisospecliar,  si  acaso 

among  the  manuscripts  of  Cardinal  (Jranvelle.  tendria  por  I'adre  &  su  Esposo."     Villafafie, 

Papers  d'fitat,  torn.  iv.  pp.  499,  500.  Vida  de  Magdalena  de  Ulloa,  p.  38. 

'  "  Gastara  bucna  pane  del  dia  en  tirar  COD 


DON  JOHN  OF  AUSTRIA.  641 

discovered  till  they  burst  through  the  windows.  The  noise  in  the  street 
roused  the  sleeping  inmates  ;  and  Quixada,  thinking  first  of  his  charge,  sprang 
from  his  bed,  and,  rushing  into  Geronimo's  apartment,  snatched  up  the 
affrighted  child  and  bore  him  in  his  arms  to  a  place  of  safety.  He  then 
re-entered  the  house,  and,  forcing  his  way  through  the  smoke  and  flames, 
succeeded  iu  extricating  his  wife  from  her  perilous  situation.  The  sacrifice  of 
love  to  loyalty  is  panegyrized  by  a  Castilian  chronicler  as  "  a  rare  achievement, 
far  transcending  any  act  of  heroism  of  which  antiquity  could  boast." 9  Whether 
Mag'lalena  looked  with  the  same  complacency  on  the  proceeding  we  are  not 
informed.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  the  interest  shown  by  her  husband  iu 
the  child  had  no  power  to  excite  any  feeling  of  jealousy  in  her  bosom.  On  the 
contrary,  it  seemed  rather  to  strengthen  her  own  interest  in  the  boy,  whose 
uncommon  beauty  and  affectionate  disposition  soon  called  forth  all  the  tender- 
ness of  her  nature.  She  took  him  to  ner  heart,  and  treated  him  with  a'l  the 
fondness  of  a  mother, — a  feeling  warmly  reciprocated  by  the  object  rf  it,  who, 
to  the  day  of  his  death,  regarded  her  with  the  truest  feelings  of  filial  love  and 
reverence. 

In  1558,  the  year  after  his  retirement  to  Yuste,  Charles  the  Fifth,  whether 
from  a  wish  to  see  his  son,  or,  as  is  quite  as  probable,  in  the  hope  of  making 
Quixada  more  contented  with  his  situation,  desired  his  major-domo  to  bring 
his  family  to  the  adjoining  village  of  Cuacos.  While  there,  the  young  Geronirno 
must  doubtless  sometimes  have  accompanied  his  mother,  as  he  called  JJofia 
Magdalena,  in  her  visits  to  the  monastery.  Indeed,  his  biographer  assures 
us  that  the  sight  of  him  operated  like  a  panacea  on  the  emperor's  health.14 
We  find  no  allusion  to  him,  however,  in  any  of  the  letters  from  Yuste  ;  and, 
if  he  did  go  there,  we  may  be  sure  that  Charles  had  sufficient  control  over 
himself  not  to  betray,  by  any  indiscreet  show  of  fondness,  his  relationship  to 
the  child.11  One  tradition  respecting  him  lingered  to  a  late  period  among  the 
people  of  Cuacos,  where  the  peasants,  it  is  said,  pelted  him  with  stones  as  he 
was  robbing  their  orchards.  It  was  the  first  lesson  in  war  of  the  future  hero 
of  Lepanto. 

There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  boy  witnessed  the  obsequies  of  the 
emperor.  One  who  was  present  tells  us  that  he  saw  him  there,  dressed  in  full 
mourning,  and  standing  by  the  side  of  Quixada,  for  whose  page  he  passed 
among  the  brethren  of  the  convent.12  We  may  well  believe  that  a  spectacle 
so  solemn  and  affecting  as  these  funeral  ceremonies  must  have  sunk  deep  into 
his  young  mind,  and  heightened  the  feelings  of  veneration  with  which  he 
always  regarded  the  memory  of  his  father.  It  was  perhaps  the  appearance  of 
Geronimo  as  one  of  the  mourners  that  first  suggested  the  idea  of  his  relation- 
ship to  the  emperor.  We  find  a  letter  from  Quixada  to  Philip,  dated  soon 

*  "  Accion  singular  y  rara,  y  que  dexa  atras  fol.  10. 

quant**  la  Antiguedad  celebra  pur  pereeri-  "  Indeed,  Signenza.  who  may  have  had  It 

nas."    Vanderhaminen,  IVon  Juan  de  Aif-tri*,  from  the  monks  of  Yn.«te,  tells  us  that  the 

ful.  31. — According  to  anotiier  biographer,  two  "bov  Mjmetimes  was  casually  seen   1>y   the 

fires  occurred  to  Quixada,  one  In  VllUigarria  emporor,   who    was   careful  to  maintain  his 

aixl  one    In  Valladolld.      On  each  of  these  usual  it-nerve  and  <lignlni-d  demeanour,  so  that 

occasions  the  bouse  was  destroyed,  but  his  no  one  could   SU-IMCI   his  secret     Once  or 

ward  was  saved,  borne  off  by  tlie  pixxl  knight  twice,"  add«  the  .loonyniite  failr  r.  "the  lad 

In  his  arms.    ( Villufai'ie.  Vlda  de  Magdalena  rnt<red  the   apartment  of   his  father,   who 

de  I/Una,  pp.  44,  S3.)    The  coincidences  are  doubtless  spoke  to  him   as  be  would  have 

too  much  opposed  to  the  doctrine  of  chances  spoken  to  any  other  boy."    Ilistoria  de  1m 

to  commend  themselves  readily  to  our  faith.  Ord--n  de  San  Oeronlmo.  torn.  III.  p.  206. 

Vand-rhainmen'ii  reflection  wa»  drawn  forth  "  Relation  d'un  Rellgieux  de  Yuste,  «p. 

by  the  second  fire,  the  only  one  he  notices.  Gacbard,  K>  traite  et  ilort  de  Charle»-yuiut, 

It  applies,  however,  equally  well  (o  both.  turn.  li.  p.  65. 

**  VamlertuuiJiaen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria, 


542  REBELLION"  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

after,  in  which  he  speaks  of  rumours  on  the  subject  as  current  in  the 
neighbourhood.13 

Among  the  testamentary  papers  of  Charles  was  found  one  in  an  envelope 
sealed  with  his  private  seal,  ana  addressed  to  his  son,  Philip,  or,  in  case  of  his 
death,  to  his  grandson,  Carlos,  or  whoever  might  be  in  possession  of  the  crown. 
It  was  dated  in  1554,  before  his  retirement  to  Yuste.  It  acknowledged  his 
connection  with  a  German  maiden,  and  the  birth  of  a  son  named  Geronimo. 
The  mother's  name  was  not  given.  He  pointed  out  the  quarter  where  infor- 
mation could  be  got  respecting  the  child,  who  was  then  living  with  the  violin- 
player  at  Leganes.  He  expressed  the  wish  that  he  should  be  trained  up  for 
the  ecclesiastical  profession,  and  that,  when  old  enough,  he  should  enter  a 
convent  of  one  of  the  reformed  orders.  Charles  would  not,  however,  have  any 
constraint  put  on  the  inclinations  of  the  boy,  and  in  case  of  his  preferring  a 
secular  life  he  would  have  a  suitable  estate  settled  on  him  in  the  kingdom  of 
Naples,  with  an  annual  income  of  between  thirty  and  forty  thousand  ducats. 
Whatever  course  Geronimo  might  take,  the  emperor  requested  that  he  should 
receive  all  the  honour  and  consideration  due  to  him  as  his  son.  His  letter 
concluded  by  saying  that,  although  for  obvious  reasons  he  had  not  inserted 
these  directions  in  his  will,  he  wished  them  to  be  held  of  the  same  validity  as 
if  he  had.14  Philip  seems  from  the  first  to  have  so  regarded  them,  though,  as 
he  was  then  in  Flanders,  he  resolved  to  postpone  the  public  acknowledgment 
of  his  brother  till  his  return  to  Spain. 

Meanwhile,  the  rumours  in  regard  to  Geronimo's  birth  had  reached  the  ears 
of  the  regent,  Joanna.  With  natural  curiosity,  she  ordered  her  secretary  to 
write  to  Quixada  and  ascertain  the  tmth  of  the  report.  The  trusty  hidalgo 
endeavoured  to  evade  the  question  by  saying  that  some  years  since  a  friend 
of  his  had  intrusted  a  boy  to  his  care,  but,  as  no  allusion  whatever  was  made 
to  the  child  in  the  emperor's  will,  the  story  of  their  relationship  to  each  other 
should  be  treated  as  idle  gossip.15  The  reply  did  not  satisfy  Joanna,  who 
seems  to  have  settled  it  in  her  own  mind  that  the  story  was  well  founded.  She 
took  an  occasion  soon  after  to  write  to  Dona  Magdalena,  during  her  husband's 
absence  from  home,  expressing  her  wish  that  the  lady  would  bring  the  boy 
where  she  could  see  him.  The  place  selected  was  at  an  auto  defe  about  to  be 
celebrated  in  Valladolid.  Dona  Magdalena,  reluctant  as  she  was,  felt  herself 
compelled  to  receive  the  request  from  such  a  source  as  a  command  which  she 
had  no  right  to  disobey.  One  might  have  thought  that  a  ceremony  so  heart- 
rending and  appalling  in  its  character  as  an  auto  de  fe  would  be  the  last  to 
be  selected  for  the  indulgence  of  any  feeling-  of  a  light  and  joyous  nature. 
But  the  Spaniard  of  that  and  of  a  much  later  age  regarded  this  as  the 
sweetest  sacrifice  that  could  be  offered  to  the  Almighty ;  and  he  went  to  it 
with  the  same  indifference  to  the  sufferings  of  the  victim— probably  with  the 
same  love  of  excitement — which  he  would  have  felt  in  going  to  a  bull-fight. 

On  the  day  which  had  been  named,  Magdalena  and  her  charge  took  their 
seats  on  the  carpeted  platform  reserved  for  persons  of  rank,  in  full  view  of 
the  scaffold  appropriated  to  the  martyrs  who  were  to  suffer  for  conscience' 
sake.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  the  august  company  here  assembled  that  the 

11    "  Hallo  tan  piihlico   aqui  lo  que  toca  beautiful   edition  of   the  cardinal's  papers, 

aquella  persona  que  V.  MH<*  sabe  que  estil  &  Papiers  d'firat.  torn.  iv.  p.  495,  et  seq. 

mi  cargo  que  me  ba  espantado,  y  espantame  "  "Que  pues  Su  M""*,  en  su  testamento 

mucho  mas  las  particularidades  que  sobrello  ni  codecilo.  no  bazia  memoria  del,   que  era 

oyo."    Gachard,  Retraite  et  Mort  de  Charles-  razon  tenello  por  burla,  y  que  no  aihia  que 

Quint,  torn.  i.  p.  449.  poder  responder  otra  cosa,  en  piiblico  ni  en 

"  A  copy  of  ibis  interesting  document  was  secreto."      Gachard,    Ketraite   et    Mort    de 

found  in  the  collection  of  Granvelle  at  Be-  Cbarles-Quint,  torn.  i.  p.  446. 
san$on,  and  has  been  lately  published  in  the 


DON  JOHN  OF  AUSTRIA.  543 

son  of  Charles  the  Fifth  was  to  receive  his  first  lesson  in  the  school  of  perse- 
cution ;  that  he  was  to  learn  to  steel  his  heart  against  sympathy  with  human 
suffering ;  to  learn,  above  all,  that  compassion  for  the  heretic  was  a  crime  of 
the  deepest  dye.  It  was  a  terrible  lesson  for  one  so  young, — of  an  age  when 
the  mind  is  most  open  to  impressions  ;  and  the  bitter  fruits  of  it  were  to  be 
discerned  ere  long  in  the  war  with  the  Moriscoes. 

As  the  royal  train  approached  the  place  occupied  by  Dofia  Magdalena,  the 
regent  paused  and  looked  around  for  the  boy.  Magdalena  had  thrown  her 
mantle  about  him,  to  conceal  him  as  much  as  possible  from  the  public  eye. 
She  now  drew  it  aside  ;  and  Joanna  looked  so  long  and  earnestly  on  the  child 
that  he  shrank  abashed  from  her  gaze.  It  was  not,  however,  before  she  had 
recognized  in  his  bright  blue  eyes,  his  ample  forehead,  and  the  rich  yellow 
locks  that  clustered  round  his  head,  some  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Austrian 
line,  though  happily  without  the  deformity  of  the  protruding  lip,  which  was  no 
less  its  characteristic.  Her  heart  yearned  with  the  tenderness  of  a  sister,  as 
she  felt  convinced  that  the  same  blood  tiowed  in  his  veins  as  in  her  own  ;  and, 
stooping  down,  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and,  kissing  him,  called 
him  by  the  endearing  name  of  brother.1'  She  would  have  persuaded  him  to 
go  with  her  and  sit  by  her  side.  But  the  boy,  clinging  closely  to  his  foster- 
mother,  refused  to  leave  her  for  the  stranger  lady. 

This  curious  scene  attracted  the  attention  of  the  surrounding  spectators, 
which  was  hardly  diverted  from  the  child  by  the  appearance  of  the  prisoners 
on  the  scaffold  to  receive  their  sentences.  When  these  had  been  pronounced, 
and  the  wretched  victims  led  away  to  execution,  the  multitude  pressed  so 
eagerly  round  Magdalena  and  the  boy  that  it  was  with  difficulty  the  guards 
could  keep  them  back,  till  the  regent,  seeing  the  awkwardness  of  their  situa- 
tion, sent  one  of  her  train,  the  count  of  Osorno,  to  their  relief ;  and  that 
nobleman,  forcing  his  way  through  the  crowd,  carried  off  Geronimo  in  his  arms 
to  the  royal  carriage." 

It  was  not  long  before  all  mystery  was  dispelled  by  the  public  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  child  as  the  son  of  the  emperor.  One  of  the  first  acts  of  Philip 
after  his  return  to  Spain,  in  1559,  was  to  arrange  an  interview  with  his  brother. 
The  place  assigned  for  the  meeting  was  an  extensive  park,  not  far  from  Valla- 
dolid,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  convent  of  La  Espina,  a  spot  much  resorted 
to  by  the  Castihan  princes  of  the  older  time  for  the  pleasures  of  the  chase. 

On  the  appointed  day,  Quixada,  richly  dressed,  and  mounted  on  the  best 
horse  in  his  stables,  rode  forth,  at  the  head  of  his  vassals,  to  meet  the  king, 
with  the  little  Geronimo,  simply  attired  and  on  a  common  palfrey,  by  his  side. 
They  had  gone  but  a  few  miles  when  they  heard  through  tne  woods  the  sound 
of  horses'  hoofs,  announcing  the  approach  of  the  royal  cavalcade.  Quixada 
halted,  and,  alighting,  drew  near  to  Geronimo,  with  much  deference  in  his 
manner,  and,  dropping  on  one  knee,  begged  permission  to  kiss  his  hand.  At 
the  same  time  he  desired  his  ward  to  dismount,  and  take  the  charger  which  he 
had  himself  been  riding.  Geronimo  was  sorely  bewildered  by  what  he  would 
have  thought  a  merry  jest  on  the  part  of  his  guardian,  had  not  his  sedate  and 
dignified  character  forbidden  the  supposition.  Recovering  from  his  astonish- 

"  "  La  Princesa  al  panto  arrehatada  del  t"do-."  Vanderrmmmen,  Don  Joan  d« 

amur,  le  abra<;6,  y  bead,  sin  reparar  en  el  Austria,  fol.  25.— The  story  must  he  admitted 

Injrir  que  estara,  y  el  acto  que  exercia.  Ll»-  to  be  a  utrai'ge  one,  considering  the  jmurti- 

mole  hermano,  y  tratolede  Alteza."  Vander-  llous  character  <>f  the  Cantilian  court  ati«l 

hainmen.  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  f»l.  23.  the  rewrvml  ami  decorous  haMts  of  Joanna. 

"  "  Uego  el  cano  a  esta-lo,  qne  le  hnvo  But  the  nulhor,  liorn  and  bred  In  the  pal.icr, 

de  tomar  en  hrarrm  el  Cond*  Onoroo  hasta  had  arcr**,  as  he  tells  us,  to  the  very  highest 

la  carroc.a  de  la  Princes*,  porque  le  gozasscn  sources  of  information,  oral  and  written. 


644  REBELLION  OP  THE  MORISCOES. 

ment,  he  complied  with  his  guardian's  directions ;  and  the  vision  of  future 
greatness  must  have  flashed  on  his  mind,  if,  as  we  are  told,  when  preparing  to 
mount,  he  turned  round  to  Quixada,  and  with  an  affected  air  of  dignity  told 
him  that,  "  since  things  were  so,  he  might  hold  the  stirrup  for  him."  '• 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the  royal  party. 
Quixada  pointed  out  the  king  to  his  ward,  adding  that  his  majesty  had  some- 
thing of  importance  to  communicate  to  him.  They  then  dismounted  ;  and  the 
boy,  by  his  guardian's  instructions,  drawing  near  to  Philip,  knelt  down  aiid 
begged  leave  to  kiss  his  majesty's  hand.  The  king,  graciously  extending  it, 
loolced  intently  on  the  youth,  and  at  length  broke  silence  by  asking  "  if  he  knew 
who  was  his  father."  Geronimo,  disconcerted  by  the  abruptness  of  the  ques- 
tion, and  indeed,  if  the  reports  of  his  origin  had  ever  reached  his  ears,  ignorant 
of  their  truth,  cast  his  eyes  on  the  ground  and  made  no  answer.  Philip,  not 
displeased  with  his  embarrassment,  was  well  satisfied,  doubtless,  to  read  in  his 
intelligent  countenance  and  noble  mien  an  assurance  that  he  would  do  no  dis- 
credit to  his  birth.  Alighting  from  his  horse,  he  embraced  Geronimo,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Take  courage,  my  child  ;  you  are  descended  from  a  great  man.  The 
Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth,  now  in  glory,  is  your  father  as  well  as  mine."  '9 
Then,  turning  to  the  lords  who  stooa  around,  he  presented  the  boy  to  them  as 
the  son  of  their  late  sovereign,  and  his  own  brother.  The  courtiers,  with  the 
ready  instinct  of  their  tribe,  ever  prompt  to  worship  the  rising  sun,  pressed 
eagerly  forward  to  pay  their  obeisance  to  Geronimo.  The  scene  was  concluded 
by  the  king's  buckling  a  sword  on  his  brother's  side  and  throwing  around  his 
neck  the  sparkling  collar  of  the  Golden  Fleece. 

The  tidings  of  this  strange  event  soon  spread  over  the  neighbourhood,  for 
there  were  many  more  witnesses  of  the  ceremony  than  those  who  took  part  in 
it ;  and  the  king  and  his  retinue  found,  on  their  return,  a  multitude  of  people 
gathering  along  the  route,  eager  to  get  a  glimpse  of  this  newly-discovered  gem 
of  royalty.  The  sight  of  the  handsome  youth  called  forth  a  burst  of  noisy 
enthusiasm  from  the  populace,  and  the  air  rang  with  their  tumultuous  vivas 
as  the  royal  party  rode  through  the  streets  of  the  ancient  city  of  Valladolid. 
Philip  expressed  his  satisfaction  at  the  events  of  the  day,  by  declaring  that 
"  he  had  never  met  better  sport  in  his  life,  or  brought  back  game  so  much  to 
his  mind."28 

Having  thus  publicly  acknowledged  his  brother,  the  king  determined  to 
provide  for  him  an  establishment  suited  to  his  condition.  He  assigned  him 
for  his  residence  one  of  the  best  mansions  in  Madrid.  He  was  furnished  with 
a  numerous  band  of  retainers,  and  as  great  state  was  maintained  in  his  house- 
hold as  in  that  of  a  prince  of  the  blood.  The  count  of  Priego  acted  as  his 
chief  major-domo  ;  Don  Luis  Carrillo,  the  eldest  son  of  that  noble,  was  made 
captain  of  the  guard ;  and  Don  Luis  de  Cordova  master  of  the  horse.  In 
short,  nobles  and  cavaliers  of  the  best  blood  in  Castile  did  not  disdain  to  hold 
offices  in  the  service  of  the  peasant-boy.  With  one  or  two  exceptions,  of  little 
importance,  he  enjoyed  all  the  privileges  that  belonged  to  the  royal  infantes. 
He  did  not,  like  them,  have  apartments  in  the  palace ;  and  he  was  to  be 
addressed  by  the  title  of  "Excellency,"  instead  of  "Highness,"  which  was 

"  "  Vuelto  ya  ensi  de  la  suspension  prtmera,  Strada,  De  Bello  Belgico,  torn.  i.  p.  608. 

alargo  la  mano,  y  monto  en  el  cabal  lo ;  y  aun  '-"  "Jamas  habia  tenido  ilia  de  caza  mas 

se  dice  que  con  airosaGrandeza,  anudio  ;  Pues  gustoso,  ni  logrado  presa  que  le  habiese  <lado 

si  eso  es  asi  tened  el   estribo."     Villafafie,  tanto  contento."     Villafane,  Vida  de   f>'fia 

Vidade  Dona  Magdalena  de  Ulloa.  p.  51.  Magdalena  de  Ulloa,   p.    52. — This  curious 

10  "  Made,  inquit,  animo  puer,  pra-nobilis  account  of  Philip's  recognition  of  his  brother 

viri  fllius  es  tu:  Carolus  Quintus  Impe'ator,  is  told,  with  less  discrepancy  than  usual,  by 

qui  cctlo  degit,  utriusque  nostrum  pater  est.''  various  writers  of  that  day. 


DON  JOHN  ACKNOWLEDGED  BY  PHILIP.  645 

their  peculiar  prerogative.  The  distinction  was  not  always  scrupulously 
observed.*1 

A  more  important  change  took  place  in  his  name,  which  from  Geronimo  was 
now  converted  into  John  of  Austria, — a  lofty  name,  which  intimated  his 
descent  from  the  imperial  house  of  Hapsburg,  and  on  which  his  deeds  in  after- 
life shed  a  lustre  greater  than  the  proudest  title  that  sovereignty  could  confer. 

Luis  Quixada  kept  the  same  place  after  his  pupil's  elevation  as  before.  He 
continued  to  be  his  ayo,  or  governor,  and  removed  with  Dona  Magdalena  to 
Madrid,  where  he  took  up  his  residence  in  the  house  of  Don  John.  Thus 
living  in  the  most  intimate  personal  relations  with  him,  Quixada  maintained 
his  influence  unimpaired  till  the  hour  of  his  own  death. 

Philip  fully  appreciated  the  worth  of  the  faithful  hidalgo,  who  was  fortunate 
in  thus  enjoying  the  favour  of  the  son  in  as  great  a  degree  as  he  had  done  that 
of  the  father, — and,  as  it  would  seem,  with  a  larger  recompense  for  his  services. 
He  was  master  of  the  horse  to  Don  Carlos,  the  heir  to  the  crown  ;  he  held  the 
important  post  of  president  of  the  Council  of  the  Indies ;  and  he  possessed 
several  lucrative  benefices  in  the  military  order  of  Calatrava.  In  one  of  his  letters 
to  the  king,  we  find  Quixada  remarking  that  he  had  endeavoured  to  supply  the 
deficiencies  of  his  pupil's  early  education  by  training  him  in  a  manner  better 
suited  to  his  destinies  in  after-life.**  We  cannot  doubt  that  in  the  good 
knight's  estimate  of  what  was  essential  to  such  a  training  the  exercises  of 
chivalrv  must  have  found  more  favour  than  the  monastic  discipline  recom- 
mended by  the  emperor.  However  this  may  have  been,  Philip  resolved  to 
give  his  brother  the  test  advantages  for  a  liberal  education  by  sending  him  to 
the  University  of  Alcala,  which,  founded  by  the  great  Ximenes  a  little  more 
than  a  century  before,  now  shared  with  the  older  school  of  Salamanca  the  gloiy 
of  being  the  most  famous  seat  of  science  in  the  Peninsula.  Don  John  had  for 
his  companions  his  two  nephews,  Don  Carlos,  and  Alexander  Farnese,  the  son 
of  Margaret  of  Parma.  They  formed  a  triumvirate  each  member  of  which  was 
to  fill  a  large  space  in  the  pages  of  history,— Don  Carlos  from  his  errors  and 
misfortunes,  and  the  two  others  from  their  military  achievements.  They  were 
all  of  nearly  the  same  age.  Don  John,  according  to  a  writer  of  the  time,  stood 
foremost  among  the  three  for  the  comeliness,  or  rather  beauty,  of  his  person,  no 
less  than  for  the  charm  of  his  manners  ; 2I  while  his  soul  was  filled  with  those 
nobler  qualities  which  gave  promise  of  the  highest  excellence.24 

His  biographers  tell  us  that  Don  John  gave  due  attention  to  his  studies ; 
but  the  studies  which  found  most  favour  in  his  eyes  were  those  connected  with 
the  art  of  war.  He  was  perfect  in  all  chivalrous  accomplishments ;  and  he 
sighed  for  some  field  on  which  he  could  display  them.  The  knowledge  of  his 
real  parentage  fired  his  soul  with  a  generous  ambition,  and  he  longed  by  some 
heroic  achievement  to  vindicate  his  claim  to  his  illustrious  descent. 

At  the  end  of  three  years,  in  1564,  he  left  the  university.  The  following 
year  was  that  of  the  famous  siege  of  Malta ;  and  all  Christendom  hung  in 
suspense  on  the  issue  of  the  desperate  conflict  which  a  handful  of  warriors,  on 

11  Vaiiderhanimen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria.  con  todo  cuidado  tener  cuenta  con  el."    Ga- 

fol.  27.— "  Mandole  llamar  Ecclencia ;   pero  chard,  Retraite  et  Morttlc  Charles-quint,  torn. 

BUS  Rpnle*co»tunbre»<  le  dieronadeianto  titulo  i.  p.  460. 

«1e   Alteza    i   «le  wftor   entre   1<»  Grande*  i  "  "Long*   tamen   anMbat   A  iirtriaciiR  ot 

menores."    Cabrera,  Killpc  iwgundo,  lib.  v.  corporin    habitudlne,    el    niorum    i-uavitate. 

cup.  3.  Kacien  Illi    non    modo    pulrliru,   N-d    eti»m 

**  "Tengo  muchn  cuMado  qne  aprenda  v  venurta."    Strada,  De  Bt-llo  Belglco,  toni.  i. 

xe  le  ensenen  las  COMA  ne<  exarias,  conform?  £  p.  609. 

nil  «dad  y  4  la  calld.id  do  »u  persomi,  quo,  "  "  Emlnebat   In  adolescent*-  rotnitaa,   in- 

ftefrtm  la  estrecheza  en  que  >e  cri/i  y  ha  eatudo  duntria,   probltax,  et.   ut   in   iinv*  potentUe 

liaxta  que  vino  a  iiii  puder,  es  bien  memster  huApiU-.  vcrrcui.dia  "     Ibid.,  luc.  cit. 

'2  x 


546  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCCES. 

their  lonely  isle,  were  waging  against  the  whole  strength  of  the  Ottoman 
empire.  The  sympathies  of  Don  John  were  roused  in  behalf  of  the  Christian 
knights  ;  and  he  resolved  to  cast  his  own  fortunes  into  the  scale  with  theirs, 
and  win  his  maiden  laurels  under  the  banner  of  the  Cross.  He  did  not  ask 
the  permission  of  his  brother.  That,  he  knew,  would  be  refused  to  him.  He 
withdrew  secretly  from  the  court,  and  with  only  a  few  attendants  took  his 
way  to  Barcelona,  whence  an  armament  was  speedily  to  sail  to  carry  succour 
to  the  besieged.  Everywhere  on  the  route  he  was  received  with  tfie  respect 
due  to  his  rank.  At  Saragossa  he  was  lodged  with  the  archbishop,  under 
whose  roof  he  was  detained  by  illness.  While  there  he  received  a  letter  from 
the  king,  who  had  learned  the  cause  of  his  departure,  commanding  him  to 
return,  as  he  was  altogether  too  young  to  take  part  in  this  desperate  strife. 
Don  John  gave  little  heed  to  the  royal  orders.  He  pushed  on  to  Barcelona, 
where  he  had  the  mortification  to  find  that  the  fleet  had  sailed.  He  resolved 
to  cross  the  mountains  and  take  ship  at  Marseilles.  The  viceroy  of  Catalonia 
could  not  dissuade  the  hot- headed  youth  from  his  purpose,  when  another 
despatch  came  from  court,  in  which  Philip,  in  a  more  peremptory  tone  than 
before,  repeated  his  orders  for  his  brother  to  return,  under  pain  of  his  severe 
displeasure.  A  letter  from  Quixada  had  warned  him  of  the  certain  disgrace 
which  awaited  him  if  he  continued  to  trifle  with  the  royal  commands. 
Nothing  remained  but  to  obey ;  and  Don  John,  disappointed  in  his  scheme 
of  ambition,  returned  to  the  capital." 

This  adventure  caused  a  great  sensation  throughout  the  country.  The 
young  nobles  and  cavaliers  about  the  court,  fired  by  Don  John's  example, 
which  seemed  like  a  rebuke  on  their  own  sluggishness,  had  hastened  to  buckle 
on  their  armour  and  follow  him  to  the  war.*6  The  common  people,  peculiarly 
sensible  in  Spain  to  deeds  of  romantic  daring,  were  delighted  with  the  adven- 
turous spirit  of  the  young  prince,  which  gave  promise  that  he  was  one  clay  to 
take  his  place  among  the  heroes  of  the  nation.  This  was  the  beginning  of 
the  popularity  of  John  of  Austria  with  his  countrymen,  who  in  time  came  to 
regard  him  with  feelings  little  short  of  idolatry.  Even  Philip,  however  neces- 
sary he  may  have  thought  it  to  rebuke  the  insubordination  of  his  brother, 
must  in  his  heart  have  been  pleased  with  the  generous  spirit  he  had  exhibited. 
At  least,  the  favour  with  which  he  continued  to  regard  the  offender  showed 
that  the  royal  displeasure  was  of  no  long  continuance. 

The  sudden  change  in  the  condition  of  Don  John  might  remind  one  of  some 
fairy-tale,  where  the  poor  pea?ant-boy  finds  himself  all  at  once  converted  by 
enchantment  into  a  great  prince.  A  wiser  man  than  he  might  well  have  had 
his  head  turned  by  such  a  rapid  revolution  of  the  wheel  of  fortune ;  and 
Philip  may  naturally  have  feared  that  the  idle  dalliance  of  a  court,  to  which 
his  brother  was  now  exposed,  might  corrupt  his  simple  nature  and  seduce  him 
from  the  honourable  path  of  duty.  Great,  therefore,  must  have  been  his 
satisfaction  when  he  saw  that,  far  from  this,  the  elevation  of  the  youth  had 
only  served  to  give  a  wider  expansion  to  his  views  and  to  fill  his  bosom  with  • 
still  higher  and  nobler  aspirations. 

The  discreet  conduct  of  Don  John  in  regard  to  his  nephew,  Don  Carlos, 
when  the  latter  would  have  engaged  him  in  his  wild  and  impracticable 
schemes,  established  him  still  more  firmly  in  the  royal  favour.27 

"  Strada,  T)e  IVllo  Belgico,  torn.  ii.  pp.  saco  del  ocio  a  muclios  cavalleros  d«  la  Corte 

609.  610. — Vanderhammen,  Don  Juan  de  i  Reynos,  que  avergoncjados  de  queilarse  en 

Austria,  fol.  34-36 — Cabrera,  Fiiipe  Segundo,  el,  le  siguieron."  Cabrera,  Filipe  Sogundo, 

lib.  vi.  cap.  24.  loc.  cit. 

*•  "  La  fan  a  de  la  partida  de  Don  Juan  "  Ante,  book  iv.  ch.  6. 


MALE  COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.  847 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1568  an  opportunity  occurred  for  Philip  to  gratify 
his  brother's  ambition,  by  intrusting  him  with  the  command  of  a  fleet  then 
fitting  out,  in  the  port  of  Carthagena,  against  the  Barbary  corsairs,  who  had 
been  making  alarming  depredations  of  late  on  the  Spanish  commerce.  But, 
while  giving  him  this  appointment,  the  king  was  careful  to  supply  the  lack  of 
experience  in  his  brother  by  naming  as  second  in  command  an  officer  in  whose 
abilities  he  perfectly  confided.  This  was  Antonio  de  Zuniga  y  Requesens, 
grand  commander  of  St.  James,  an  eminent  personage,  who  will  come  fre- 
quently before  the  reader  in  the  progress  of  the  narrative.  Requesens,  who 
at  this  time  filled  the  post  of  ambassador  at  Rome,  was  possessed  of  the  ver- 
satility of  talent  so  important  in  an  age  when  the  same  individual  was  often 
required  to  exchange  the  duties  of  the  cabinet  for  those  of  the  camp.  While 
Don  John  appeared  before  the  public  as  the  captain  of  the  fleet,  the  actual 
responsibility  for  the  conduct  of  the  expedition  rested  on  his  lieutenant 

On  the  third  of  June,  Don  John  sailed  out  of  port,  at  the  head  of  as  brave 
an  armament  as  ever  floated  on  the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  prince's 
own  vessel  was  a  stately  galley,  gorgeously  fitted  up,  and  decorated  with  a 
profusion  of  paintings,  the  subjects  of  which,  drawn  chiefly  from  ancient  his- 
tory and  mythology,  were  of  didactic  import,  intended  to  convey  some  useful 
lesson  to  the  young  commander.  The  moral  of  each  picture  was  expressed  by 
some  pithy  maxim  inscribed  beneath  it  in  Latin.  Thus,  to  whatever  quarter 
Don  John  turned  his  eyes,  they  were  sure  to  fall  on  some  homily  for  his 
instruction ;  so  that  his  galley  might  be  compared  to  a  volume  richly  filled 
with  illustrations,  that  serve  to  impress  the  contents  on  the  reader's  memory. n 

The  cruise  was  perfectly  successful ;  and  Don  John,  on  his  return  to  port, 
some  eight  months  later,  might  boast  that,  in  more  than  one  engagement, 
he  had  humbled  the  pride  of  the  corsairs,  and  so  far  crippled  them  that  it 
would  be  long  before  they  could  resume  their  depredations  ;  that,  in  fine,  he 
had  vindicated  the  honour  of  his  country's  flag  throughout  the  Mediterranean. 

His  return  to  Madrid  was  welcomed  with  the  honours  of  a  triumph.  Courtier 
and  commoner,  men  of  all  classes,  in  short,  vied  with  each  other  in  offering  up 
the  sweet  incense  of  adulation,  filling  his  young  mind  with  lofty  visions  of  the 
future,  that  beckoned  him  forward  in  the  path  of  glory. 

When  the  insurrection  of  the  Moriscoes  broke  out,  in  1568,  the  eyes  of  men 
naturally  turned  on  Don  John  of  Austria,  as  the  person  who  would  most 
likely  be  sent  to  suppress  it.  But  Philip  thought  it  would  be  safer  to  trust 
the  command  to  those  who,  from  their  long  residence  in  the  neighbourhood, 
were  better  acquainted  with  the  character  of  the  country  and  of  its  inhabi- 
tants. When,  however,  the  dissensions  of  the  rival  chiefs  made  it  necessary 
to  send  some  one  invested  with  such  powers  as  might  enable  him  to  overawe 
this  factious  spirit  and  enforce  greater  concert  of  action,  the  council  of  state 
recommended  Don  John  to  the  command.  Their  recommendation  was 
approved  by  the  king,  if  indeed  it  was  not  originally  made  at  his  suggestion. 

Still,  the  "prudent"  monarch  was  careful  not  to  invest  his  brother  with 
that  independent  command  which  the  public  supposed  him  to  possess.  On 
the  contrary,  his  authority  was  restricted  within  limits  almost  as  narrow  as 
those  which  had  curbed  it  in  the  Mediterranean.  A  council  of  war  was 
appointed,  by  whose  opinions  Don  John  was  to  be  guided  in  every  question  of 
moment.  In  case  of  a  division  of  opinion,  the  question  was  to  be  referred  to 
the  decision  of  Philip.** 

"  Vanderhammen     hm*    Rlvrn    a    minute  reprimere    dolo "    uvoura    strongly    of   the 

description    of  this    r»ynl    c»ll«-y,   with    IM  politic  monarch.     Dun  Joan  de  Austria,  fol. 

pictorial   Illustrations,     Among  the  legends  44-48. 

omUuoned  below    them,  that  of  ••  bolum  "•  "  Su  comislon  fuegln  limltaclon  nlngima. 


648  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

The  chief  members  of  this  body,  in  whom  the  supreme  power  was  virtually 
lodged,  were  the  marquis  of  Mondejar,  who  from  this  time  does  not  appear  to 
have  taken  the  field  in  person  ;  the  duke  of  Sesa,  grandson  of  the  Great 
Captain,  Gonsalvo  de  Cdrdova,  and  endowed  with  no  small  portion  of  the 
military  talent  of  his  ancestor ;  the  archbishop  of  Granada,  a  prelate  possessed 
of  as  large  a  measure  of  bigotry  as  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  Spanish  ecclesi- 
astic ;  Deza,  president  of  the  Audience,  who  hated  the  Moriscoes  with  the 
fierce  hatred  of  an  inquisitor  ;  and,  finally,  Don  John's  faithful  ayo,  Quixado, 
who  had  more  influence  over  him  than  was  enjoyed  by  any  other,  and  who 
had  come  to  witness  the  first  of  his  pupil's  campaigns,  destined,  alas  !  to  be 
the  closing  one  of  his  own.39 

There  could  hardly  have  been  a  more  unfortunate  device  than  the  contri- 
vance of  sc  cumbrous  a  machinery  as  this  council,  opposed  as  it  was,  from  its 
very  nature,  to  the  despatch  so  indispensable  to  the  success  of  military  opera- 
tions. The  mischief  was  increased  by  the  necessity  of  referring  every  disputed 
point  to  the  decision  of  the  king.  As  this  was  a  contingency  that  often 
occurred,  the  young  prince  soon  found  almost  as  many  embarrassments 
thrown  in  his  way  by  his  friends  as  by  his  foes, — embarrassments  which 
nothing  but  an  uncommon  spirit  of  determination  on  his  own  part  could 
have  overcome. 

On  the  sixth  of  April,  1569,  Don  John  took  leave  of  the  king,  then  at 
Aranjuez,  and  hastened  towards  the  south.  His  coming  was  eagerly  expected 
by  the  inhabitants  of  Granada :  by  the  Christians,  from  their  hopes  that  it 
would  remedy  the  disorders  in  the  army  and  bring  the  war  to  a  speedy  con- 
clusion ;  by  the  Moriscoes,  from  the  protection  they  anticipated  he  would 
afford  them  against  the  violence  of  the  Spaniards.  Preparations  were  made 
in  the  capital  for  giving  him  a  splendid  reception.  The  programme  of  the 
ceremonies  was  furnished  by  Philip  himself."  At  some  miles  from  the  city, 
Don  John  was  met  by  the  count  of  Tendilla,  at  the  head  of  a  small  detach- 
ment of  infantry,  wearing  uniforms  partly  of  the  Castilian  fashion,  partly  of 
the  Morisco, — presenting  altogether  a  strange  and  picturesque  spectacle,  in 
which  silks,  velvets,  and  rich  embroidery  floated  gayly  amidst  the  iron  mail 
and  burnished  weapons  of  the  warrior.32  As  the  prince  proceeded  along  his 
•  route,  he  was  met  by  a  long  train  of  ecclesiastical  and  civic  functionaries, 
followed  by  the  principal  cavaliers  and  citizens  of  Granada.  At  their  head 
•were  the  archbishop  and  the  president,  the  latter  of  whom  was  careful  to 
assert  his  rank  by  walking  on  the  right  of  the  prelate.  Don  John  showed 
them  both  the  greatest  deference ;  and,  as  they  drew  near,  he  dismounted 
from  his  horse,  and,  embracing  the  two  churchmen,  stood  with  hat  in  hand, 
for  some  moments,  while  conversing  with  them.33  As  their  train  came  up, 
the  president  presented  the  most  eminent  persons  to  the  prince,  who  received 
them  with  that  frank  and  graceful  courtesy  which  won  the  hearts  of  all  who 
approached  him.  He  then  resumed  his  route,  escorted  on  either  side  by  the 

mas  su  libertad  tan  atada,  que  de  cosa  grande  recibimiento    de    sn    hennano."      Marmot, 

nipequefia  podia  disponer  Bin  comunicacion  Rebelion  dp  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  17. 

i  parecer  de  los  Consegeros,  i  mandodo  del  :"  "  De  manera  que  entre  gala  y  gtierra 

Rei."     Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  139.  hacian  hcrmosa  y  agradable  vista."      Ibid., 

10  Ibid.,  p.  130,  et   seq. — Vandei  hammpn,  ubi  supra. 

Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  81. — Mannol,  torn.  "  "El  qual  lo  recibio  mny  bien,  y  con  el 

i.    pp.    511-513. — Villafafie,   Vida    de    Dona  sombrero   en   el  mano,   y   le  tuvo  un    rato 

Magdalena  de  Ulloa,  p.  73. — C.ibrera,  Pilipe  abrazado.     Y  apartandose  a  un  lailo,  llego  el 

Segundo.  lib.  ix.  cap.  1.  Arzobispo,  y  hizo  lo  mi.-ino  con  el."    Ibid., 

31  "  Ya   el  Pn-sidente  tonia   orden  de  su  p.  18. 
Magestad  de  la  que  se  babia  de  tener  en  el 


MADE  COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.  549 

president  and  the  archbishop.  The  neighbouring  fields  were  covered  with 
spectators,  and  on  the  plains  of  Beyro  he  found  a  large  body  of  troops,  not 
less  than  ten  thousand,  drawn  up  to  receive  him.  As  he  approached,  they 
greeted  him  with  salvoes  of  musketry,  delivered  with  admirable  precision.  As 
Don  John  glanced  over  their  beautiful  array  and  beheld  their  perfect  dis- 
cipline and  appointments,  his  eyes  brightened  and  his  cheek  flushed  with  a 
soldier's  pride. 

Hardly  had  he  entered  the  gates  of  Granada  when  he  was  surrounded  by 
a  throng  of  women,  who  gathered  about  him  in  an  attitude  of  supplication. 
They  were  the  widows,  the  mothers,  and  the  daughters  of  those  who  had  so 
miserably  perished  in  the  massacres  of  the  Alpujarras.  They  were  clad  in 
mourning,  some  of  them  so  scantily  as  too  plainly  to  reveal  their  poverty. 
Falling  on  their  knees,  with  tears  streaming  from  their  eyes,  and  their  words 
rendered  almost  inarticulate  by  their  sobs,  they  demanded  justice, — justice  on 
the  murderers  of  their  kindred  They  had  seen  their  friends  fall,  they  said, 
beneath  the  blows  of  their  executioners  ;  but  the  pain  with  which  their  hearts 
were  then  rent  was  not  so  great  as  what  they  now  felt  on  learning  that  the 
cruel  acts  of  these  miscreants  were  to  go  unpunished.*4  Don  John  endea- 
voured to  calm  their  agitation  by  expressions  of  the  deepest  sympathy  for 
their  misfortunes, — expressions  of  which  none  who  saw  his  countenance  could 
doubt  the  truth ;  and  he  promised  that  he  would  do  all  in  his  power  to  secure 
them  justice. 

A  livelier  scene  awaited  him  as  the  procession  held  its  way  along  the  streets 
of  the  ancient  capital.  Everywhere  the  houses  were  gayly  decorated  with 
tapestries  of  cloth  of  gold.  The  multitude  who  thronged  the  avenues  filled 
the  air  with  their  loyal  acclamations.  Bright  eyes  glanced  from  balconies  and 
windows,  where  the  noblest  matrons  and  maidens  of  Granada,  in  rich  attire, 
were  gathered  to  look  upon  the  splendid  pageant  and  the  young  hero  who  was 
the  object  of  it.14  In  this  state  he  moved  along  until  he  reached  the  palace 
of  the  Royal  Audience,  where,  by  the  king's  command,  apartments  had  been 
sumptuously  fitted  up  for  his  accommodation." 

Tne  following  day,  a  deputation  waited  on  Don  John  from  the  principal 
Moriscoes  of  the  city,  claiming  his  protection  against  the  injuries  and  insults 
to  which  they  were  exposed  whenever  they  went  abroad.  They  complained 
especially  of  the  Spanish  troops  quartered  on  them,  and  of  the  manner  in 
which  they  violated  the  sanctity  of  their  dwellings  by  the  foulest  outrages. 
Don  John  replied  in  a  tone  that  expressed  little  of  the  commiseration  which 
he  had  shown  to  the  female  petitioners  on  the  preceding  day.  He  told  the 
Moriscoes  that  he  had  been  sent  to  restore  order  to  Granada,  and  that  those 
who  had  proved  loyal  would  find  themselves  protected  in  all  their  rights. 
Those,  on  the  contrary,  who  had  taken  part  in  the  late  reliellipn  would  be 
chastised  with  unsparing  rigour.17  He  directed  them  to  state  their  grievances 
in  a  memorial,  with  a  caution  to  set  down  nothing  which  they  could  not  prove, 

"  "  Qne  no  alnMeron  Unto  dolor  con  oir  los  (>eda,  y  roucbo  numero  de  <!ai»a*  y  doncellaa 

crudes    golpts  de    las  armas  con    que    !<>»  noblen  en    dins,   r1canient>>    at.ivtniUs   qtie 

hereges   los  mataban   &  ellot*  y  &  MI*  hljo*.  habian  arudMo  de  todu  la  cludad  |x>r  verle." 

hvrmanos  y  parlenteo,  como  el  que  Hlcnton  Ibid.,  ul-1  supra. 

en  ver  que  ban  de  S.T  perdonados."     Marm»l.  "  Ibid.,  pp.   17-19.— VandTtiammen.  Don 

!'•  I-  lion  de  Granada,  turn.  II.  p.  19.  —  Kroni  Juan  de  Auxtrla,  fol.  83.— Mcuduza,  Uuerra 

tin-  It  would  (teem  thai  the  l«ve  of  revenge  de  Granada,  p.  l:t3. 

was  a  utronger  feeling  witb   these  Christian  "'  "  Juntamei.te  con    uwr  de  equtdnd   y 

women  than  the  love  of  friends.  clemencla  con  li»  que  lo  niereol<r.-ii.  Ion  qua 

"  "Y  maa  galas  y  regucijoa,  porque  esta-  no   hublereii  nldo  tale*  »entn   r»*tig.id<*  con 

ban   la*   vt-ntana*  de   las  cullefl,   por  donde  grandlsinio    rigor."       Maruiol,   Kebclion  <1« 

babla  de  panar,  entoldados  de  pafio»  de  oro  y  Granada,  torn  it  p.  21. 


550  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

or  it  would  go  hard  with  them.    The  unfortunate  Moriscoes  found  that  they 
were  to  expect  such  justice  only  as  comes  from  the  hand  of  an  enemy. 

The  first  session  of  the  council  showed  how  defective  was  the  system  for 
conducting  the  war.  In  the  discussions  that  ensued,  Mondeiar  remarked 
that  the  contest,  in  his  opinion,  was  virtually  at  an  end ;  that  the  Moriscoes, 
for  the  most  part,  were  in  so  favourable  a  mood  that  he  would  undertake,  if 
the  affair  were  placed  in  his  hands,  to  bring  them  all  to  submission  in  a  very 
short  time.  This  proposal  was  treated  with  contempt  by  the  haughty  pre- 
sident, who  denounced  them  as  a  false-hearted  race,  on  whose  promises  no 
one  could  rely.  The  war,  he  said,  would  never  be  ended  so  long  as  the  Moris- 
coes of  the  capital  were  allowed  to  communicate  with  their  countrymen  in  the 
mountains  and  to  furnish  them  with  secret  intelligence  respecting  what  was 
passing  in  the  Christian  camp.  The  first  step  was  to  remove  them  all  from 
Granada  into  the  interior  ;  the  second,  to  make  such  an  example  of  the  mis- 
creants who  had  perpetrated  the  massacres  in  the  Alpujarras  as  should  strike 
terror  into  the  hearts  of  the  infidels  and  deter  them  from  any  further  resist- 
ance to  authority.  In  this  division  of  opinion  the  members  took  different 
sides  according  to  the  difference  of  their  tempers.  The  commander-in-chief 
and  Quixada  ooth  leaned  to  Mondejar's  opinion.  After  a  protracted  dis- 
cussion, it  became  necessary  to  refer  the  question  to  the  king,  who  was  by  no 
means  distinguished  for  the  promptness  with  which  he  came  to  his  conclusions. 
All  this  required  much  tune,  during  which  active  operations  could  not  be 
resumed.*8 

Yet  Don  John  did  not  pass  it  idly.  He  examined  the  state  of  the  works  in 
Granada  and  its  neighbourhood ;  he  endeavoured  to  improve  the  condition 
of  the  army,  and  to  quell  the  spirit  of  insubordination  which  had  risen  in 
some  portions  of  it ;  finally,  he  sent  his  commands  for  enforcing  levies,  not 
merely  in  Andalusia  and  the  adjoining  provinces,  but  in  Castile.  The  appeal 
was  successful ;  and  the  great  lords  in  the  south,  more  particularly,  gathering 
their  retainers,  hastened  to  Granada,  to  draw  their  swords  under  this  popular 
chieftain.39 

Meanwhile,  the  delay  was  attended  with  most  mischievous  consequences, 
as  it  gave  the  enemy  time  to  recover  from  the  disasters  of  the  previous  cam- 
paign. Aben-Humeya  had  returned,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  former  chapter, 
to  his  mountain-throne,  where  he  soon  found  himself  in  greater  strength  than 
before.  Even  the  "  Moriscoes  of  the  peace,"  as  they  were  called,  who  had 
resumed  their  allegiance  to  the  crown,  exasperated  by  the  outrages  of  the 
Spanish  soldiery  and  the  contempt  which  they  showed  for  the  safe-conduct  of 
the  marquis  of  Mondejar,  now  came  in  great  numbers  to  Aben-Humeya's 
camp,  offering  their  services  and  promising  to  stand  by  him  to  the  last. 
Other  levies  he  drew  from  Africa.  The  Moslem  princes  to  whom  he  had 
applied  for  succour,  though  refusing  to  embark  openly  in  his  cause,  as  he  had 
desired,  allowed  such  of  their  subjects  as  chose  to  join  his  standard.  In  con- 
sequence, a  considerable  body  of  Barbary  Moors  crossed  the  sea  and  entered 
into  the  service  of  the  Morisco  chief.  They  were  a  fierce,  intrepid  race, 
accustomed  to  a  life  of  wild  adventure,  and  possessing  a  better  acquaintance 
with  military  tactics  than  belonged  to  the  Spanish  mountaineers.40 

"  Marniol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  it.  85.— Marmol.   Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  i. 

pp.   23,  24. —  Vanderhammen,   Don   Ju;m  de  p.    27.— Cabrera,   Filipe    Segundo,    lib.    ix. 

Austria,   fol.    85. — Cabrera,   Filipe  Segnndo,  cap.  1. 

lib.    is.  cap.  1. — Herrera,   HisUiria   general,  *°  The  historian  of  the  Morisco  rebellion 

torn.  1.  pp.  744,  745.  tells  ue  that  these  Africans  wore  garlands 

*"  Mcndoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  141. —  round  their  heads,  intimating  their  purpose  to 

Vanderbammeu,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  conquer  or  to  die  like  martyrs  in  defence  of 


THE  WAR  RENEWED.  551 

While  strengthened  by  these  recruits,  Aben-Humeva  drew  a  much  larger 
revenue  than  formerly  from  his  more  extended  domains.*1  Though  showy 
and  expensive  in  his  tastes,  he  did  not  waste  it  all  on  the  maintenance  of  the 
greater  state  which  he  now  assumed  in  his  way  of  living.  He  employed  it 
freely  in  the  pay  of  foreign  levies,  and  in  procuring  arms  and  munitions  for 
his  own  troops ;  and  he  profited  by  his  experience  in  the  last  campaign,  and 
by  the  example  of  his  African  mercenaries,  to  introduce  a  better  system  of 
tactics  among  his  Morisco  warriors.  The  policy  he  adopted,  as  before,  was  to 
avoid  pitched  battles,  and  to  confine  himself  chiefly  to  the  guerilla  warfare 
better  suited  to  the  genius  of  the  mountaineer.  He  fell  on  small  detachments 
of  Spaniards  who  were  patrolling  the  country,  cut  off  the  convoys,  and  thus 
greatly  straitened  the  garrisons  in  their  supplies.  He  made  forays  into  the 
Christian  territories,  penetrating  even  into  the  vega,  and  boldly  carried  the 
war  up  to  the  walls  of  Granada. 

His  ravages  in  this  quarter,  it  is  true,  did  not  continue  long  after  the  arrival 
of  Don  John,  who  took  effectual  measures  for  protecting  the  capital  from 
insult.  But  the  prince  was  greatly  chagrined  by  seeing  the  rapid  extension  of 
the  Morisco  domain.  Yet  he  could  take  no  decisive  measures  to  check  it  until 
the  council  had  determined  on  some  plan  of  operations.  He  was  moreover 
fettered  by  the  king's  orders  not  to  take  the  field  in  person,  but  to  remain  and 
represent  him  in  Granada,  where  he  would  find  enough  to  do  in  regulating  the 
affairs  and  providing  for  the  safety  of  the  city."  Philip  seems  to  nave  feared 
that  Don  John's  adventurous  spirit  would  lead  him  to  some  rash  act,  that 
might  unnecessarily  expose  him  to  danger.  He  appears,  indeed,  as  we  may 
gather  from  numerous  passages  in  his  letters,  to  have  been  more  concerned  for 
the  safety  of  his  brother  than  for  the  success  of  the  campaign.4*  He  may  have 
thought,  too,  that  it  was  better  to  trust  the  war  to  the  hands  of  the  veteran 
chief,  the  marquis  of  Los  Velez,  who  could  boast  so  much  larger  experience 
than  Don  John,  and  who  had  possessed  the  king  with  a  high  idea  of  his  mili- 
tary talents. 

ThU  nobleman  still  held  the  command  of  the  country  east  of  the  Alpujarras, 
in  which  lay  his  own  large  property  He  had,  as  we  have  seen,  a  hard  and 
arrogant  nature,  which  could  ill  brook  the  paramount  authority  of  the  young 
commander-in-chief,  to  whom  he  rarely  condescended  to  write,  preferring  to 
make  his  communications  directly  to  the  king."  Philip,  prompted  by  his 
appetite  for  power,  winked  at  this  irregular  proceeding,  which  enabled  him  to 
take  a  more  direct  part  in  the  management  of  affairs  than  he  could  otherwise 
have  done.  It  was  a  most  injudicious  step,  and  was  followed,  as  we  shall  see, 
by  disastrous  consequences. 

their  faith.    Marmot,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  "  Don  John  deems  to  have  chafed  under 

torn.  II.  p.  73.  the  restrictions  imposed  on  him  by  the  kinjf. 

•'  Besides  a  tenth  of  the  produce  of  the  At  least  we  may  infer  BO  from  a  rebuke  of 

Mil,  one  source  of  bin' revenue,  we  ar   told,  Philip,  who  tells  his  brother  that,  "though 

was  the  confiscated  property  of  such  Moriscoes  for  the  great  love  he  beam  him  he  will  ovt-r- 

a-  refused  to  yield  him  obedience.     Another  look  such  language  this  time,  it  will  not  be 

was  a  flith  of  the  spoil  taken  from  the  enemy.  well  for  him  lo  repeat  it."    Carta  del  !{••>•  a 

Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  35.  Don  .luan  A-  Austria.  20  de  Mayo,  1569,  MS. 

—  Also  Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  120.  "  Yaiiderhamnien,  Don  Juan  de  Austria, 

"  "Y  la  vuestra,   ya  yo  o«  dixe  que  la  fol.  94.- Marmol,  with  one  or  two  vigorous 

queria  para  cosan  mayorea,  y  que  aai  agora  cuupi  de  pinceau,  gives  the  portrait  of  the 

yo  no  os  emblaba  A  las  de  la  guerra  sino  il  marquis  :  "  No  se  podia  determinar  qua!  era 

e»a  ciudad  a  dar  de-de  ella  la  orden  en  uxlo  en  el  mayor  extremo,  sn  esfuerzo,  valentfa  y 

que   conbiiii-w  :    Pues  yo  por  otrus  ootipa-  discretion,  6    la  arrogancla    y  ambicion   •:  • 

clones  y  cartas  no  lo  podia  hazer."    Carta  dd  hotira,  acrompaflada  de    asperexa  de   coixli- 

Key  &   Don  Juan  de  Austri.i,  10  de  Mayo,  clou."     Ucbcliun  de  Granada,  torn  Ii.  ]•.  '."J. 
is«i>,  MS. 


552  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

The  marquis,  without  waiting  for  orders,  resolved  to  open  the  campaign  by 
penetrating  into  the  Alpujarras  with  the  small  force  he  had  under  his  com- 
mand. But  a  body  of  some  four  hundred  troops,  which  lie  had  caused  to 
occupy  the  pass  of  Ravaha,  was  cut  off'  by  the  enemy ;  and  the  haughty  chief- 
tain reluctantly  obeyed  the  orders  of  Don  John  to  abandon  his  design.  Aben- 
Humeya's  success  encouraged  him  to  attack  the  marquis  in  his  new  quarters 
at  Verja.  It  was  a  well-concerted  enterprise,  but  unfortunately,  before  the 
time  arrived  for  its  execution,  it  was  betrayed  by  a  prisoner  to  the  Spanish 
commander.  It  consequently  failed.  Aben-Humeya  penetrated  into  the 
heart  of  the  town,  where  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  an  ambuscade,  and 
with  difficulty,  after  a  heavy  loss,  effected  his  retreat.  But  if  the  victory 
remained  with  the  Spaniards,  the  fruits  of  it  fell  to  the  Moriscoes.  The  spirit 
shown  by  the  Moslem  prince  gave  new  life  to  his  countrymen,  and  more  than 
counterbalanced  the  effects  of  his  defeat.  The  rich  and  populous  country  of 
the  Rio  de  Almanzora  rose  in  arms.  The  marquis  of  Los  Velez  found  it  expe- 
dient to  abandon  his  present  position,  and  to  transfer  his  quarters  to  Adra, 
a  sea-port  on  the  Mediterranean,  which  would  afford  him  greater  facilities  for 
receiving  reinforcements  and  supplies." 

The  spirit  of  insurrection  now  spread  rapidly  over  other  parts  of  the 
Alpujarras,  and  especially  along  the  sierra  of  Bentomiz,  which  stretches 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  Alhama  towards  the  south.  Here  the  moun- 
taineers, who  had  hitherto  taken  no  part  in  the  troubles  of  the  country, 
ranging  themselves  under  the  crimson  banner  of  Aben-Humeya,  broke  forth 
into  open  rebellion.  The  inhabitants  of  Velez  and  of  the  more  important 
city  of  Malaga  were  filled  with  consternation,  trembling  lest  the  enemy 
should  descend  on  them  from  the  mountains  and  deluge  their  streets  with 
blood.  They  hastily  mustered  the  militia  of  the  country,  and  made  prepara- 
tions for  their  defence. 

Fortunately,  at  this  conjuncture,  they  were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  the 
Grand  Commander  Requesens,  who  sailed  into  the  harbour  of  Velez  Malaga 
with  a  squadron  from  Italy,  having  on  board  several  battalions  of  Spanish 
veterans  who  had  been  ordered  home  by  the  government  to  reinforce  the  army 
of  the  Alpujarras.  There  were  no  better  troops  in  the  service,  seasoned  as 
they  were  by  many  a  hard  campaign,  and  all  under  the  most  perfect  discipline. 
The  first  step  of  Requesens — the  same  officer,  it  will  be  remembered,  who  had 
acted  as  the  lieutenant  of  Don  John  of  Austria  in  his  cruise  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean— was  to  request  of  his  young  general  the  command  of  the  expedition 
against  the  rebels  of  Bentomiz.  These  were  now  gathered  in  great  force  on 
the  lofty  table-land  of  Fraxiliana,  where  they  had  strengthened  the  natural 
defences  of  the  ground  by  such  works  as  rendered  the  approach  to  it  nearly 
impracticable.  The  request  was  readily  granted  ;  and  the  grand  commander 
of  St.  James,  without  loss  of  time,  led  his  battalions  into  the  heart  of  the 
sierra. 

We  have  not  space  for  the  details.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  expedition 
was  one  of  the  best-conducted  in  the  war.  The  enemy  made  a  desperate 
resistance  ;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  timely  arrival  of  the  bold  burghers  of 
Malaga,  the  grand  commander  would  have  been  driven  from  the  field.  The 
Morisco  women  fought  by  the  side  of  their  husbands  ;  and,  when  all  was  lost, 
many  threw  themselves  headlong  from  the  precipices  rather  than  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  Spaniards.46  Two  thousand  of  the  enemy  were  slain  ;  and  three 

"  Marmol,  Rcbelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.        nada.  p.  175,  et  seq. — Miniana,  Historia  de 
p.  73,  et  wq. — Vanderhammen,  Don  Ju'tn  de        Kspafia,  p.  377. 
Austria,  fo!.  94.— Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Gra-  •*  "Quando  vieron  el  fuerte  perdido,  se 


THE  WAR  RENEWED.  553 

thousand  captives,  with  an  immense  booty  of  gold,  silver,  jewels,  and  precious 
stuffs,  became  the  spoil  of  the  victors.  The  spirit  of  rebellion  was  effectually 
crushed  in  the  sierra  of  Bentomiz. 

Yet  it  was  not  a  bloodless  victory.  Full  six  hundred  of  the  Christians  fell 
on  the  field  of  battle.  The  loss  bore  most  heavily  on  the  troops  from  Italy. 
Nearly  every  captain  in  this  valiant  corps  was  wounded.4'  The  bloody  roll 
displayed,  moreover,  the  name  of  more  than  one  cavalier  as  distinguished  for 
his  birth  as  for  his  bravery.  Two  thousand  Moriscoes  succeeded  in  making 
their  escape  to  the  camp  of  Aben-Humeya.  They  proved  a  seasonable  rein- 
forcement ;  for  that  chief  was  meditating  an  assault  on  Seron.48 

This  was  a  strongly-fortified  place,  perched  like  an  eagle's  eyry  on  the 
summit  of  a  bold  cliff  that  looked  down  on  the  Rio  de  Almanzora  and  com- 
manded its  formidable  passes.  It  was  consequently  a  most  important  post, 
and  at  this  tune  was  held  by  a  Spanish  garrison  under  an  officer  named 
Mirones.  Aben-Humeya  sent  a  strong  detachment  against  it,  intending  to 
carry  it  by  storm.  But  the  Moriscoes  had  no  battering-train,  and,  as  it  soon 
appeared,  were  little  skilled  in  the  art  of  conducting  a  siege.  It  was  resolved, 
therefore,  to  abandon  the  present  plan  of  operations,  and  to  reduce  the  place 
by  the  slower  but  surer  way  of  blockade.  Five  thousand  men,  accordingly,  sat 
down  before  the  town  on  the  eighteenth  of  June,  and  effectually  cut  off  all 
communication  from  abroad. 

The  garrison  succeeded  in  conveying  intelligence  of  their  condition  to  Don 
John,  who  lost  no  time  in  ordering  Alonso  de  Carbajal  to  n.arch  with  a  body 
of  troops  and  a  good  supply  of  provisions  to  their  relief.  But  just  after  his 
departure  Don  John  received  information  that  the  king  had  intrusted  the 
marquis  of  Los  Velez  with  the  defence  of  .Seron.  He  therefore,  by  Qnixada's 
advice,  countermanded  his  orders  to  Carbajal,  and  directed  him  to  return. 
That  officer,  who" had  approached  within  a  short  distance  of  the  place,  reluc- 
tantly obeyed,  and  left  iSeron  to  its  fate.  The  marquis  of  Los  Velez,  notwith- 
standing the  jealousy  he  displayed  of  the  interference  of  Don  John  in  the 
affair,  showed  so  little  alacrity  in  providing  for  the  safety  of  the  beleaguered 
fortress  that  the  garrison,  reduced  to  extremity,  on  the  eleventh  of  July  sur- 
rendered on  honourable  terms.  But  no  sooner  liad  they  given  up  the  place 
than  the  victors,  regardless  of  the  terms  of  capitulation,  murdered  in  cold 
blood  every  male  over  twelve  years  of  age,  and  made  slaves  of  the  women  and 
children.  This  foul  act  was  said  to  have  been  perpetrated  by  the  secret 
command  of  Aben-Humeya.  The  Morisco  chief  might  allege,  in  vindi- 
cation of  his  perfidy,  that  he  had  but  followed  the  lesson  set  him  by  the 
Spaniards.4* 

The  loss  of  Seron  caused  deep  regret  to  the  army.  Nor  could  this  regret  be 
mitigated  by  the  reflection  that  its  loss  was  to  be  attributed  not  so  much  to 

dcspefiaron  por  la*  pefias  mas  aprias,  quiri-  Philip,   while    he    commends    th«    generous 

eu<1o  ma*  morir  heeling  pedazo*.  que  venir  en  ardour  shown  by  the  grand  command*  r  in  the 

j>oder  de  C'brielianos."    Murmol,  Kebelion  de  expedition,  condemn*  him  for  having  quitud 

liranada,  torn.  ii.  p.  89.  hi*  fleet   to  engage  in   it:  "El  cunxndador 

*'  "Cast  todoe  los  tapitanes."    Ibid.,  loc.  mayor  tiibo  buen  suceso  como  de>eals,ycomo 

cit.  entiendo  yo  que  lo  mcreo*  HU  xelo  y  su  in  ten- 

••  Tbe  fierce  encounter  at  Fraxlliana  i*  cion,  max  »alir  nu  pernona  en  tierra.  teniendo 

given  In  great  detail  by  Mcndoza  (Uu'-rra  de  en  vue*tra  auxemla  el  cargo  de  la  man,  fue 

liranada,  pp.  165-169)  and  Marai"!  (Kebelion  cosa  digna  de   muclia  reprehension."    CarU 

de  Granada,  torn   ii.  pp.  *6-»u).     No  fit-Id  of  del  Key  u  I  Km  Juan,  26  de  Jnnio.  lf.69.  MS. 
tight  was  teller  contested  during  tbe  war;  "  Marmol,  Kebeliun  de  (iranuda.  tom.  ii. 

und   both  historians   l*ar  teotiiuony  to  the  pp.  low-Ill.—  FerreraN  Hint  d'Kppagne.  tom. 

extraordinary  valour  ol  the  Mori*ci'es,  worthy  x.  pp.  *3.  84.— Cabrera,  Filipe  Scguiulo,  lib. 

of   the   best  days  of   the   Arabuii   empire.  Ix.  cap.  6. 


554  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

the  valour  of  the  Moslems  as  to  the  misconduct  of  their  own  commanders,  or 
rather  to  the  miserable  system  adopted  for  carrying  on  the  war.  The  triumph 
of  the  Moriscoes,  however,  was  greatly  damped  by  the  intelligence  which  they 
had  received,  shortly  before  the  surrender  of  Seron,  of  disasters  that  hail 
befallen  their  countrymen  in  Granada. 

Philip,  after  much  hesitation,  had  given  his  sanction  to  Deza's  project  for 
the  removal  of  the  Moriscoes  from  the  capital  into  the  interior  of  the  country. 
The  day  appointed  for  carrying  the  measure  into  effect  was  the  twenty-third 
of  June.  A  large  body  of  troops,  with  the  principal  commanders,  was  secretly 
assembled  in  the  capital,  to  enforce  the  execution  of  the  plan.  Meanwhile, 
rumours  were  current  that  the  Moriscoes  in  the  city  were  carrying  on  a  secret 
communication  with  their  countrymen  in  the  Aljmjarras  ;  that  they  supplied 
the  mountaineers  with  arms  and  money  ;  that  the  young  men  were  leaving 
Granada  to  join  their  ranks ;  finally,  that  a  conspiracy  had  been  planned  for 
an  assault  on  the  city,  and  even  that  the  names  of  the  leadeis  were  given. 
It  is  impossible,  at  this  time,  to  say  what  foundation  there  was  for  these 
charges  ;  but  the  reader  may  recollect  that  similar  ones  had  been  circulated 
previous  to  the  barbarous  massacre  in  the  prison  of  the  Chancery. 

On  the  twenty-third  of  the  month,  on  the  eve  of  St.  John's,  an  edict  was 
published,  commanding  all  the  Morisco  males  in  Granada  between  ten  and 
sixty  years  of  age  to  repair  to  the  parish  churches  to  which  they  respectively 
belonged,  where  they  were  to  learn  their  fate.  The  women  were  to  remain 
some  time  longer  in  the  city,  to  dispose  of  the  most  valuable  effects,  such  as 
could  not  easily  be  transported.  This  was  not  difficult,  at  the  low  prices  for 
which,  in  their  extremity,  they  were  obliged  to  part  with  their  property.  We 
are  left  in  ignorance  of  the  fate  of  the  children,  who,  no  doubt,  remained  in 
the  hands  of  the  government,  to  be  nurtured  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.5" 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  consternation  of  the  Moriscoes  on  the  publication 
of  this  decree,  for  which,  though  so  long  suspended  by  a  thread,  as  it  were, 
over  their  heads,  they  were  wholly  unprepared.  It  is  not  strange,  as  they 
recalled  the  atrocious  murders  perpetrated  in  the  prison  of  the  Chancery,  that 
they  should  have  been  led  to  believe  that  nothing  less  than  a  massacre  of  the 
whole  Moorish  population  was  now  designed.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  marquis 
of  Mondejar  endeavoured  to  allay  their  fears.  They  were  somewhat  comforted 
by  the  assurance  of  the  President  Deza,  given  under  his  own  hand,  that  their 
lives  were  in  no  danger.  But  their  apprehensions  on  this  point  were  not 
wholly  quieted  till  Don  John  had  pledged  his  royal  word  that  no  harm  should 
come  to  their  persons, — that,  in  short,  the  great  object  of  the  government  was 
to  secure  their  safety.  They  then  submitted  without  any  attempt  at  resistance. 
Resistance,  indeed,  would  have  been  hardly  possible,  destitute  as  they  were  of 
weapons  or  other  means  of  defence,  and  surrounded  on  all  quarters  by  the 
well-armed  soldiery  of  Castile.  They  accordingly  entered  the  churches  assigned 
to  them,  at  the  doors  of  which  strong  guards  were  stationed  during  the  night. 

On  the  following  morning  the  Moriscoes  were  marched  out  and  formed  into 
a  procession,  which  was  to  take  its  way  to  the  great  hospital  in  the  suburbs. 
This  was  a  noble  building,  erected  by  the  good  Queen  Isabella  the  Catholic, 
not  long  after  the  Conquest.  Here  they  were  to  stay  till  the  arrangements 
were  completed  for  forming  them  into  divisions  according  to  their  several 
places  of  destination.  It  was  a  sad  and  solemn  spectacle,  that  of  this  company 

*°  Mendnza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  146. —  transcribe  the  pages  of  Mendoza,  and  that  in 

Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  il.  p.  100.  so  blundering  *  style  as  to  mistake  the  date  of 

— Bleda  (Cronica  de  Espafia,  p.  7i'5),  in  this  this  event  by  a  month, 
part  of  bis  work,  has  done  nothing  more  than 


THE  WAR  RENEWED.  555 

of  exiles,  as  they  moved  with  slow  and  uncertain  step,  bound  together  by 
cords,41  and  escorted,  or  rather  driven  along  like  a  gang  of  convicts,  by  the 
fierce  soldiery.  There  they  were,  the  old  and  'the  young,  the  rich  and  the 
]>oor,  now,  alas  !  brought  to  the  same  level,  the  forms  of  most  of  them  bowed 
down,  less  by  the  weight  of  years  than  of  sorrow,  their  hands  meekly  folded  on 
their  breasts,  their  cheeks  wet  with  tears,  as  they  gazed  for  the  last  time  on 
their  beautiful  city,  the  sweet  home  of  their  infancy,  the  proud  seat  of  ancient 
empire,  endeared  to  them  by  so  many  tender  and  glorious  recollections.*2 

The  march  was  conducted  in  an  orderly  manner,  with  but  a  single  interrup- 
tion, which,  however,  was  near  being  attended  by  the  most  disastrous  conse- 
quences. A  Spanish  alguazil,  offended  at  some  words  that  fell  from  one  of 
the  prisoners,— for  so  they  might  be  called, — requited  them  with  a  blow  from 
his  staff.  But  the  youth  whom  he  struck  had  the  fiery  blood  of  the  Arab  in 
his  veins.  Snatching  up  a  broken  tile,  he  dealt  such  a  blow  on  the  oiiender's 
head  as  nearly  severed  nis  ear  from  it.  The  act  cost  him  his  life.  He  was 
speedily  cut  down  by  the  Spaniards,  who  rushed  to  the  assistance  of  their 
wounded  comrade.  A  rumour  now  went  round  that  the  Moriseoes  had 
attempted  the  life  of  Don  John,  whose  dress  resembled  in  its  colour  that  of 
the  alguazil.  The  passions  of  the  soldiery  were  roused.  They  flocked  to  the 
scene  of  violence,  uttering  the  most  dreadful  imprecations.  Their  swords  and 
lances  glittered  in  the  air,  and  in  a  few  moments  would  have  been  sheathed  in 
the  bodies  of  their  terrified  victims. 

Fortunately,  the  quick  eye  of  Don  John  discerned  the  confusion.  Surrounded 
by  a  body-guard  of  arquebusiers,  he  was  there  in  person  to  superintend  the 
removal  of  the  Moriseoes.  Spurring  his  horse  forward  into  the  midst  of  the 
tumult,  and  showing  himself  to  the  troops,  he  exclaimed  that  no  one  ha< 
offered  him  any  harm.  He  called  on  them  to  return  to  their  duty,  and  not  to 
dishonour  him.  as  well  as  themselves,  by  offering  violence  to  innocent  men,  for 
whose  protection  he  had  so  solemnly  pledged  his  word.  The  soldiers,  abashed 
by  the  rebuke  of  their  young  chief,  and  satisfied  with  the  vengeance  they  had 
taken  on  the  offender,  fell  back  into  their  ranks.  The  trembling  Moriseoes 
gradually  recovered  from  their  panic,  the  procession  resumed  its  march,  and 
without  further  interruption  reached  the  hospital  of  Isabella." 

There  the  royal  contadores  were  not  long  in  ascertaining  the  number  of  the 
exiles.  It  amounted  to  thirty-five  hundred.  That  of  the  women,  who  were 
soon  to  follow,  was  much  greater.54  The  names,  the  ages,  and  the  occupations 
of  the  men  were  all  carefully  registered.  The  following  day  they  were  marched 
into  the  great  square  before  the  hospital,  where  they  were  distributed  into 
companies,  each  under  a  strong  escort,  to  be  conducted  to  their  various  places 
of  destination.  These,  far  from  being  confined  to  Andalusia,  reached  into 
New  Castile.  In  this  arrangement  we  may  trust  that  so  much  respect  was 
paid  to  the  dictates  of  humanity  as  not  to  separate  those  of  the  same  kindred 
from  one  another.  But  the  chroniclers  give  no  information  on  the  subject, 
— probably  regarding  details  of  this  sort  in  regard  to  the  fallen  race  as  below 
the  dignity  of  history. 

"  "  Puerto*  en  In  cuerda,  con  guarda  d<>  In-  lo  que  BO  baria  de  BUS  cabetas."    Marmot, 

fantcrU   I  cavallcria  por  una  i  otra  parte."  ItebHIun  de  Granada,  tain.  II.  p.  103. 

Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  147.  "  Marinol,  R*b«-llonde  itran.ula.  lorn.  li.  p. 

"  MFue  on  miserable  eapectaculo,"iiayB  an  103.— Meiidoxa,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  147. — 

eye-wilneM.  ••  ver  tanu*  Iwmibres  de  toilaa  Both  historians  wre  present  on  tlitn  occasion, 

edaden,  la*  calx>zas  haxa.*,  Ian  inaium  cruzadaa  "   "  Loa  que  (aileron  pur  tutus  trea  mil  I 

y  Ion  rofttru*  bafiadiM  de  lag'tinaa.  con  IK-MI-  quinlentof,   tl   nuinero  de  niUKcrc*    mucho 

blante  doloroso  y  trtste,  vlendo  que  dexaban  m.iyor."     Meixlutt,  Uuerra  <te  Uranada,   p. 

BUB  rrgalada*  raoan,  BUB  familiar.  KU  patria.  y  147. 
tanto  bien  couio  Ionian,  y  auu  no  gabian  cierto 


556  REBELLION  OF  THE  MOR1SCOES. 

It  was  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  June,  1569,  that,  bidding  a  sad  farewell  to 
the  friends  and  companions  of  their  youth,  from  whom  they  were  now  to  be  for 
ever  parted,  they  set  forth  on  their  doleful  pilgrimage.  The  morning  light 
had  broken  on  the  red  towers  of  the  Alhambra,  as  the  bands  of  exiles, 
issuing  from  the  gates  of  their  beloved  capital,  the  spot  dearest  to  them  upon 
earth,  turned  their  faces  towards  their  new  homes, — homes  which  many  of 
them  were  destined  never  to  behold.  The  government,  with  shameful  indiffer- 
ence, had  neglected  to  provide  for  the  poor  wanderers  the  most  common 
necessaries  of  life.  Some  actually  perished  of  hunger  by  the  way.  Others, 
especially  those  accustomed  from  infancy  to  a  delicate  nurture,  sank  down 
and  died  of  fatigue.  Some  were  seized  by  the  soldiers,  whose  cupidity  was 
roused  by  the  sight  of  their  helplessness,  and  were  sold  as  slaves.  Others 
were  murdered  by  their  guards  in  cold  blood."  Thus  reduced  far  below  their 
original  number,  they  reached  their  appointed  places,  there  to  linger  out  the 
remainder  of  their  days  in  the  midst  of  a  population  who  held  them  in  that 
abhorrence  with  which  a  good  Catholic  of  tne  sixteenth  century  regarded  "  the 
enemies  of  God." 58 

But  the  evils  which  grew  out  of  this  stern  policy  of  the  government  were 
not  wholly  confined  to  the  Moriscoes.  This  ingenious  people  were  so  far 
superior  to  the  Spaniards  in  the  knowledge  of  husbandry  and  in  the  various 
mechanic  arts  that  they  formed  the  most  important  part  of  the  population  of 
Granada.  The  only  art  in  which  their  rivals  excelled  them  was  that  which 
thrives  at  the  expense  of  every  other, — the  art  of  war.  Aware  of  this,  the 
government  had  excepted  some  of  the  best  artisans  in  the  capital  from  the 
doom  of  exile  which  had  fallen  on  their  countrymen,  and  they  had  accordingly 
remained  in  the  city.  But  their  number  was  too  small  to  produce  the  result 
desired  ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  quarter  of  the  town  which  had  been 
occupied  by  the  Moriscoes  exhibited  a  scene  of  woeful  desolation.  The  light 
and  airy  edifices,  which  displayed  in  their  forms  the  fantastic  graces  of  Arabian 
architecture,  fell  speedily  into  decay.  The  parterres  and  pleasure-grounds, 
filled  with  exotics  and  glowing  in  all  the  exuberance  of  southern  vegetation, 
became  a  wilderness  of  weeds  ;  and  the  court-yards  and  public  squares,  where 
tanks  and  sparkling  fountains,  fed  by  the  streams  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  shed 
a  refreshing  coolness  over  the  atmosphere  in  the  sultriest  months  of  summer, 
were  soon  converted  into  a  melancholy  heap  of  rubbish. 

The  mischiefs  growing  out  of  the  removal  of  the  Moriscoes  fell  sorely  on 
the  army.  The  men  hau  been  quartered,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  houses  of  the 
Moriscoes.  From  the  present  occupants,  for  the  most  part  needy  and  thrift- 
less speculators,  they  met  with  very  different  fare  from  what  they  had  enjoyed 
under  the  former  wealthy  and  luxurious  proprietors.  The  troops  supplied  the 
deficiency,  as  far  as  they  could,  by  plundering  the  citizens.  Hence  incessant 
feuds  arose  between  the  people  and  the  army,  and  a  spirit  of  insubordination 
rapidly  grew  up  in  the  latter,  which  made  it  more  formidable  to  its  friends 
than  to  its  foes.57 

An  eye-witness  of  these  troubles  closes  his  narrative  of  the  removal  of  the 
Moriscoes  by  remarking  that  it  was  a  sad  spectacle  to  one  who  reflected  on  the 
former  policy  and  prosperity  of  this  ill-starred  race  ;  who  had  seen  their  sump- 

"  "Muchos  tnurieron  por  los  caminos  de  phrase  by  which  Moriscoes,  as  well  as  Mo»rs, 

trabajo,  de  cansancio,  de  p'-sar,  de  hambre  ;  a  came  now  to  be  denominated  by  the  Chris- 

hierro,  por  mano  de  log  mismos  qne  los  havian  tians. 

de  gnardar,  robados,  vendldos  por  cuutlvos."  "  Mt  ndoza,  Gueira  de  Grauada,  pp.  148- 

Mendoza,  Gnerra  de  Granada,  p.  148.  150. 

*•  "  Los  enemigos  de  Dios," — the  charitable 


OPERATIONS  OF  LOS  VELEZ.  557 

tuous  mansions  in  the  day  of  their  glory,  their  gardens  and  pleasure-grounds, 
the  scene  of  many  a  gay  revel  and  jocund  holiday,  and  who  now  contrasted  all 
this  with  the  ruin  into  which  everything  had  fallen.58  "  It  seems,"  he  con- 
cludes, "as  if  Providence  had  intended  to  show,  by  the  fate  of  this-  beautiful 
city,  that  the  fairest  things  in  this  world  are  the  most  subject  to  decay."  *•  To 
the  philosopher  of  the  present  age  it  may  seem  rather  the  natural  result  of 
that  system  of  religious  intolerance  which  had  converted  into  enemies  those 
who,  under  a  beneficent  rule,  would  have  been  true  and  loyal  subjects,  and 
who  by  their  industry  and  skill  would  have  added  incalculably  to  the  resources 
of  the  country. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

REBELLION  07  THE   MORISCOE9. 

Operations  of  Los  Velez— Conspiracy  against  Aben-Humeya— His  Assassination— Election  of 
Aben-Aboo— Vigorous  Prosecution  of  the  War — Fierce  Combats  in  the  Vega — Impetuous 
Spirit  of  Don  John— Surpme  of  Guejar. 

1569. 

WHILE  the  events  related  in  the  preceding  chapter  were  occurring,  the  marquis 
of  Los  Velez  lay,  with  a  considerable  force,  at  Adra,  a  port  on  the  Mediterra- 
nean, at  the  foot  of  the  Alpujarras,  which  he  had  selected  chiefly  from  the 
facilities  it  would  afford  him  for  getting  supplies  for  his  army.  In  this  he  was 
disappointed.  Before  the  month  of  June  had  expired,  his  troops  had  begun  to 
be  straitened  for  provisions.  The  evil  went  on  increasing  from  day  to  day. 
His  levies,  composed  chiefly  of  raw  recruits  from  Andalusia,  were  full  of  that 
independent  and  indeed  turbulent  spirit  which  belongs  to  an  ill-disciplined 
militia.  There  was  no  lack  of  courage  in  the  soldiery.  But  the  same  men 
w  ho  had  fearlessly  braved  the  dangers  of  the  campaign,  now,  growing  impatient 
under  the  pinch  of  hunger,  abandoned  their  colours  in  great  numbers. 

There  were  various  causes  for  the  deficiency  of  supplies.  The  principal  one 
of  these  may  probably  be  found  in  the  remissness  of  the  council  of  war,  several 
of  whose  members  regarded  the  marquis  with  an  evil  eye  and  were  not  sorry 
to  see  his  embarrassments. 

Some  vigorous  measures  were  instantly  to  be  taken,  or  the  army,  it  was 
evident,  would  soon  altogether  melt  away.  By  the  king's  command,  orders 
were  despatched  to  Requesens,  who  lay  with  his  squadron  off  the  port  of  Velez 
Malaga,  to  supply  the  camp  with  provisions,  while  it  received  reinforcements, 
as  before,  principally  from  the  Andalusian  militia.  The  army  received  a  still 
more  important  accession  in  the  well-disciplined  veterans  who  had  followed  the 
grand  commander  from  Italy.  Thus  strengthened,  and  provisioned  for  a  week 
or  more,  Los  Velez,  at  the  head  of  twelve  thousand  men,  set  forth  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  July  and  struck  at  once  into  the  Alpujarras.  He  had  been 
directed  by  the  council  to  establish  himself  at  Ugijar,  which  by  its  central 
position  would  enable  him  to  watch  the  movements  of  Aben-IIumeya  and  act 
on  any  point  as  occasion  required. 

w  "  Qued6  grandlcima  lartlma  »  ln«  que  dp  Oranada,  torn.  \l.  p.  104. 

hablendo  virto  la  p-oaperidad,  la  jxiliri.i,  y  el  '*  "  I'arecia  bleu  ertar  sujrta  aqtirlla  frllrl- 

rpgalo  Ae  las  c»pas,  canw  n«>s  y  guerta*.  dunde  pim.i  cludad  ii  til  dr.-truicion,  para  quc  w>  *n- 

1n*  Muriaco*  Ionian  todas  sui  recreacionr*  y  tl«>nda  que  las  co*as  mas  wplendidn*  y  florid. is 

pa*at tempo*,  y  AcrAe  &  poro*  diafl  lo  vleron  (litre   la   gent*  entan   mas  a- armada*   M  los 

todo  asolado  y  dtstrutdu."    Maimol,  Rfbi  lion  g»lpes  de  fortuna,"    Marmot,  iibi  mipra. 


558  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

The  marquis,  without  difficulty,  defeated  a  force  of  some  five  or  six  thousand 
men  who  had  been  stationed  to  oppose  his  entrance  into  the  mountain-country. 
He  then  pressed  forward,  and  on  the  high  lands  beyond  Ugijar—  which  place 
he  had  already  occupied— he  came  in  sight  of  Aben-Humeya,  with  the  flower 
of  his  troops,  drawn  up  to  receive  him. 

The  two  chiefs,  in  their  characters,  their  persons,  and  their  equipments, 
might  be  considered  as  no  bad  types  of  the  European  and  the  Arab  chivalry. 
The  marquis,  sheathed  in  complete  mail  of  a  sable  colour,  and  mounted  on  his 
heavy  war-horse  also  covered  with  armour,  was  to  be  seen  brandishing  a  lance 
which,  short  and  thick,  seemed  rather  like  a  truncheon,  as  he  led  his  men 
boldly  on,  prepared  to  plunge  at  once  into  the  thick  of  the  fight.1  He  was 
the  very  emblem  of  brute  force.  Aben-Humeya,  on  the  other  hand,  gracefully 
managing  his  swift-footed  snow- white  Andalusian,  with  his  Morisco  mantle  of 
crimson  floating  lightly  from  his  shoulders,  and  his  Turkish  turban  wreathed 
around  his  head,*  instead  of  force,  suggested  the  opposite  ideas  of  agility  and 
adroitness,  so  characteristic  of  the  children  of  the  East. 

Riding  along  his  lines,  the  Morisco  prince  exhorted  his  followers  not  to  fear 
the  name  of  Los  Velez ;  for  in  the  hour  of  danger  God  would  aid  his  own  ;  and 
better  was  it,  at  any  rate,  to  die  like  brave  men  in  the  field,  than  to  live  dis- 
honoured.3 Notwithstanding  these  magnanimous  words,  it  was  far  from  Aben- 
Humeya's  wish  to  meet  his  enemy  in  a  fair  field  of  fight.  It  was  contrary  to 
the  genius  and  the  habit  of  his  warfare,  which  was  of  the  guerilla  kind,  abound- 
ing in  sallies  and  surprises,  in  which,  seeking  some  vulnerable  point,  he  could 
deal  his  blow  and  retreat  precipitately  among  the  mountains. 

Yet  his  followers,  though  greatly  inferior  in  numbers  to  the  enemy,  behaved 
with  spirit ;  and  the  field  was  well  contested,  till  a  body  of  Andalusian  horse, 
making  a  detour  under  cover  of  some  rising  ground,  fell  unexpectedly  on  the 
rear  of  the  Moriscoes  and  threw  them  into  confusion.  The  marquis  pressing 
them  at  the  same  time  vigorously  in  front,  they  broke,  and  soon  gave  way  on 
all  sides.  Aben-Humeya,  perceiving  the  day  lost,  gave  the  rein  to  his  high- 
mettled  genet,  who  swiftly  bore  him  from  the  field  ;  and,  though  hotly  pursued, 
he  soon  left  his  enemies  behind.  On  reaching  the  foot  of  the  Sierra  Nevada 
the  chief  dismounted,  and,  hamstringing  his  noble  animal,  plunged  into  the 
depths  of  the  mountains,  which  again  opened  their  friendly  arms  to  receive 
him.4  Yet  he  did  not  remain  there  long  before  he  was  joined  by  his  followers ; 
and  no  sooner  was  he  in  sufficient  strength  than  he  showed  himself  on  the 
eastern  skirts  of  the  sierra,  whence,  like  an  eagle  stooping  on  his  prey,  he 
rushed  down  upon  the  plains  below,  sweeping  through  the  rich  valley  of  the 
Rio  de  Almanzora,  and  carrying  fire  and  sword  to  the  very  borders  of  Murcia. 
Here  he  revenged  himself  on  Los  Velez  by  falling  on  his  town  of  Las  Cuevas, 
firing  his  dwellings,  ravaging  his  estates,  and  rousing  his  Morisco  vassals  to 
rebellion.4 

*  "Armado  de  unas  annas  negras  de  la  muerte  con  Ins  armas  en  Ins  manos,  que  Irs 

color  del  acero,  y  una  celada  en  la  cabeza  Uena  estaba  mejor  que  vivir  deshonrados."    Ibid., 

de  plumages,  y  una  gruesa  lanza  en  la  mano  p.  134. 

mas  recia  que  larga."    Mannol,  Rebelion  de  *  "  Y  apeandose  del  caballo,  le  hizo  desjar- 

Granada,  torn.  11.  p.  133.  retar,  y  se  embrefto  en  las  sierras."     Ibid., 

1  "  Andaba  Aben  Umeya  vlstoso  delantede  loc.  cit.— Hita  commemorates  the  flight  of  the 

todos  en  un  caballo  bianco  con  una  aljuba  de  "  little  king  "  of  the  Alpujarras  in  one  of  his 

grana  veetida,  y  un  turbante  turqucsco  en  la  ballads.    Guerras   de   Granada,,  torn.  li.  p. 

cabeza."    Ibid.,  p.  134.  310. 

'  "No  temiesen  el  vano  nombre  del  Mar-  5  Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  y>.  209. — 

ques  de   los  Velez,  porque  en  los  may'ires  Ufarmol,  Rcbplion  de  GraMmlu,  t"m.  ii.  p.  150. 

trabalos  acudia  Dios  u  los  suyos  ;  y  quando  — Hita,  Guerras  de  Uraruda,  totu.  ii.  p.  233. 
les  fultase,  no  les  podriu  faltur  una  hunrosa 


OPERATIONS  OF  LOS  VELEZ.  C59 

Meanwhile,  the  marquis,  instead  of  following  up  his  victory,  remained  torpid 
within  the  walls  of  Cafahorra.  Here  he  had  desired  the  council  to  provide 
stores  for  the  subsistence  of  his  army.  To  his  dismay,  none  had  been  provided  ; 
and,  as  his  own  attempts  to  procure  them  were  unsuccessful,  he  soon  found 
himself  in  the  same  condition  as  at  Adra.  The  famine-stricken  troops,  with 
little  pay  and  less  plunder,  first  became  discontented,  then  mutinous,  and  at 
length  deserted  in  great  numbers.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  irascible  old  chief 
poured  out  his  wrath  in  menaces  and  imprecations.  His  arrogant  temper  had 
made  him  hated  even  more  than  he  was  feared  by  his  soldiers.  They  now 
went  off,  not  stealthily  and  by  night,  but  in  the  open  day,  whole  companies  at 
a  time,  their  arquebuses  on  their  shoulders  and  their  matches  lighted.8  When 
Don  Diego  Fajardo,  the  marquis's  son,  endeavoured  to  stay  them,  one,  more 
audacious  than  the  rest,  lodged  a  musket-ball  in  his  body.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  gallant  array  with  which  the  marquis  had  so  proudly  entered  the 
Alpmarras  was  reduced  to  less  than  three  thousand  men.  Among  them  were 
the  Italian  veterans,  who  refused  to  tarnish  their  well-earned  laurels  by  thus 
basely  abandoning  their  commander. 

The  council  of  "war  complained  loudly  to  the  king  of  the  fatal  inactivity  of 
the  marquis,  and  of  his  neglect  to  follow  up  the  advantages  he  had  gained. 
Los  Velez  angrily  retorted  by  throwing  the  blame  on  that  body,  for  neglecting 
to  furnish  him  with  the  supplies  which  would  have  enabled  him  to  do  so. 
Philip,  alarmed,  with  reason,  at  the  critical  aspect  of  affairs,  ordered  the 
marquis  of  Mondejar  to  repair  to  court,  that  he  might  confer  with  him  on  the 
state  of  the  country.  This  was  the  avowed  motive  for  his  recall.  But  in  truth 
it  seems  probable  that  the  king,  aware  of  that  nobleman's  leaning  to  a  pacific 
policy  and  of  his  personal  hostility  to  Los  Velez,  deemed  it  best  to  remove  him 
altogether  from  any  share  in  the  conduct  of  the  war.  This  he  did  most  effec- 
tually, by  sending  him  into  honourable  exile,  first  appointing  him  viceroy  of 
Valencia,  and  afterwards  raising  him  to  the  important  post  of  viceroy  of 
Naples.  From  this  period  the  name  of  Mondejar  no  more  appears  on  the 
theatre  of  the  Morisco  war.7 

The  marquis  did  not  win  the  favour  to  which  he  was  entitled  by  his  deserts. 
He  seems  to  have  possessed  some  of  the  best  qualities  of  a  good  captain.  Bold 
in  action,  he  was  circumspect  in  council.  Slow  and  sagacious  in  the  formation 
of  his  plans,  he  carried  tnem  out  with  singular  perseverance.  He  knew  the 
country  well  which  was  the  ?eat  of  the  insurrection,  and  perfectly  understood 
the  character  of  its  inhabitants.  What  was  more  rare,  he  made  allowance  for 
the  excesses  into  which  they  had  been  drawn  by  a  long  course  of  insult  and 
oppression.  The  humanity  of  his  disposition  combined  with  his  views  of  policy 
to  make  him  rely  more  on  conciliatory  measures  than  on  fear,  for  the  reduction 
of  the  enemy.  How  well  this  worked  we  have  seen.  Had  he  been  properly 
supported  by  those  engaged  with  him  in  the  direction  of  affairs,  we  can  hardly 
doiibt  of  his  ultimate  success.  But,  unhappily,  the  two  mast  prominent  of 
these,  the  President  Deza  and  the  marquis  of  Los  Velez,  were  narrow-minded, 
implacable  bigots,  who,  far  from  feeling  compassion  for  the  Moriscoes,  looked 
on  the  whole  race  as  "God's  enemies."  Unfortunately,  these  views  found 
favour  with  the  government ;  and  Philip,  who  rightly  thought  that  the  marquis 
of  Mondejar  would  only  prove  a  hinderance  to  carrying  on  hostilities  with 
vigour,  acted  consistently  in  sending  him  from  the  country.  Yet,  while  he  was 
thus  removed  from  the  conduct  of  the  war,  it  may  be  thought  an  unequivocal 

•  "I  tan  adelarite  pa«6  la  dt-oorden,  que  n«  '  Menduni,  Guemi  de  Granada,  p.  198,  ct 

JunUron  quatroclentoA  arcabuceros,  1  con  las  seq.— Maruiol,  Hebelion  tie  Uranada,  turn.  ii. 

mechas  en  las  aerptntlniu  nalleron  a  viiu  del  p.  uti. 
campo."  Mendoza  Uuerrade  Granada,  p.  195. 


560  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

acknowledgment  of  Mondejar's  deserts  that  he  was  transferred  to  the  most 
considerable  post  in  the  gift  of  the  crown. 

Before  the  marquis's  departure,  Philip  had  transferred  his  court  to  Cordova, 
in  order  to  facilitate  his  communication  with  the  seat  of  war.  He  hoped,  too, 
that  the  knowledge  of  his  being  so  near  would  place  some  check  on  the  dis- 
orderly temper  of  the  soldiery  and  animate  them  with  more  loyal  and  patriotic 
feelings.  In  this  way  of  proceeding  he  considered  himself  as  imitating  the 
example  of  his  great  ancestors,  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  who,  during  the  war 
of  Granada,  usually  transferred  their  court  to  one  of  the  capitals  of  the  south. 
He  did  not,  however,  think  it  necessary,  like  them,  to  lead  his  armies  in 
person  and  share  in  the  toils  of  the  campaign. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  October,  Philip  published  an  edict  which  intimated  his 
design  of  following  up  the  war  with  vigour.  It  commanded  that  such  of  the 
Moriscoes  as  had  hitherto  been  allowed  to  remain  in  Granada  should  now  be 
removed  from  it,  in  order  that  no  means  of  communication  might  be  left  to 
them  with  their  brethren  in  the  mountains.  It  was  further  proclaimed  that 
the  war  henceforth  was  to  be  carried  on  with  "  fire  and  blood," 8— in  other 
words,  that  no  mercy  was  to  be  shown  the  insurgents.  This  was  the  first 
occasion  on  which  this  fierce  denunciation  had  been  made  by  the  government. 
To  reconcile  the  rnilitia  of  the  towns  to  the  service,  their  pay  was  to  be  raised 
to  a  level  with  that  of  the  Italian  volunteers ;  and  to  relieve  the  towns,  the 
greater  part  of  the  expense  was  to  be  borne  by  the  crown.  Before  the  publi- 
cation of  this  ordinance  the  king  had  received  intelligence  of  an  event  un- 
expected alike  by  Christian  and  by  Moslem, — the  death  of  Aben-Humeya, 
and  that  by  the  hands  of  some  of  his  own  followers. 

The  Morisco  prince,  after  carrying  the  war  up  to  the  borders  of  Murcia,  laid 
siege  to  two  or  three  places  of  strength  in  that  quarter.  As  might  have  been 
expected,  he  failed  in  these  attempts,  from  his  want  of  battering-artillery. 
Thus  foiled,  he  led  back  his  forces  into  the  Alpujarras,  and  established  his 
quarters  in  the  ancient  Moorish  palace  of  Lanjaron,  on  the  slopes  of  the 
mountains  commanding  the  beautiful  valley  of  Lecrin.  Here  the  torpid  con- 
dition of  the  Spaniards  under  Los  Velez  allowed  the  young  monarch  to  remain, 
and  give  himself  up  to  those  sensual  indulgences  with  which  the  Moslem 
princes  of  the  East  were  apt  to  solace  their  leisure  in  the  intervals  of  war. 
His  harem  rivalled  that  of  any  Oriental  satrap  in  the  number  of  its  inmates. 
This  was  strange  to  the  Moriscoes,  who,  since  their  nominal  conversion  to 
Christianity,  had  of  course  repudiated  polygamy.  In  the  eyes  of  the  Moslems 
it  might  pass  for  good  evidence  of  their  prince's  orthodoxy. 

Ever  since  Aben-Humeya's  ascent  to  the  throne  he  had  been  declining  in 
popularity.  His  handsome  person,  the  courtesy  of  his  manners,  his  chivalrous 
spirit,  and  his  devotion  to  the  cause  had  easily  won  him  the  affections  of  his 
subjects.  But  a  too  sudden  elevation  had  unfortunately  that  effect  on  him 
which  it  is  wont  to  have  on  weak  minds  without  any  settled  principles  or  lofty 
aim  to  guide  them.  Possessed  of  power,  he  became  tyrannical  in  the  use  of  it.' 
His  arbitrary  acts  created  enemies,  not  the  less  dangerous  that  they  were  con- 
cealed. The  consciousness  of  the  wrongs  he  had  committed  made  him  sus- 
picious. He  surrounded  himself  with  a  body-guard  of  four  hundred  men. 
Sixteen  hundred  more  were  quartered  in  the  place  where  he  was  residing ; 
and  the  principal  avenues  to  it,  we  are  told,  were  defended  by  barricades.10 

•  "  Qne  se  publicise  la  guerra  a  fupgo  y  a        nada,  p.  209. 

sangre."    Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  10  "  Teniendo  barreadas  la«calles  del  lugar 

ii.  p.  160.  de  manera.  que  nadie  pndiese  entrar  en  el  sin 

•  "Vivia  ya  con  estado  d°  Rei,  ppro  con  ser  virto  6  sentido."    Marmol,  Rebelion  da 
arbitrio  de  tirano." — Menduza,  Guerra  de  Ora-  Granada,  torn.  1!.  p.  163. 


CONSPIRACY  AGAINST  ABEN-HUMEYA.  661 

Those  whom  he  suspected  he  treated  with  particular  kindness.  He  drew  them 
around  his  person,  overwhelmed  them  with  favours,  and,  when  he  had  won 
them  by  a  show  of  conridence,  he  struck  the  fatal  blow."  During  the  short 
period  of  his  reign  no  less  tha'n  three  hundred  and  fifty  persons,  we  are 
assured,  fell  virti.i.s  to  his  jealou-y  or  his  revenge.12 

Among  Aben-Humeya's  orticers  was  one  named  Diego  Alguazil,  who  had  a 
beautiful  kinswoman,  with  whom  he  lived,  it  is  said,  on  terms  of  greater  inti- 
macy than  was  justified  by  the  relationship  of  the  parties.  As  he  was  one  day 
imprudently  speaking  of  ner  to  Aben-Huuieya  in  the  glowing  language  of  a 
lover,  the  curiosity  of  the  king  was  so  much  inflamed  by  it  that  he  desired  to 
see  her.  In  addition  to  her  jjersonal  charms,  the  fair  Zahara  was  mistress  of 
many  accomplishments  which  rendered  her  still  more  attractive.  She  had  a 
sweet  voice,  which  she  accompanied  bewitchingly  on  the  lute,  and  in  her 
dancing  displayed  all  the  soft  and  voluptuous  movements  of  the  dark-eyed 
beauties  of  Andalusia.1*  When  brought  before  the  king,  she  did  her  be>t  to 
please  him  ;  for,  though  attached,  as  it  seems,  to  her  kinsman,  the  ambitious 
coquette  had  no  objection  to  having  a  royal  suitor  in  her  chains.  In  this  she 
perfectly  succeeded  ;  and  the  enamoured  prince  intimated  his  desire  to  Alguazil 
that  he  would  resign  to  him  the  possession  of  his  mistress.  But  the  Morisco 
loved  her  too  well ;  and  neither  threats  nor  promises  of  the  most  extravagant 
kind  were  able  to  extort  his  consent.  Thus  baffled,  the  reckless  Aben-Hnnieya, 
consulting  only  his  passion,  caused  the  perhaps  not  reluctant  Zahara  to  be 
taken  by  force  and  lodged  in  his  harem.  By  this  act  he  made  a  mortal  enemy 
of  Alguazil. 

Nor  did  -he  long  enjoy  the  favour  of  his  new  mistress,  who,  come  of  an 
ancient  lineage  in  Granaoa,14  had  hoped  to  share  the  throne  of  the  Morisco 
monarch.  But  Aben-Humeya's  passion  did  not  carry  him  to  this  extent  of 
complaisance ;  and  Zahara,  indignant  at  finding  herself  degraded  to  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  seraglio,  soon  breathed  only  a  desire  for  vengeance.  In  this 
state  of  things  she  found  the  means  of  communicating  with  her  kinsman,  and 
arranged  with  him  a  plan  for  carrying  their  murderous  intent  into  execution. 

The  most  important  corps  in  the  Morisco  army  was  that  of  the  Turkish 
mercenaries.  But  they  were  so  fierce  and  turbulent  a  race  that  Aben-Humeya 
paid  dear  for  their  services.  A  strong  body  of  these  troops  Jay  on  the  fron- 
tiers of  Orgiba,  under  the  command  of  Aben-Aboo, — a  near  relative  of  the 
Morisco  prince,  whose  life,  it  may  be  remembered,  he  liad  once  saved,  by  sub- 
mitting to  every  extremity  of  torture  rather  than  betray  his  lurking-place. 
To  this  commander  Aben-Humeya  despatched  a  messenger,  directing  nun  to 
engage  the  Turks  in  a  certain  expedition,  which  would  serve  both  to  give  them 
eniployment  and  to  satisfy  their  appetite  for  plunder. 

The  time  named  for  the  messenger's  departure  was  communicated  by  Zahara 

11  Mendoza,  Guerre  de  Granada,  p.  210.—  blanca  e»  y  colorada. 

Such  is  the  Tiberius-like  portrait  given  of  him  como  la  rosa  man  flna ; 

^L'S  e1en7'"7,^  T6',  k°weverl  ti.™*Z  *f  "  Tane,  dania,  canta  a  estremo, 

added,  who  lor  Hberal  vi,ws  and  fur  dNcriml-  e'g  „„  fncmtn  e,  0,rU 

nation  of  character  was  not  Mirpassed  by  any  ^  m         bo,u     Rr(lciolMl 

chronicler  of  ha  time.  nftdle  vh5  u,  ,,,?  8U  v,d.  .. 

1  "  Los  cuales  pasaron  d«  trescientos  cln-  j^    t         (l        32< 
cuenta,  segun  yo  he  sido  infonnado  de  varies 

moriscos  que  seguian  BUS  banderas :  y  dc  tal  The  severer  pencil   of  Mendoza  does  IK* 

manera  proredla  el  reyecillo,  que  vino  a  ser  di«d:iin  the  xanie  warm  colouring  for  the  por- 

odiosfsiino  a  los  suyos  por  sun  crueldades."  trait  of  the  MorUco  U-auty.    Uutrradc  tira- 

Hlta,  Guerras  de  Granada,  torn.  II.  p.  303.  nada,  p.  2i:t. 

"   "Mu«fr  igualmente   berroo«a  1  de    1.- 

"  nago."    M^ndoSubi^pra. 


562  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOE8. 

to  her  kinsman,  who  caused  him  to  be  waylaid  and  murdered  and  his  despatches 
to  be  secured.  He  then  had  a  letter  written  to  Aben-Abop,  which  bore  appa- 
rently the  royal  signature.  This  was  counterfeited  by  his  nephew,  a  young 
man  then  holding  the  post  of  secretary  to  Aben-Humeya,  with  whom  he  h°^ 
lately  conceived  some  cause  of  disgust.  The  letter  stated  that  the  insuboru.- 
nation  of  the  Turks  made  them  dangerous  to  the  state,  and  that  in  some  way 
or  other  they  must  be  removed,  and  that  speedily.  With  this  view,  Abeu- 
Aboo  was  directed  to  march  them  to  Hecina,  on  the  frontiers  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  where  he  would  be  joined  by  Diego  Alguazil,  with  a  party  of  soldiers, 
to  assist  him  in  carrying  the  plan  into  execution.  The  best  mode,  it  was 
suggested,  of  getting  rid  of  the  Turks  would  be  by  poison. 

This  letter  was  despatched  by  a  courier,  who  was  speedily  followed  by 
Alguazil  and  a  hundred  soldiers,  as  the  cunning  conspirator  desired  to  present 
himself  before  Aben-Aboo  without  leaving  him  time  for  consideration. 

He  found  that  commander  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  perplexity  and  conster- 
nation. Alguazil  declared  that  he  had  come  in  consequence  of  certain  instruc- 
tions he  had  received  from  the  king,  of  too  atrocious  a  nature  for  him  to 
execute.  Aben-Aboo  had  as  little  mind  to  perform  the  bloody  work  assigned 
to  him.  He  had  no  distrust  of  the  genuineness  of  the  letter.  Hosceyn,  the 
commander  of  the  Turks,  happening  to  pass  the  house  at  that  time,  was  called 
in,  and  the  despatches  were  shown  to  him.  The  fiery  chief  insisted  on  com- 
municating them  to  some  of  his  comrades.  The  greatest  indignation  prevailed 
among  the  Turkish  leaders,  outraged  by  this  base  treachery  of  the  very  man 
whom  they  had  come  to  serve  at  the  peril  of  their  lives.  They  one  and  all 
demanded,  not  his  deposition,  but  his  death.  Diego  Alguazil  saw  that  his 
scheme  was  working  well.  He  artfully  fanned  the  flame,  and  professed  to 
share  deeply  in  the  indignation  of  the  Moslems.  It  was  at  length  agreed  to 
put  the  tyrant  to  death  and  to  offer  the  crown  to  Aben-Aboo. 

This  chieftain  enjoyed  a  high  reputation  for  sagacity  and  prudence.  His 
passions,  unlike  those  of  Aben-Humeya,  seemed  ever  under  the  control  of  his 
reason ;  and,  far  from  indulging  an  ill-regulated  ambition,  he  had  been  always 
faithful  to  his  trust.  But  the  present  temptation  was  too  strong  for  his 
virtue.  He  may  have  thought  that,  since  the  throne  was  to  be  vacant,  the 
descendant  of  the  Omeyas  had  a  better  claim  to  it  than  any  other.  Whatever 
may  have  been  the  sophistry  to  which  he  yielded,  he  knew  that  those  who  now 
promised  him  the  crown  had  the  power  to  make  their  promise  good.  He  gave 
his  assent,  on  condition  that  in  the  course  of  three  months  his  election 
should  be  confirmed  by  the  dey  of  Algiers,  as  the  representative  of  the  Turkish 
sultan. 

Having  arranged  their  plans,  the  conspirators  lost  no  time  in  putting  them 
in  execution.  They  set  out  that  very  hour,  on  the  evening  of  the  third 
of  October,  for  Lanjaron,  with  a  body  of  four  hundred  troops, — one  half  being 
Turks,  the  other  Moriscoes.  By  midnight  they  reached  their  place  of  destina- 
tion. Diego  Alguazil  and  the  Turkish  captains  were  too  well  known  as 
enjoying  the  confidence  of  Aben-Humeya  to  meet  with  any  opposition  to  their 
entrance  into  the  town.  Nor,  though  the  Morisco  king  had  retired  to  rest, 
did  the  guard  oppose  any  difficulty  to  their  passing  into  his  dwelling.  Pro- 
ceeding to  his  chamber,  they  found  the  doors  secured,  but  speedily  forced  an 
entrance.  Neither  arm  nor  voice  was  raised  in  his  defence.15 

Aben-Humeya,  roused  from  sleep  by  the  tumult,  would  have  sprung  from 
his  couch ;  but  the  faithless  Zahara  held  him  fast  in  her  embrace  until  Diego 

"  "  Ningnno  buvo  que  tomase  las  armas,  ni  bolviese  de  palabra  por  el."  Mendoza,  Guerra 
de  Granada,  p.  217. 


ASSASSINATION  OF   ABEN-HUMEYA.  563 

Alguazil  and  some  others  of  the  conspirators,  rushing  in,  bound  his  arms 
together  with  a  Moorish  veil.1*  Indeed,  he  was  so  much  oewildered  as  scarcely 
to  attempt  resistance. 

The  Turkish  commander  then  showed  him  the  letter.  Aben-Hnmeya 
.fkJgnized  the  writing  of  his  secretary,  but  declared  that  he  had  never  dictated 
such  a  letter,  nor  was  the  signature  nis.  How  far  his  assertion  gained  credit 
we  are  not  informed.  But  the  conspirators  had  already  gone  too  far  to  be 
forgiven.  To  recede  was  death.  Either  Aben-Humeya  or  they  must  be  sacri- 
ficed. It  was  in  vain  that  he  protested  his  innocence,  and  that  he  ottered  to 
leave  the  question  to  the  sultan,  or  to  the  dey  of  Algiers,  or  to  any  person 
competent  to  decide  it.  But  little  heed  was  given  to  his  protestations,  as  the 
conspirators  dragged  him  into  an  adjoining  apartment.  The  unhappy  young 
man  perceived  that  his  hour  was  come, — that  there  was  no  one  of  all  his 
friends  or  menials  to  interpose  between  him  and  his  fate.  From  that  moment 
he  changed  his  tone,  and  assumed  a  bearing  more  worthy  of  his  station. 
"  They  are  mistaken,"  he  said,  "  who  suppose  me  to  be  a  follower  of  the 
Prophet.  I  die,  as  I  have  lived,  in  the  Christian  faith.  I  accepted  the  post 
of  head  of  the  rebellion  that  I  might  the  better  avenge  the  wrongs  heaped  on 
me  and  my  family  by  the  Spaniards.  They  have  been  avenged  in  full  measure, 
and  I  am  now  ready  to  die.  Neither,"  said  he,  turning  to  Aben-Aboo,  his  des- 
tined successor,  "do  I  envy  you.  It  will  not  be  long  before  you  will  follow  me." 
He  then,  with  his  own  hands,  coolly  arranged  around  his  neck  the  cord  with 
which  he  was  to  be  strangled,  adjusted  his  robes,  and,  covering  his  face  with 
his  mantle,  submitted  himself,  without  a  struggle,  to  his  executioners." 

His  body  was  thrown  into  a  neighbouring  sewer,  with  as  little  concern  as  if 
it  had  been  that  of  a  dog.  There  it  continued,  till  Don  John  of  Austria, 
hearing  that  Aben-Humeya  had  died  a  Christian,  caused  his  remains  to  be 
removed  to  Guadix  and  laid  in  the  ground  with  the  solemnities  of  Christian 
burial." 

That  Aben-Humeya  should  have  come  to  so  miserable  an  end  is  not  strange. 
The  recklessness  with  which  he  sacrificed  all  who  came  l>etween  him  and  the 
gratification  of  his  passions  surrounded  him  with  enemies,  the  more  dangerous 
m  a  climate  where  the  blood  is  hot  and  the  feeling  of  revenge  is  easily  kindled 
in  the  bosom.  At  the  beginning  of  his  reign  his  showy  qualities  won  him  a 
popularity  which,  however,  took  no  root  in  the  affections  of  the  people,  and 
which  faded  away  altogether  when  the  defects  of  his  character  were  more  fully 
brought  to  light  by  the  exigencies  of  his  situation ;  for  he  was  then  found 
to  possess  neither  the  military  skill  necessary  to  insure  success  in  the  field, 
nor  those  higher  moral  attributes  which  command  respect  and  obedience  at 
home. 

Very  different  was  the  character  of  his  successor,  Aben-Aboo.  Instead  of 
displaying  the  frivolous  and  licentious  tastes  of  Aben-Humeya,  his  private  life 
was  without  reproach.  He  was  much  older  than  his  predecessor  ;  and,  if  he 
had  not  the  same  fiery  enthusiasm  and  dashing  spirit  of  adventure  which 

'•  "  Ataronle  las  maims  con  un  almalzar."  IPS*  probable,  con«idtring  the  age  and  country 

Mendoza,  Guerre  de  Granada,  p.  '218.  in  which  they  occurred.    Among  the  different 

"  "  El  uiiamo  §e  dkS  la  buelta  corao  le  hid-  authorities  in  pruae  and  verse,  »(•<•   Marrnol, 

ewn  menos  mal ;  conrerti  la  ropa,  cubrifae  Rfbelion  d>>  UiaitaiU,  torn.  il.  pp.  16J-169,— 

el  rostro."     Ibid.,  p.  219.  Mi-nd«za,  Ouerra  de  Granada,  pp.  Zia-Wo. — 

'*  There  la  less  discrepancy  than  uxml  to  Kufo,  La  AuslrUda,   cant*   13,  14,  —  HIM, 

the  accounts  both  of  Aben-Hunieya'«  aataiwi-  Guerra*  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  337,  et  »t|., 

nation  and  of  the  circumstances  which  led  to  —  Vanderbammen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  ful. 

it.    These  circumoUnce*  have  a  certain  Ori-  103-105. 
ental  colouring,  which  makes  them  iiul  the 


564  REBELLION  OF  TI1E  MORISCOES. 

belonged  to  Aben-Humeya,  he  discovered  both  forecast  in  the  formation  of  his 

Elans  and  singular  courage  in  carrying  them  into  execution.  All  confided  in 
is  integrity  ;  while  the  decorum  and  gravity  of  his  demeanour  combined  with 
the  more  substantial  qualities  of  his  character  to  inspire  a  general  feeling  of 
reverence  in  the  people.18  It  was  not  till  the  time  of  his  proposed  elevation  to 
the  supreme  power  that  the  lustre  of  these  qualities  was  darkened  by  the 
perpetration  of  one  foul  deed, — his  connivance  at  the  conspiracy  against  his 
sovereign.  But  if  he  were  really  the  dupe,  as  we  are  told,  of  Alguazil's  plot, 
he  might  plead,  to  some  extent,  the  necessity  of  self-preservation  ;  for  he  may 
well  have  believed  that,  if  he  refused  to  aid  Aben-Humeya  in  the  execution  of 
his  bloody  purpose  in  reference  to  the  Turks,  the  tyrant  would  not  long  suffer 
him  to  live  in  possession  of  a  secret  so  perilous  to  himself.  At  all  events,  the 
part  he  had  taken  in  the  conspiracy  seems  to  have  given  no  disgust  to  the 
people,  who,  weary  of  the  despotism  under  which  they  had  been  living,  wel- 
comed with  enthusiasm  the  accession  of  the  new  sovereign.  Many  places 
which  had  hitherto  taken  no  part  in  the  struggle  for  independence  now  sent  in 
their  adhesion  to  Aben-Aboo,  who  soon  found  himself  the  ruler  over  a  wider 
extent  of  territory  than  at  any  time  had  acknowledged  the  sway  of  his 
predecessor. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  confirmation  of  his  election  arrived  from  Algiers ; 
and  Aben-Aboo,  assuming  the  regal  name  of  Muley  Abdallah  Mohammed  as 
a  prefix  to  his  own,  went  through  the  usual  simple  forms  of  a  coronation  of  a 
king  of  Granada.  In  his  right  hand,  on  this  occasion,  he  bore  a  banner 
inscribed  with  the  legend,  "More  I  could  not  desire,  less  would  not  have 
contented  me." 20  Such  an  inscription  may  be  thought  to  intimate  that  a 
more  aspiring  temper  lurked  within  his  bosom  than  the  world  had  given  him 
credit  for. 

The  new  sovereign  did  not,  like  his  predecessor,  waste  his  time  in  effemi- 
nate sloth.  He  busied  himself  with  various  important  reforms,  giving,  espe- 
cially, a  new  organization  to  the  army,  and  importing  a  large  quantity  of  arms 
and  munitions  from  Barbary.  He  determined  not  to  allow  his  men  time  for 
discontent,  but  to  engage  them  at  once  in  active  service.  The  first  object  he 
proposed  was  the  capture  of  Orgiba,  a  fortified  place  which  commanded  the 
route  to  Granada,  and  which  served  as  a  point  of  communication  between 
that  capital  and  remoter  parts  of  the  country. 

Aben-Aboo  got  everything  in  readiness  with  such  despatch  that  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  October,  a  few  weeks  only  after  the  death  of  Aben-Humeya, 
he  set  out  on  his  expedition  at  the  head  of  a  well-appointed  army,  consisting 
of  more  than  ten  thousand  men,  partly  foreign  mercenaries  and  partly  natives. 
Hastening  his  march,  he  soon  presented  himself  before  Orgiba  and  laid  siege 
to  the  place.  He  pushed  matters  forward  so  vigorously  that  in  a  few  days 
he  was  prepared  to  storm  the  works.  Four  times  he  brought  his  men  to  the 
assault ;  but  though  on  the  fourth  he  succeeded  in  throwing  himself,  with  a 
small  body  of  troops,  on  the  ramparts,  he  was  met  with  such  determined 
resistance  by  the  garrison  and  their  brave  commander,  Francisco  de  Molina, 

"  "Con  la  reputation  de  valiente  1  hombre  de  Kspafia,  p.  378.)    Fortunately  for  Aben- 

del  campo,  con  la  afabilidad,  gravedad,  auto-  Aboo,  the  first-mentioned  writer,  a  contem- 

ridad  de  la  presencia,  lue  bien  quis-o,  respe-  porary,  must  be  admitted   to  be  the   better 

tado,  obedecido,  tenido  como  Rei  peneralmente  authority  of  the  two. 

de  todos."     Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  *°  "  Nopudedesear  mas,  ni  contentarme  con 

224. — This  was  painting  him  en  beau.    For  a  menos."    Marmol,  Hebelion  de  Granada,  torn, 

portrait  of  an  opposite  complexion,  see  Mini-  ii.  p.  168. — See  al<o.  for  thp  account  of  this 

ana,  who  represents  him  as  "audaz,  perfid  •,  martial  ceremony,  Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Gru- 

BU8picaz,ydepes:ma>costumbres."  (Historia  nada,  p.  222. 


VIGOROUS  PROSECUTION  OF  THE  WAR.  565 

that  he  was  obliged  to  fall  back  with  loss  into  his  trenches.  Thus  repulsed, 
and  wholly  destitute  of  battering-ordnance,  the  Morisco  chief  found  it  ex- 
pedient to  convert  the  siege  into  a  blockade. 

The  time  thus  consumed  gave  opportunity  to  Don  John  of  Austria  to  send 
a  strong  force,  under  the  duke  of  Sesa,  to  the  relief  of  the  garrison.  Aben- 
Aboo,  desirous  to  intercept  his  enemy's  march  and  occupy  one  of  those  defiles 
that  would  give  him  the  advantage  of  position,  silently  broke  up  his  encamp- 
ment, under  cover  of  the  night,  and  took  the  direction  of  Lanjaron.  Here  he 
came  so  suddenly  on  the  advanced  guard  of  the  Christians  that,  taken  by 
surprise,  it  gave  way,  and,  falling  back,  after  considerable  loss,  on  the  main 
body  of  the  army,  threw  the  whole  into  confusion.  Happily,  the  duke  of 
Sesa,  though  labouring  at  the  time  under  a  sharp  attack  of  gout,  by  extra- 
ordinary exertions  was  enabled  to  rally  his  men  and  inspire  them  with  courage 
to  repulse  the  enemy,— thus  retrieving  his  own  honour  and  the  fortunes  of 
the  day. 

Meanwhile,  the  brave  Molina  and  his  soldiers  no  sooner  learned  that  the 
besiegers  had  abandoned  their  works,  than,  eager  to  profit  by  their  temporary 
absence,  the  cause  of  which  they  suspected,  they  dismantled  the  fortress,  and, 
burying  their  guns  in  the  ground,  hastily  evacuated  the  place.  The  duke  of 
Sesa,  finding  that  the  great  object  of  his  expedition,  the  safety  of  the  garrison, 
was  now  accomplished,  and  not  feeling  himself  in  sufficient  strength  to  coi>e 
with  the  Morisco  chief,  instantly  began  his  retreat  on  Granada.  In  this  he 
was  not  molested  by  Aben-Aboo,  who  was  only  too  glad  to  be  allowed  without 
interruption  to  follow  up  the  siege  of  Orgiba.  But  finding  this  place,  to  his 
surprise,  abandoned  by  the  enemy,  he  entered  it  without  bloodshed,  and  with 
colours  flying,  as  a  conqueror.11 

These  successes  in  the  commencement  of  his  reign  furnished  a  brilliant 
augury  for  the  future.  The  fame  of  Aben-Aboo  spread  far  and  wide  through 
the  country ;  and  the  warlike  peasantry  thronged  from  all  quarters  to  his 
standard.  Tidings  now  arrived  that  several  of  the  principal  places  on  the 
eastern  skirts  of  the  Alpujarras  had  proclaimed  their  adherence  to  the  Morisco 
cause ;  and  it  was  expected  that  the  flame  of  insurrection  would  soon  spread 
to  the  adjoining  provinces  of  Murcia  and  Valencia.  So  widely,  indeea,  had 
it  already  spread,  that,  of  all  the  Morisco  territory  south  of  Granada,  the 
country  around  Malaga  and  the  sierra  of  Ronda,  on  the  extreme  west,  were 
the  only  portions  that  still  acknowledged  the  authority  of  Castile.** 

The  war  now  took  the  same  romantic  aspect  that  it  wore  in  the  days  of  the 
conquest  of  Granada.  Beacon-fires  were  to  be  seen  along  the  highest  peaks 
of  the  sierra,  throwing  their  ominous  glare  around  for  many  a  league,  and 
calling  the  bold  mountaineers  to  the  foray.  Then  came  the  gathering  of  the 
wild  militia  of  the  country,  which,  pouring  down  on  the  lower  levels,  now  in 
the  faded  green  of  autumn,  swept  away  herds  and  flocks  and  bore  them  off  in 
triumph  to  their  fastnesses. 

Sometimes  marauders  penetrated  into  the  veya,  the  beautiful  veya,  every 
inch  of  whose  soil  was  fertilized  with  human  blood,  and  which  now,  as  in 
ancient  times,  became  the  battle-ground  of  Christian  and  Moslem  cavaliers. 
Almost  always  it  was  the  former  who  had  the  advantage,  as  was  intimated 
by  the  gory  trophies,  the  heads  and  hands  of  the  vanquished,  which  they  boie 

•'  Fen-eras,  Hirt.  d'Egpagne,   torn.  x.  pp.  "  "  Derta  manera  quedaron  levantados  to- 

111-118.— Mannol,  Kebelion  deUranada,  him.  dofl   los    Mortncog   del    Kt-ino,  sine.  Ins  de    la 

li.  pp.  I6»-1»».— Menduza,  Gue  radeGranail.i,  Hoya  d>-  Malaga  i  Seirania  de  Ronda."    Mi-u- 

|>.  -lift,  et  M-q.— MlnUua,  Hist,   de  E*pafia,  doz»,  Ciucrra  de  Granada,  p.  241. 
p.  a*s. 


566  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

on  the  points  of  their  lances,  when,  amidst  the  shouts  of  the  populace,  they 
came  thundering  on  through  the  gates  of  the  capital.2* 

Yet  sometimes  fortune  lay  in  the  opposite  scale.  The  bold  infidels,  after 
scouring  the  vega,  would  burst  into  the  suburbs,  or  even  into  the  city,  of 
Granada,  filling  the  place  with  consternation.  Then  might  be  seen  the  terror- 
stricken  citizens  hurrying  to  and  fro,  while  the  great  alarui-bell  of  the 
Alhambra  sent  forth  its  summons,  and  the  chivalry,  mounting  in  haste, 
shouted  the  old  war-cry  of  Saint  lago  and  threw  themselves  on  the  invaders, 
who,  after  a  short  but  bloody  fray,  were  sure  to  be  driven  in  confusion  across 
the  veya  and  far  over  the  borders. 

Don  John  on  these  occasions  was  always  to  be  descried  in  the  front  of 
battle,  as  if  rejoicing  in  his  element  and  courting  danger  like  some  paladin 
of  romance.  Indeed,  Philip  was  obliged  again  and  again  to  rebuke  his  brother 
for  thus  wantonly  exposing  his  life  in  a  manner,  the  king  intimated,  wholly 
unbecoming  his  rank.24  But  it  would  have  been  as  easy  to  rein  in  the  war- 
horse  when  the  trumpet  was  sounding  in  his  ears  as  to  curb  the  spirits  of  the 
high-mettled  young  chieftain  when  his  followers  were  mustering  to  the  charge. 
In  truth,  it  was  precisely  these  occasions  that  filled  him  with  the  greatest 
glee  ;  for  they  opened  to  him  the  only  glimpses  he  was  allowed  of  that  career 
of  glory  for  which  his  soul  had  so  "long  panted.  Every  detachment  that 
sallied  forth  from  Granada  on  a  warlike  adventure  was  an  object  of  his  envy  ; 
and  as  he  gazed  on  the  blue  mountains  that  rose  as  an  impassable  barrier 
around  him,  he  was  like  the  bird  vainly  beating  its  plumage  against  the 
gilded  wires  of  its  prison-house  and  longing  to  be  free. 

He  wrote  to  the  king  in  the  most  earnest  terms,  representing  the  forlorn 
condition  of  affairs,— the  Spaniards  losing  ground  day  after  day,  and  the 
army  under  the  marquis  of  Lo.s  Velez  wasting  away  its  energies  in  sloth  or 
exerting  them  in  unprofitable  enterprises.  He  implored  his  brother  not  to 
compel  him  to  remain  thus  cooped  up  within  the  walls  of  Granada,  but  to 
allow  him  to  have  a  real  as  well  as  nominal  command,  and  to  conduct  the  war 
in  person.*4 

The  views  presented  by  Don  John  were  warmly  supported  by  Requesens, 
who  wrote  to  Philip,  denouncing  in  unqualified  terms  the  incapacity  of  Los 
Velez. 

Philip  had  no  objection  to  receive  complaints,  even  against  those  whom  he 
most  favoured.  He  could  not  shut  his  eyes  to  the  truth  of  the  charges  now 
brought  against  the  hot-headed  old  chief  who  had  so  long  enjoyed  his  con- 
fidence, but  whose  campaigns  of  late  had  been  a  series  of  blunders.  He  saw 
the  critical  aspect  of  affairs  and  the  danger  that  the  rebellion,  which  had 
struck  so  deep  root  in  Granada,  unless  speedily  crushed,  would  spread  over 
the  adjoining  provinces.  Mondejar's  removal  from  the  scene  of  action  had 
not  brought  the  remedy  that  Philip  had  expected. 
Yet  it  was  with  reluctance  that  he  yielded  to  his  brother's  wishes ;  whether 

M  "  Llevando  los  escuderos  las  cabezas  y  "A  vista  de  los  dos  Reyes." 

las  manos  de  los  Mnros  en  los  hierros  de  las  „  .,  y             ]b.  &  Ule8  rebatog  eg  desauto. 

anzas       Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granad*,  torn  rfdad    ^      rf     d        fe        ,„      tenlendo  e, 

ii.  p.  159—Thr  head  of  an  enemy  was  an  old  ^,    „    ^  de  Feli'    s^,,^,  & 

perquisite  of  the  victor-whether Christian  or  „,,«  j^ande  Austria,3odeSetiembre,1569,  MS. 

Moslem-m  the  wars  with  the  Spanish  Ara «.  „  ..  u        u         ,             nj  4      {              ni 

It  is  frequently  commemorated  m  the  Moorish  &  ,     ^     £e  te          ^  t  otraqcosa  .,  *na 

roma-te,  »    among    the    most    honourable  conviene  encerrarme.  ciundo   mas  razon  PS 

trophies  of  the  field,  down  to  as  late  a  period  me   muefltr(.  »    c^  de  r,OI1  ,,uan  de 

*' among  other8- 


IMPETUOUS  SPIRIT  OF  DON  JOHN.  567 

distrusting  the  capacity  of  one  so  young  for  an  independent  command,  or,  as 
might  be  inferred  from  his  letters,  apprehending  the  dangers  in  which  Don 
John's  impetuous  spirit  would  probably  involve  him.  Having  formed  his 
plans,  he  lost  no  time  in  communicating  them  to  his  brother.  The  young 
warrior  was  to  succeed  Los  Velez  in  the  command  of  the  eastern  army,  which 
was  to  be  strengthened  by  reinforcements,  while  the  duke  of  Sesa,  under  the 
direction  of  Don  John,  was  to  establish  himself,  with  an  efficient  corps,  in  the 
Alpujarras,  in  such  a  position  as  to  cover  the  approaches  to  Granada. 

A  summons  was  then  sent  to  the  principal  towns  of  Andalusia,  requiring 
them  to  raise  fresh  levies  for  the  war,  who  were  to  be  encouraged  by  pro- 
mises of  better  pay  than  had  before  been  given.  But  these  promises  did  not 
weigh  so  much  with  the  soldiers  as  the  knowledge  that  Don  John  of  Austria 
was  to  take  charge  of  the  expedition  ;  and  nobles  and  cavaliers  came  throng- 
ing to  the  war,  with  their  well-armed  retainers,  in  such  numbers  that  the 
king  felt  it  necessary  to  publish  another  ordinance,  prohibiting  any,  without 
express  permission,  from  joining  the  service.2* 

All  now  was  bustle  ana  excitement  in  Granada,  as  the  new  levies  came  in 
and  the  old  ones  were  receiving  a  better  organization.  Indeed,  Don  John 
had  been  closely  occupied,  for  some  time,  with  introducing  reforms  among  the 
troops  quartered  in  the  city,  who?  from  causes  already  mentioned,  had  fallen 
into  a  state  of  the  most  alarming  insubordination.  A  similar  spirit  had 
infected  the  officers,  and  to  such  an  extent  that  it  was  deemed  necessary  to 
suspend  no  less  than  thirty-seven  out  of  forty-five  captains  from  their  com- 
mands.*7 Such  were  the  difficulties  under  which  the  youthful  hero  was  to 
enter  on  his  first  campaign. 

Fortunately,  in  the  retainers  of  the  great  lords  and  cavaliers  he  had  a  body 
of  well-appointed  and  well-disciplined  troops,  who  were  actuated  by  higher 
motives  than  the  mere  love  of  plunder.1*  His  labours,  moreover,  did  much  to 
restore  the  ancient  discipline  of  the  regiments  quartered  in  Granada.  But 
the  zeal  with  which  he  had  devoted  himself  to  the  work  of  reform  had  im- 
paired his  health.  This  drew  forth  a  kind  remonstrance  from  Philip,  who 
wrote  to  his  brother  not  thus  to  overtask  his  strength,  but  to  remember  that 
he  had  need  of  his  services ;  telling  him  to  remind  Quixada  that  he  must 
watch  over  him  more  carefully.  "  And  God  grant,"  he  concluded,  "  that  your 
health  may  be  soon  re-estaolished."  The  affectionate  solicitude  constantly 
shown  for  his  brother's  welfare  in  the  king's  letters  was  hardly  to  have  been 
expected  in  one  of  so  phlegmatic  a  temperament  and  who  was  usually  so  little 
demonstrative  in  the  expression  of  his  feelings. 

Before  entering  on  his  great  expedition,  Don  John  resolved  to  secure  the 
safety  of  Granada  in  his  absence  by  the  reduction  of  "  the  robbers'  nest,"  as 
the  Spaniards  called  it.  of  Guejar.  This  was  a  fortified  place  near  the  con- 
fines of  the  Alpujarras,  held  by  a  warlike  garrison,  that  frequently  sallied  out 
over  the  neighbouring  country,  sometimes  carrying  their  forays  into  the  vega 
of  Granada  and  causing  a  panic  in  the  capital.  Don  John  formed  his  force 
into  two  divisions,  one  of  which  he  gave  to  the  duke  of  Sesa,  while  the  other 

**  "  Entendlfee  por  Kspafla  la  fama  de  su  bacer  demostracion  no  vista  ni  If  M  i  en  log 

Ida  gobre  Galcra,  I  moviooe  la  nobleza  dell.i  tletnpos  pa*ad>*,   en   la  guprra:    suspend  T 

con  tanto  calor,  que  fue  necroario  dar  al  Rei  tr  'inta  i  don  Capltanes  de  quarenta  i  uno  que 

a  entender  que  no  fra  con   su  voluntad  tr  havla,  con  nombre  de  refoniiacion."     Ibid., 

Cavnlleroa  sin   llcencla  a  ncrvir  en  aquella  p.  '23T. 

emprvM."    Mendoza,  Guerre  de  Granada,  p.  "  "  Tambien    la   getite  embladn    por    Ins 

256.  Sefior  s,  escogUla,  Igu  il,  difrciplinada,  movi- 

*'  "  Havian  las  de*orden«>«  pa*a<l>  tan  ade-  <l<*  por  obllgacion  de  vlrtud  1  de«eo  de  acre- 

lante.   qne  fn<:   necesurio    para    remedial  las  ditar  sng  persona*."     Ibid.,  p.  334. 


568  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOE3. 

he  proposed  to  lead  in  person.  They  were  to  proceed  by  different  routes,  and, 
meeting  before  the  place,  to  attack  it  simultaneously  from  opposite  quarters. 

The  duke,  marching  by  the  most  direct  road  across  the  mountains,  reached 
Guejar  first,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  that  the  inhabitants,  who 
had  received  notice  of  the  preparations  of  the  Spaniards,  were  already  eva- 
cuating the  town,  while  the  garrison  was  formed  in  order  of  battle  to  cover 
their  retreat.  After  a  short  skirmish  with  the  rear-guard,  in  which  some 
lives  were  lost  on  both  sides,  the  victorious  Spaniards,  without  following  up 
then-  advantage,  marched  into  the  town  and  took  possession  of  the  works 
abandoned  by  the  enemy. 

Great  was  the  surprise  of  Don  John,  on  arriving  some  hours  later  before 
Guejar,  to  see  the  Oastilian  flag  floating  from  its  ramparts  ;  and  his  indigna- 
tion was  roused  as  he  found  that  the  laurels  he  had  designed  for  his  own  brow 
had  been  thus  unceremoniously  snatched  from  him  by  another.  "  With  eyes," 
says  the  chronicler,  "  glowing  like  coals  of  fire," 2*  he  turned  on  the  duke  of 
Sesa  and  demanded  an  explanation  of  the  affair.  But  he  soon  found  that  the 
blame,  if  blame  there  were,  was  to  be  laid  on  one  whom  he  felt  that  he  had 
not  the  power  to  rebuke.  This  was  Luis  Quixada,  who,  in  his  solicitude  for 
the  safety  of  his  ward,  had  caused  the  army  to  be  conducted  by  a  circuitous 
route,  that  brought  it  thus  late  upon  the  field.  But,  though  Don  John  uttered 
no  word  of  rebuke,  he  maintained  a  moody  silence,  that  plainly  showed  his 
vexation  ;  and,  as  the  soldiers  remarked,  not  a  morsel  of  food  passed  his  lips 
until  he  had  reached  Granada.30 

The  constant  supervision  maintained  over  him  by  Quixada,  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  was  encouraged  by  the  king,  was  a  subject  of  frequent  remark 
among  the  troops.  It  must  have  afforded  no  little  embarrassment  and  morti- 
fication to  Don  John, — alike  ill  suited  as  it  was  to  his  age,  his  aspiring  temper, 
and  his  station.  For  his  station  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  army  made 
him  responsible,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  for  the  measures  of  the  campaign. 
Yet,  in  his  dependent  situation,  he  had  the  power  neither  to  decide  on  the 
plan  of  operations  nor  to  carry  it  into  execution.  Not  many  days  were  to 
elapse  before  the  death  of  his  kind-hearted  monitor  was  to  relieve  him  from 
the  jealous  oversight  that  so  much  chafed  his  spirit,  and  to  open  to  him  an 
independent  caieer  of  glory  such  as  might  satisfy  the  utmost  cravings  of  his 
ambition. 

"  "  Pusieronsele  los  ojos  encendidos  como  30  "  Sin  coiner  bocado  <>n  todo  aqnel  dia  se 

brasa  de  pure  corage  "  Marmol,  Kebelion  de  volvi6  a  la  ciudad  de  Gran  .da."  Ibid.,  p. 
Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  224.  225. 


One  of  the  authorities  of  the  greatest,  im-  the  course  of  studies  taught  in  its  venerable 

portance,  and  most  frequently  cit-d  in  this  university.       While    there,    he    wrote -for. 

Book,   as   the  reader  may   have  noticed,   is  though   printed    anonymously,   there  serins 

Diego  Hurtado  de  Mendoza.     He  belonged  to  no  pood  reason  to  distrust  the  authorship — 

one  of  the  most  illustrious  houses  in  Castile,  his  (amous  "  Lazarillo  de  Tormes,"  the  origin 

— a  house  not  more  prominent  fur  its  rank  of  that  class  of  picaresco  novels,  as  they  are 

than  for  the  great  abilities  displayed  by  its  styled,  which  constitutes  an  impottant  branch 

members  in  the  various  walks  of  civil  and  of  Castilian  literature,  and  the  best  specimen 

military  life,  as  well  as  for  their  rare  intel-  of  which,  strange  to  say,  was  furnished   by 

lectual  culture.     No  one  of  the  great  families  the  hand  of  a  foreigner,— the  "Gil  Bias"  of 

of  Spain  has  furnished  so  fruitful  a  theme  for  Le  Sage, 

the  pen  of  both  the  chronicler  and  the  bard.  Mendoza  had  been  destined  to  the  church, 

He  was  the   fifth   son  of  the  marquis  of  for  which  the  extensive    patronage   of   Irs 

Mondejar,  and  was  born  in  the  year  1503  at  family  offered  obvious  advantages.     But  the 

Granada,   where   his  father  filled  the  office  taste  of  the  young  man,  as  might  be  inferred 

held  by  his  ancestors  of  captain-general  of  from  his  novel,  took  another  direction,  and 

the  province.     At  an  early  age  he  was  sent  he  p»rsuaded  his  father  to  allow  him  to  enter 

to  Salamanca,  and  passed  with  credit  tbiough  the  army  and  take  service  under  the  banner 


MENDOZA. 


5C9 


of  Charles  the  Fifth.  Mendoza's  love  of  letters 
did  not  desert  him  in  the  camp;  and  he 
availed  himself  of  such  intervals  as  occurred 
between  the  campaigns  to  continue  his  studies, 
especially  in  the  ancient  languages,  in  the 
principal  universities  of  Italy. 

It  was  impossible  that  a  person  of  such  re- 
markable endowments  as  Mendoza,  the  more 
conspicuous  from  his  social  position,  should 
escape  the  penetrating  eye  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,  who,  independently  of  big  scholarship, 
recognized  in  the  young  noble  a  decided  talent 
for  political  affairs.  In  1538  the  emperor  ap- 
pointed him  ambassador  to  Venice,  a  capital 
for  which  the  literary  enterprises  of  the  Aldl 
were  every  day  winning  a  higher  reputation 
in  the  republic  of  le  ters.  Her ;  Mendoza  had 
the  best  opportunity  of  accomplishing  a  work 
which  be  had  much  at  heart,  tlie  formation 
of  a  library.  It  was  a  work  of  no  small  diffi- 
culty in  that  day,  when  books  ami  manu- 
scripts were  to  be  gathered  from  obscure, 
often  remote,  sources,  and  at  the  large  cost 
paid  for  objects  of  virtu.  A.  good  office  which 
he  had  the  means  of  rendering  the  sultan,  by 
the  redemption  from  captivity  of  a  Turkish 
prisoner  of  rank,  was  requited  by  a  magnifi- 
cent present  of  Greek  manuscripts,  worth 
inure  than  gold  in  the  eyes  of  Meudoza.  It 
was  from  his  collection  that  the  first  edition 
of  Joeephus  was  given  to  the  world.  While 
freely  indulging  his  taste  for  literary  occupa- 
tions in  his  iniervals  of  leisure,  he  performed 
the  duties  of  his  mission  with  an  ability  that 
fully  vindicated  his  appointment  as  minister 
to  the  wily  republic.  On  the  opening  of  the 
Council  of  Trent,  he  was  one  of  the  del  gates 
»  ut  to  represent  the  emperor  in  that  b-dy. 
He  joined  freely  in  the  discussions  of  the 
conclave,  and  enforced  the  views  of  his  Rove- 
reign  with  a  stren  th  of  reasoning  and  a  fervid 
eloquence  that  produced  a  powerful  impres- 
sion on  hi-  audience.  The  independence  he 
displayed  recommended  him  for  the  delicate 
taskoi  presenting  the  remonstmncesol  Chai  IPS 
the  Kifth  to  the  papal  court  against  the  re- 
moval of  the  council  to  Bologna.  This  he 
did  with  a  degree  of  frankness  to  which  the 
pontifical  car  was  but  little  accustomed,  and 
which,  if  it  failed  to  bend  the  proud  spirit  i.f 
Paul  the  Third,  bad  its  effect  on  his  successor. 

Mendoza,  from  whatever  cause,  does  not 
seem  to  have  stood  so  high  in  the  favour  of 
Philip  the  Second  as  in  that  of  his  father. 
Perhaps  he  had  too  lolty  a  nature  to  stoop  to 
that  implicit  deference  which  Philip  exacted 
from  th-  highest  as  well  as  the  humblest  who 
approached  him.  At  length,  in  156s,  Men- 
doza's  own  misconduct  brought  him,  wltli 
good  reason,  into  disgrace  with  his  mauler. 
He  engaged  in  a  brawl  with  Another  courtier 
in  the  palace ;  and  the  scandalous  scene,  of 
which  ihe  reader  will  find  an  account  in  the 
preceding  volume,  took  place  when  the  prince 
of  Asiuriax,  I>on  Carlos,  WHS  breathing  his 
last.  The  offending  parti-  s  were  punished 
first  by  Imprisonment,  and  then  by  banish- 
ment from  Madrid.  Mendoza,  who  was  sixty- 


five  years  of  age  at  this  time,  withdrew  to 
Granada,  his  native  place.  But  he  had  passed 
too  much  of  his  life  in  the  atmosphere  of  a 
court  to  be  content  with  a  provincial  resi- 
dence. He  accordingly  made  repeated  efforts 
to  soften  his  sovereign':-  displeasure  and  to 
obtain  some  mitigation  of  his  sentence.  These 
efforts,  as  may  be  believed,  were  unavailing  ; 
and  the  illustrious  exile  took  ut  lenitth  ibe 
wiser  course  of  submitting  to  his  fate  and 
seeking  consolation  in  the  companionship  uf 
his  books, — steady  friends,  whose  worth  he 
now  fully  proved  in  the  hour  of  adversity. 
He  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  Arabic,  to 
whxh  he  was  naturally  led  by  his  residence 
in  a  capital  filled  with  the  monuments  of 
Arabian  art.  He  also  amused  his  leisure  by 
writing  verses ;  and  his  labours  combined 
with  those  of  Koscan  and  Garcilasso  de  la 
Vega  to  naturalize  in  Castile  those  more  re- 
fined lorms  of  Italian  versification  that  made 
an  important  epoch  in  the  national  literature. 

Hut  the  great  work  to  which  he  devoted 
himself  was  the  history  of  the  insurrection  of 
the  Moriscoes,  which,  occurring  during  his 
residence  in  Granada,  may  be  said  10  have 
passed  before  bis  eyes.  For  this  he  had, 
moieover,  obvious  facilities,  for  be  was  the 
near  kinsman  of  the  capUi in-general,  and  was 
personally  acquainted  with  those  who  had 
th"  direction  of  affairs.  The  result  of  I, is 
labours  was  a  work  of  inestimable  value, 
though  of  no  great  bulk,— being  less  a  history 
of  events  than  a  commentary  on  such  a  b  t- 
tory.  The  author  explores  the  causes  of 
these  events.  He  introduces  the  reader  into 
the  cabinet  of  Madrid,  makes  him  acquainted 
with  the  intrigues  of  the  differ* nt  factions, 
both  in  the  court  and  in  the  camp,  unfolds 
the  policy  of  the  government  and  the  plans 
of  the  campaigns, — in  short,  enables  him  t> 
penetrate  into  the  interior,  and  see  the  secret 
working  of  the  machinery,  so  carefully 
shroud  d  from  the  vulgar  eye. 

The  value  which  the  work  derived  from 
the  author's  access  to  t In  se  i  eco;idite  sources 
of  information  is  much  enhanced  by  its  inde- 
pendent spirit.  In  a  country  where  few 
dared  even  think  for  themselves,  Mendoza 
both  thought  with  freedom  and  freely  ex- 
pressed his  thoughts.  Pi  out  of  this  is  allorded 
by  the  caustic  tone  of  his  criticism  on  the 
conduct  of  the  government,  and  l>y  the  can- 
dour which  he  sometimes  ventures  to  display 
when  noticing  the  wrongs  of  ibe  Moriscoes. 
Tills  ind.-peiid.-iue  of  i  in-  historian,  we  may 
well  l«-li  ve,  COM  d  have  found  little  favour 
with  the  administration.  It  may  have  been 
the  cause  that  the  book  was  not  published 
till  after  the  r  hen  of  Philip  the  S  -cund,  and 
many  years  after  its  author's  death. 

The  literary  execution  of  the  work  If  not 
its  least  remarkable  feature.  Instead  of  the 
desultory  and  gowiping  style  of  the  Caftilian 
chronicler,  every  |>uge  is  Instinct  with  the 
spirit  of  the  an.  i.  nt  classics.  Indeed,  Men- 
doza is  commonly  thought  to  have  ileiil..- 
ruiely  formed  liU  style  on  that  of  Saliu.-t  , 


570 


REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 


but  I  agree  with  my  friend  Mr.  Ticknor, 
who,  in  a  luminous  criticism  on  Menduza,  in 
his  great  work  on  Spunisii  Literature,  ex- 
presses the  opinion  that  the  Oastilian  his- 
torian formed  his  style  quite  as  much  on  that 
of  Tacitus  as  of  Sallust.  Indeed,  some  of 
Mendoza's  nio>t  celebrated  passages  are  ob- 
vious imitations  of  the  former  historian,  of 
whom  be  constantly  reminds  us  by  the  singu- 
lar compactness  and  energy  of  bis  diction,  by 
his  power  of  delineating  a  portrait  by  a  single 
stroke  of  the  pencil,  and  by  his  free  criticism 
on  the  chief  actors  of  the  drama,  conveyed  in 
language  full  of  that  practical  wisdom  which, 
in  Mendoza's  case,  was  the  result  of  a  large 
acquaintance  with  public  affairs.  We  recog- 
nize also  trie  delects  incident  to  the  style  he 
has  chosen,— rigidity  and  constraint,  with  a 
frequent  use  of  ellipsis  in  a  way  that  does 
violence  to  the  national  idiom,  and,  worst  of 
all,  that  obscurity  which  arises  from  the  effort 
to  be  brief.  Mendoza  hurts  his  book,  more- 
over, by  an  unseasonable  display  of  learning, 
which,  however  it  may  be  pardoned  by  the 
antiquary,  comes  like  an  impertinent  episode 
to  break  the  thread  of  the  narrative.  But, 
with  all  its  defects,  the  work  is  a  remarkable 
production  for  the  time,  and,  appearing  in 
the  midst  of  the  romantic  literature  in  Spain, 
we  regard  it  with  the  same  feeling  of  surprise 


which  the  traveller  might  experience  who 
should  meet  with  a  classic  I)oric  temple  in 
the  midst  of  the  fantastic  structures  of  China 
or  Hindostan. 

Not  long  after  Mendoza  had  completed  his 
history,  he  obtained  permission  to  visit  Ma- 
drid, not  to  reside  there,  but  to  attend  to 
some  personal  affairs.  H  had  hardly  reached 
the  capital  w  hen  he  was  attacked  by  a  mortal 
illness,  which  carried  him  off  in  April,  1575, 
in  the  seventy-third  year  of  his  age.  Shortly 
before  his  death  he  gave  his  rich  collection  of 
books  and  manuscripts  to  his  obdurate  master, 
who  placed  them,  agreeably  to  the  donor's 
desire,  in  the  Escorial,  where  they  still  form 
an  interesting  portion  of  a  library  of  which 
80  much  has  been  said,  and  so  little  is  realty 
known  by  the  world. 

The  most  copious  notice,  with  which  I'  am 
acqu,unte<l,  of  the  life  of  Mendoza,  is  that 
attributed  to  the  pen  of  Ifligo  Lopez  de  Avila, 
and  prefixed  to  the  Valei.cian  edition  of  the 
"Guerra  de  Granada,"  published  in  1776 
But  his  countrymen  have  been  ever  ready  l^ 
do  honour  to  the  memory  of  one  who,  by  the 
brilliant  success  which  he  achieved  as  a 
statesman,  a  diplomatist,  a  novelist,  a  poet, 
and  an  historian,  has  established  a  reputation 
for  versatility  of  genius  second  to  none  in  the 
literature  of  Spain. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

REBELLION  OP  THE   MOEISCOE8. 

Don  John  takes  the  Field— Investment  of  Gal°ra— Fierce  Assaults— Preparations  for  a  Inst 
Attack — Explosion  of  the  Mines — Desperation  of  the  Moriscoes — Cruel  Massacre—  Galera 
demolished. 

1570. 

DON  JOHN  lost  no  time  in  completing  the  arrangements  for  his  expedition. 
The  troops,  as  they  reached  Granada,  were  for  the  most  part  sent  forward  to 
join  the  army  under  Los  Velez,  on  the  east  of  the  Alpujarras,  where  that  com- 
mander was  occupied  with  the  siege  of  Galera,  though  with  but  little  prospect 
of  reducing  the  place.  He  was  soon,  however,  to  be  superseded  by  Don  John, 
Philip,  unable  to  close  his  ears  against  the  representations  of  his  brother,  as 
well  as  those  of  more  experienced  captains  in  the  service,  had  at  length 
reluctantly  come  to  a  conviction  of  the  unfitness  of  Los  Velez  for  the  com- 
mand. Yet  he  had  a  partiality  for  the  veteran  ;  and  he  was  willing  to  spare 
him,  as  far  as  possible,  the  mortification  of  seeing  hiniself  supplanted  by  his 
young  rival.  In  his  letters  the  king  repeatedly  enjoined  it  on  his  brother 
to  treat  the  marquis  with  the  utmost  deference,  and  to  countenance  no  reports 
circulated  to  his  prejudice.  In  an  epistle  filled  with  instructions  for  the 
campaign,  dated  the  twenty-sixth  of  November,  the  king  told  Don  John  to  be 
directed  on  all  occasions  by  the  counsels  of  Quixada  and  Requesens.  He  was 
to  show  the  greatest  respect  for  the  marquis,  and  to  give  him  to  understand 
that  he  should  be  governed  by  his  opinions.  "  But  in  point  of  fact,"  said 


DON  JOHN  TAKES  THE  FIELD.  571 

Philip,  "should  his  opinion  clash  at  any  time  with  that  of  the  two  other 
counsellors,  you  are  to  be  governed  by  theirs." ' 

On  Quixada  and  Requesens  he  was  indeed  always  to  rely,  never  setting  up 
his  own  judgment  in  opposition  to  theirs.  He  was  to  move  with  caution,  and, 
instead  of  the  impatient  spirit  of  a  boy,  to  show  the  circumspection  of  one 
possessed  of  military  experience.  "  In  this  way,"  concluded  his  royal  nionitor, 
"  you  will  not  only  secure  the  favour  of  your  sovereign,  but  establish  your 
reputation  with  the  world."*  It  is  evident  that  Philip  nad  discerned  traits  in 
the  character  of  Don  John  which  led  him  to  distrust  somewhat  his  capacity 
for  the  high  station  in  which  he  was  placed.  Perhaps  it  may  be  thought  that 
the  hesitating  and  timid  policy  of  Philip  was  less  favourable  to  success  in 
military  operations  than  the  bold  spirit  of  enterprise  which  belonged  to  his 
brother.  However  this  may  be,  Don  John,  notwithstanding  his  repeated 
protestations  to  the  contrary,  was  of  too  ardent  a  temperament  to  be  readily 
affected  by  these  admonitions  of  his  prudent  adviser. 

The  military  command  in  Granada  was  lodged  by  the  prince  in  the  hands 
of  the  duke  of  Sesa,  who,  as  soon  as  he  had  gathered  a  sufficient  force,  was  to 
niarch  into  the  western  district  of  the  Alpujarras  and  there  create  a  diversion 
in  favour  of  Don  John.  A  body  of  four  thousand  troops  was  to  remain  in 
Granada ;  and  the  commander-in-chief,  having  thus  completed  his  dispositions 
for  the  protection  of  the  capital,  set  forth  on  his  expedition  on  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  December,  at  the  head  of  a  force  amounting  only  to  three  thousand 
foot  and  four  hundred  horse.  With  these  troops  went  a  numerous  body  of 
volunteers,  the  flower  of  the  Andalusian  chivalry,  who  had  come  to  win  renown 
under  the  banner  of  the  young  leader. 

He  took  the  route  through  Guadix,  and  on  the  third  day  reached  the  ancient 
city  of  Baz-i,  memorable  for  the  siege  it  had  sustained  under  his  victorious 
ancestors,  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  Here  he  was  met  by  Requesens,  who, 
besides  a  reinforcement  of  troops,  brought  with  him  a  train  of  heavy  ordnance 
and  a  large  supply  of  ammunition.  The  guns  were  sent  forward,  under  a 
strong  escort,  to  Galera ;  but,  on  leaving  Baza,  Don  John  received  the 
astounding  tidings  that  the  marquis  of  Los  Velez  had  already  abandoned  the 
siege,  and  drawn  off  his  whole  force  to  the  neighbouring  town  of  Guescar. 

In  fact,  the  rumour  had  no  sooner  reached  the  ears  of  the  testy  old  chief 
that  Don  John  was  speedily  coming  to  take  charge  of  the  war  than  he  swore 
in  his  wrath  that  if  the  report  were  true  he  would  abandon  the  siege  and 
throw  up  his  command.  Yet  those  who  knew  him  best  did  not  think  him 
capable  of  so  mad  an  act.  He  kept  his  word,  however ;  and  when  he  learned 
that  Don  John  was  on  the  way  he  broke  up  his  encampment,  and  withdrew, 
as  above  stated,  to  Guescar.  By  this  course  he  left  the  adjacent  country  open 
to  the  incursions  of  the  Moriscoes  of  Galera  ;  while  no  care  was  taken  to 
provide  even  for  the  safety  of  the  convoys  which  from  time  to  time  came  laden 
with  supplies  for  the  besieging  army. 

This  extraordinary  conduct  gave  no  dissatisfaction  to  his  troops,  who,  lone 
since  disgusted  with  the  fiery  yet  iml>ecile  character  of  their  general,  looked 
with  pleasure  to  the  prospect  of  joining  the  standard  of  so  popular  a  chieftain 

1  "Y  porque   p  <lris   *er  que  ordenane  al  26  de  Novlembre,  1569,  MS. 
marque*  de  loa  Velez  qua  quedaae  con  vo«  •  "  Y  que  os  goberneis  como  si  hubiesedes 

y  CM  aconnejaftv,  convendril  en  cste  caoo  que  visto  mucha  guerra  y  hallmioos  en  ella.  que 

vos  le  moHrels  inuy  bucna  cara  y  le  trateis  or  digo  que  conilgo  y  con  todoa  gauds  hart* 

limy  bien  y  le  delft  u  ctitender  que  tomai*  BU  max  reputaclon  en  gobernaroa  desta  manera, 

parecer,  mas  que  en  erectu  tom«*i*  el  de  lua  que  no  baclcndo  alguna  inucedad  que  A,  todofl 

que  be  dlcbo  cuando  fucsen   diferenies  del  DOS  coxUre  caro. "    Ibid.,  MS. 
Buyo."    Carta  d  -I   Ki-y  a  D.  Juan  de  Austiia, 


572  REBELLION  OP  THE  MORISCOES. 

as  John  of  Austria.  Even  the  indignation  felt  by  the  latter  at  the  senseless 
proceeding  of  the  marquis  was  forgotten  in  the  satisfaction  he  experienced  at 
being  thus  relieved  from  the  embarrassments  which  his  rival's  overweening 
pretensions  could  not  have  failed  to  cause  him  in  the  campaign.  Don  John 
might  now,  with  a  good  grace  and  without  any  cost  to  himself,  make  all  the 
concessions  to  the  veteran  so  strenuously  demanded  by  Philip.  It  was  in  this 
amiable  mood  that  the  prince  pushed  forward  his  march,  eager  to  prevent  the 
disastrous  consequences  which  might  arise  from  the  marquis's  abandonment 
of  his  post. 

As  he  drew  near  to  Guescar,  he  beheld  the  old  nobleman  riding  towards  him 
at  the  head  of  his  retainers,  with  a  stiff  and  stately  port,  like  one  who  had  no 
concessions  or  explanations  to  make  for  himself.  Without  alighting  from  his 
horse,  as  he  drew  near  the  prince,  he  tendered  him  obeisance  by  kissing  the 
hand  which  the  latter  graciously  extended  towards  him.  "  Noble  marquis," 
said  Don  John,  "  your  great  deeds  have  shed  a  lustre  over  your  name.  I 
consider  myself  fortunate  in  having  the  opportunity  of  becoming  personally 
acquainted  with  you.  Fear  not  that  your  authority  will  be  in  the  least 
abridged  by  mine.  The  soldiers  under  my  command  will  obey  you  as  implicitly 
as  myself.  I  pray  you  to  look  on  me  as  a  son,  filled  with  feelings  of  reverence 
for  your  valour  and  your  experience,  and  designing  on  all  occasions  to  lean  on 
your  counsels  for  support."  * 

The  courteous  and  respectful  tone  of  the  prince  seems  to  have  had  its  effect 
on  the  iron  nature  of  the  marquis,  as  he  replied,  "  There  is  no  Spaniard  living 
who  has  a  stronger  desire  than  I  have  to  be  personally  acquainted  with  the 
distinguished  brother  of  my  sovereign,  or  who  would  probably  be  a  greater 
gainer  by  serving  under  his  banner.  But,  to  speak  with  my  usual  plainness, 
I  wish  to  withdraw  to  my  own  house  ;  for  it  would  never  do  for  me,  old  as  I 
am,  to  hold  the  post  of  a  subaltern."  *  He  then  accompanied  Don  John  back 
to  the  town,  giving  him,  as  they  rode  along,  some  account  of  the  siege  and  of 
the  strength  of  the  place.  Oh  reaching  the  quarters  reserved  for  the  com- 
mander-in -chief,  Los  Velez  took  leave  of  the  prince  ;  and,  without  further 
ceremony,  gathering  his  knights  and  followers  about  him,  and  escorted  by  a 
company  of  horse,  he  rode  off  in  the  direction  of  his  town  of  Velez  Blanco, 
which  was  situated  at  no  great  distance,  amidst  the  wild  scenery  stretching 
towards  the  frontiers  of  Murcia.  Here  among  the  mountains  he  lived  in  a 
retirement  that  would  have  been  more  honourable  had  it  not  been  purchased 
by  so  flagrant  a  breach  of  duty.5 

The  whole  story  is  singularly  characteristic,  not  merely  of  the  man,  but  of 
the  times  in  which  he  lived.  Had  so  high-handed  and  audacious  a  proceeding 
occurred  in  our  day,  no  rank,  however  exalted,  could  have  screened  the 
offender  from  punishment.  As  it  was,  it  does  not  appear  that  any  attempt 
was  made  at  an  inquiry  into  the  marquis's  conduct.  Tnis  is  the  more  remark- 
able considering  that  it  involved  such  disrespect  to  a  sovereign  little  disposed 
to  treat  with  lenity  any  want  of  deference  to  himself.  The  explanation  of 
the  lenity  shown  by  him  on  the  present  occasion  may  perhaps  be  found,  not 

'  "  I  qne  seals  obedecido  de  toda  mi  pente,  summoned  to  Madrid,  where  he  long  con- 

haciendolo  yo  asimismo  como  hijo  vuestro,  tinned  to  occupy  an  important  place  in  the 

acatando  vuestro  valor  i  canas,  f  amparandome  council  of  state,  apparently  without  any  dimi- 

en    todas   ocasiones    de   vuestros    consejos."  nution  of  the  royal  favour. — For  the  preced- 

Mendoza,  Gnerra  de  Granada,  p.  260.  inp  pages  consult  Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Gra- 

4  "  Pues   no   conviene  a  mi  edad  anciana  nada,  torn.  ii.  pp.  229-232, — Mendo?a,  Guerra 
haver  de  ser  cabo  de  tsquadra."     Ibid.,  loc.  de    Granada,   pp.   257-260,  —  Herrpra,    Hist, 
cit.  genera!,  torn.  1.  pp.  777,  778, — Dleda,  Cronica, 

5  The  marquis  of  Los  Velez  was  afterwards  pp.  733,  734. 


INVESTMENT  OF  GALERA.  573 

in  any  tenderness  for  the  reputation  of  his  favourite,  but  in  Philip's  perceiving 
that  the  further  prosecution  of  the  affair  would  only  serve  to  give  greater 
publicity  to  his  own  egregious  error  in  retaining  Los  Yelez  in  the  command, 
when  his  conduct  and  the  warnings  of  others  should  long  ago  have  been 
regarded  as  proof  of  his  incapacity. 

On  the  marquis's  departure  Don  John  lost  no  time  in  resuming  his  march, 
at  the  head  of  a  force  which  now  amounted  to  twelve  thousand  foot  and  eight 
hundred  horse,  besides  a  brilliant  array  of  chivalry,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  had 
come  to  seek  their  fortunes  in  the  war.  A  few  hours  brought  the  troops  before 
Galera  ;  and  Don  John  proceeded  at  once  to  reconnoitre  the  ground.  In  this 
survey  he  was  attended  t>y  Quixada,  Requesens,  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
cavalry.  Having  completed  his  observations,  he  made  his  arrangements  for 
investing  the  place. 

The  town  of  Galera  occupied  a  site  singularly  picturesque.  This,  however, 
had  been  selected  certainly  not  from  any  regard  to  its  romantic  beauty,  still 
less  for  purposes  of  convenience,  but  for  those  of  defence  against  an  enemy, — 
a  circumstance  of  the  first  importance  in  a  mountain -country  so  wild  and 
warlike  as  that  in  which  Galera  stood.  The  singular  shape  of  the  rocky 
eminence  which  it  covered  was  supposed,  with  its  convex  summit,  to  bear 
some  resemblance  to  that  of  a  galley  with  its  keel  uppermost.  From  this 
resemblance  the  town  had  derived  its  name.' 

The  summit  was  crowned  by  a  castle,  which  in  the  style  of  its  architecture 
bore  evident  marks  of  antiquity.  It  was  defended  by  a  wall,  much  of  it  in  so 
ruinous  a  condition  as  to  be  little  better  than  a  mass  of  stones  loosely  put 
together.  At  a  few  paces  from  the  fortress  stood  a  ravelin.  But  neither  this 
outwork  nor  the  castle  itself  could  boast  of  any  other  piece  of  artillery  than 
two  falconets,  captured  from  Los  Velez  during  his  recent  siege  of  the  place, 
and  now  mounted  on  the  principal  edifice.  Even  these  had  been  so  injudi- 
ciously placed  as  to  give  little  annoyance  to  an  enemy. 

The  houses  of  the  inhabitants  stretched  along  the  remainder  of  the  summit, 
and  descended  by  a  bold  declivity  the  north-western  side  of  the  hill  to  a  broad 
plain  known  as  the  Eras,  or  "  Gardens."  Through  this  plain  flowed  a  stream 
of  consideiable  depth,  which,  as  it  washed  the  base  of  the  town  on  its 
northern  side,  formed  a  sort  of  moat  for  its  protection  on  that  quarter.  On  the 
side  towards  the  Gardens  the  town  was  defended  by  a  ditch  and  a  wall  now 
somewhat  dilapidated.  The  most  remarkable  feature  of  this  quarter  was  a 
church  with  its  belfry  or  tower,  now  converted  into  a  fortress,  which,  in  default 
of  cannon,  had  been  pierced  with  loopholes  and  filled  with  musketeers, — 
forming  altogether  an  outwork  of  considerable  strength,  and  commanding  the 
approaches  to  the  town. 

On  two  of  its  sides,  the  rock  on  which  Galera  rested  descended  almost  per- 
pendicularly, forming  the  walls  of  a  ravine  fenced  in  on  the  opposite  quarter 
by  precipitous  hills,  and  thus  presenting  a  sort  of  natural  ditch  on  a  gigantic 
scale  for  the  protection  of  the  place.  The  houses  rose  one  above  another,  on 
a  succession  of  terraces,  so  steep  that  in  many  instances  the  roof  of  one 
building  scarcely  reached  the  foundation  of  the  one  above  it.  The  houses 

*  The  punning  attractions  of  the  name  were  ban  annado  una  Galera 

too  «trung  to  be  resisted  by  the  ballad-makers  que  no  la  hay  tal  en  l.i  mar. 

of  the  day.    See  in  particular  the  romance  No  ttetie  velax,  nl  remos, 

(,uue  of  the  best.  It  may  be  added, — and  no  y  navegar,  y  bace  mal," — 

*r*at  pr»i*,-in  Hlta's  second  volume)  begin-  ^  M  on>  for  more  gUniM  th(m  thp  ^^ 

«  MaMredages  marlneros  ""M?"  *°  "ee>   G UCrrM  d'  Granadft- tom-  "' 

de  Huescar  y  otro  lugar  "' 


574  REBELLION  OP  THE  MORISCOES. 

which  occupied  the  same  terrace,  and  stood  therefore  on  the  same  level,  might 
be  regarded  as  so  many  fortresses.  Their  walls,  which,  after  the  Moorish 
fashion,  were  ill  provided  with  lattices,  were  pierced  with  loopholes,  that  gave 
the  marksmen  within  the  command  of  the  streets  on  which  they  fronted ; 
and  these  streets  were  still  further  protected  by  barricades  thrown  across 
them  at  only  fifty  paces'  distance  from  each  other.'  Thus  the  whole  place 
bristled  over  with  fortifications,  or  rather  seemed  like  one  great  fortification 
itself,  which  nature  had  combined  with  art  to  make  impregnable. 

It  was  well  victualled  for  a  siege,  at  least  with  grain,  of  which  there  was 
enough  in  the  magazines  for  two  years'  consumption.  Water  was  supplied  by 
the  neighbouring  river,  to  which  access  had  been  obtained  by  a  subterranean 
gallery  lately  excavated  in  the  rock.  These  necessaries  of  life  the  Moriscoes 
could  command.  But  they  were  miserably  deficient  in  what,  in  their  con- 
dition, was  scarcely  less  important, — fire-arms  and  ammunition.  They  had 
no  artillery  except  the  two  falconets  before  noticed  ;  and  they  were  so  poorly 
provided  with  muskets  as  to  be  mainly  dependent  on  arrows,  stones,  and  other 
missiles,  such  as  had  filled  the  armouries  of  their  ancestors.  To  these  might 
be  added  swords  and  some  other  weapons  for  hand-to-hand  combat.  Of 
defensive  armour  they  were  almost  wholly  destitute.  But  they  were  animated 
by  an  heroic  spirit,  of  more  worth  than  breastplate  or  helmet,  and  to  a  man 
they  were  prepared  to  die  rather  than  surrender. 

The  fighting-men  of  the  place  amounted  to  three  thousand,  not  including 
four  hundred  mercenaries,  chiefly  Turks  and  adventurers  from  the  Barbary 
shore.  The  town  was,  moreover,  encumbered  with  some  four  thousand  women 
and  children  ;  though,  as  far  as  the  women  were  concerned,  they  should  not 
be  termed  an  encumbrance  in  a  place  where  there  was  no  scarcity  of  food ; 
for  they  showed  all  the  constancy  and  contempt  of  danger  possessed  by  the 
men,  whom  they  aided  not  only  by  tending  the  sick  and  wounded,  but  by  the 
efficient  services  they  rendered  them  in  action.  The  story  of  this  siege  records 
several  examples  of  these  Morisco  heroines,  whose  ferocious  valour  emulated 
the  doughtiest  achievements  of  the  other  sex.  It  is  not  strange  that  a  place 
so  strong  in  itself,  where  the  women  were  animated  by  as  brave  a  spirit  as 
the  men,  should  have  bid  defiance  to  all  the  efforts  of  an  enemy  like  Los 
Velez,  though  backed  by  an  army  in  the  outset  at  least  as  formidable  in  point 
of  numbers  as  that  which  now  sat  down  before  it  under  the  command  of  John 
of  Austria.* 

Having  concluded  his  survey  of  the  ground,  the  Spanish  general  gave  orders 
for  the  construction  of  three  batteries,  to  operate  at  the  same  time  on  dif- 
ferent quarters  of  the  town.  The  first  and  largest  of  these  batteries,  mount- 
ing ten  pieces  of  ordnance,  was  raised  on  an  eminence  on  the  eastern  side  of 
the  ravine.  Though  at  a  greater  distance  than  was  desirable,  the  position 
was  sufficiently  elevated  to  enable  the  guns  to  command  the  castle  and  the 
highest  parts  of  the  town. 

'  "Las  tenian  los  Moros  barreaclas  de  cin-  he  was  not  present  at  the  siege  of  Galera; 

cuenta  en  cincuentii  pasos,  y  hectics  muchos  but  lie  had  in  his  possession  the  diary  of  a 

travels  de  una  parte  y  de  otro  en  las  pnertas  Murcian  officer  named  Tomis  Perez  da  Hevia, 

y  paredes  de  las  casas,  para  herir  a  su  salvo  who  served  through  the  siege,  and  of  whom 

a  los  que  fuesen  pasando."  Marmol,  Kebelion  Hita  speaks  as  a  person  well  known  for  his 

de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  234.— The  best  and  by  military  science.  He  says  he  has  conformed 

far  the  most  minute  account  of  the  topography  Implicitly  to  Hevia's  journal,  which  he  com- 

of  Galera  is  given  by  this  author.  mends  for  its  sciupulous  veracity.  According 

•  Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  i.  p.  to  the  judgment  of  some  critics,  the  Murcian 

233,  et  seq.— Vanderhammen,  Don  Juan  de  officer,  if  he  merits  this  encomium,  may  be 

Austria,  fol.  112,  113.  —  Hita,  Guerras  de  thought  to  have  the  advantage  of  Hita  him- 

Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  377,  et  seq.—  Hita  tells  us  self. 


INVESTMENT  OF  GALERA.  575 

The  second  battery,  consisting  of  six  heavy  cannon,  was  established  lower 
down  the  ravine,  towards  the  south,  at  the  distance  of  hardly  more  than 
seventy  paces  from  the  perpendicular  face  of  the  rock.  The  remaining  battery, 
composed  of  only  three  guns  of  smaller  calibre,  was  erected  in  the  Gardens, 
and  so  placed  as  to  operate  against  the  tower,  which,  as  already  noticed,  was 
attached  to  the  church 

The  whole  number  of  pieces  of  artillery  belonging  to  the  besiegers  did  not 
exceed  twenty.  But  they  were  hourly  expecting  a  reinforcement  of  thirteen 
more  from  Cartagena.  The  great  body  of  the  forces  was  disposed  behind 
some  high  ground  on  the  east,  which  effectually  sheltered  the  men  from  the 
fire  of  the  besieged.  The  corps  of  Italian  veterans,  the  flower  of  the  army, 
was  stationed  in  the  Gardens,  under  command  of  a  gallant  officer  named 
Pedro  de  Padilla.  Thus  the  investment  of  Galera  was  complete. 

The  first  object  of  attack  was  the  tower  in  the  Gardens,  from  which  the 
Moorish  garrison  kept  up  a  teasing  fire  on  the  Spaniards,  as  they  were  em- 
ployed in  the  coastruction  of  the  battery,  as  well  as  in  digging  a  trench,  in 
that  quarter.  No  sooner  were  the  guns  in  position  than  they  delivered  their 
fire,  with  such  effect  that  an  opening  was  speedily  made  in  the  flimsy  masonry 
of  the  fortress.  Padilla,  to  whom  the  assault  was  committed,  led  forward  his 
men  gallantly  to  the  breach,  where  he  was  met  by  the  defenders  with  a  spirit 
equal  to  his  own.  A  fierce  combat  ensued.  Jt  was  not  a  long  one  ;  for  the 
foremost  assailants  were  soon  reinforced  by  others,  until  they  overpowered 
the  little  garrison  by  numbers,  and  such  as  escaped  the  sword  took  refuge  in 
the  defences  of  the  town  that  adjoined  the  churcn. 

Flushed  with  his  success  in  thus  easily  carrying  the  tower,  which  he  gar- 
risoned with  a  strong  body  of  arquebusiers,  Don  John  now  determined  to 
make  a  regular  assault  on  the  town,  and  from  this  same  quarter  of  the 
Gardens,  as  affording  the  best  point  of  attack.  The  execution  of  the  affair 
he  intrusted,  as  before,  to  Juan  de  Padilla  and  his  Italian  regiment.  The 

Sins  were  then  turned  against  the  rampart  and  the  adjoining  buildings.  Don 
)hn  pushed  forward  the  siege  with  vigour,  stimulating  the  men  by  his  own 
example,  carrying  fagots  on  his  shoulders  for  constructing  the  trenches,  and, 
in  short,  performing  the  labours  of  a  common  soldier.' 

By  the  twenty-fourth  of  January,  practicable  breaches  had  been  effected  in 
the  ancient  wall ;  and  at  the  appointed  signal  Padilla  and  his  veterans  moved 
swiftly  forward  to  the  attack.  They  met  with  little  difficulty  from  the  ditch 
or  from  the  wall,  which,  never  formidable  from  its  height,  now  presented 
more  than  one  opening  to  the  assailants.  They  experienced  as  little  resistance 
from  the  garrison.  But  they  had  not  penetrated  far  into  the  town  before  the 
aspect  of  things  changed.  Their  progress  was  checked  by  one  of  those  barri- 
cades already  mentioned  as  stretched  across  the  streets,  behind  which  a  body 
of  musketeers  poured  well-directed  volleys  into  the  ranks  of  the  Christians. 
At  the  same  time,  from  the  loopholes  in  the  walls  of  the  buildings  came 
incessant  showers  of  musket-balls,  arrows,  stones,  and  other  missiles,  which 
swept  the  exposed  files  of  the  Spaniards,  soon  covering  the  streets  with  the 
bodies  of  the  slain  and  the  wounded.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  assailants 
stormed  the  houses  and  carried  one  intrenchment  after  another.  Each  house 
was  a  separate  fortress  ;  and  each  succeeding  Iwirricade.  as  the  ascent  became 
steeper,  gave  additional  advantage  to  its  defenders,  by  placing  them  on  a 
greater  elevation  above  their  enemy. 

•  "Para  que  lew  aoldados  no  anlmanen  al        la  trincbea."    Mannol,  Rebelion  de  Granada, 
trabnjo,  iba  delante  de  Uxlus  a  pie,  y  trafa  su        torn.  11.  p.  237. 
haz  acuestas  comucada  nno,  husta  pooerlo  en 


576  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

Thus  beset  in  front,  flank,  and  rear,  the  soldiers  were  completely  blinded 
and  bewildered  by  the  pitiless  storm  which  poured  on  them  from  their  invisible 
foe.  Huddled  together,  in  their  confusion  they  presented  an  easy  mark  to  the 
enemy,  who  shot  at  random,  knowing  that  every  missile  would  carry  its  errand 
of  death.  It  seemed  that  the  besieged  had  purposely  drawn  their  foes  into 
the  snare,  by  allowing  them  to  enter  the  town  without  resistance,  until,  hemmed 
in  on  all  sides,  they  were  slaughtered  like  cattle  in  the  shambles. 

The  fight  had  lasted  an  hour,  when  Padilla,  seeing  his  best  and  bravest 
falling  around  him,  and  being  himself  nearly  disabled  by  a  wound,  gave  the 
order  to  retreat,— an  order  obeyed  with  such  alacrity  that  the  Spaniards  left 
numbers  of  their  wounded  comrades  lying  in  the  streets,  vainly  imploring  not 
to  be  abandoned  to  the  mercy  of  their  enemies.  A  greater  number  than  usual 
of  officers  and  men  of  rank  perished  in  the  assault,  their  rich  arms  making 
them  a  conspicuous  mark  amidst  the  throng  of  assailants.  Among  others  was 
a  soldier  of  distinction  named  Juan  de  Pacheco.  He  was  a  knight  of  the  order 
of  St.  James.  He  had  joined  the  army  only  a  few  minutes  before  the  attack, 
having  just  crossed  the  seas  from  Africa.  He  at  once  requested  Padilla,  who 
was  his  kinsman,  to  allow  him  to  share  in  the  glory  of  the  day.  In  the  heat 
of  the  struggle  Padilla  lost  sight  of  his  gallant  relative,  whose  insignia,  pro- 
claiming him  a  soldier  of  the  Cross,  made  him  a  peculiar  object  of  detestation 
to  the  Moslems  ;  and  he  soon  fell,  under  a  multitude  of  wounds.10 

The  disasters  of  the  day,  however  mortifying,  were  not  a  bad  lesson  to  the 
young  comniander-in-chief,  who  saw  the  necessity  of  more  careful  preparation 
before  renewing  his  attempt  on  the  place.  He  acknowledged  the  value  of  his 
brother's  counsel  to  make  free  use  of  artillery  and  mines  before  coming  to  close 
quarters  with  the  enemy.11  He  determined  to  open  a  mine  in  the  perpen- 
dicular side  of  the  rock,  towards  the  east,  and  to  run  it  below  the  castle  and 
the  neighbouring  houses  on  the  summit  For  this  he  employed  the  services  of 
Francesco  de  Molina,  who  had  so  stoutly  defended  Orgiba,  and  who  was  aided 
in  the  present  work  by  a  skilful  Venetian  engineer.  The  rock,  consisting  of  a 
light  and  brittle  sandstone,  was  worked  with  even  less  difficulty  than  hail  been 
expected.  In  a  short  time  the  gallery  was  completed,  and  forty-five  barrels  of 
powder  were  lodged  in  it.  Meanwhile  the  batteries  continued  to  play  with 
great  vivacity  on  the  different  quarters  of  the  town  and  castle.  A  small  breach 
was  opened  in  the  latter,  and  many  buildings  on  the  summit  of  the  rock  were 
overthrown.  By  the  twenty-seventh  of  January  all  was  ready  for  the  assault. 

It  was  Don  John's  purpose  to  assail  the  place 'on  opposite  quarters.  Padilla, 
who  still  smarted  from  his  wound,  was  to  attack  the  town,  as  before,  on  the 
side  towards  the  Gardens.  The  chief  object  of  this  manoeuvre  was  to  create  a 
diversion  in  favour  of  the  principal  assault,  which  was  to  be  made  on  the  other 
side  of  the  rock,  where  the  springing  of  the  mine,  it  was  expected,  would  open 
a  ready  access  to  the  castle.  The  command  on  this  quarter  was  given  to  a 
brave  officer  named  Antonio  Moreno.  Don  John,  at  the  head  of  four  thou- 
sand men,  occupied  a  position  which  enabled  him  to  overlook  the  scene  of 
action. 

On  the  twenty-seventh,  at  eight  in  the  morning,  the  signal  was  given  by  the 
firing  of  a  cannon  ;  and  Padilla,  at  the  head  of  his  veterans,  moved  forward  to 
the  attack.  They  effected  their  entrance  into  the  town,  with  even  less  oppo- 

10  Marmot,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  "  "  Convendri  por  no  aventurar  mas  gente 

pp.   236-238. — Hevia,  ap.   Hita,  Guerras  de  Tiuena  que  se  haga  todo  lo  que  sea  porible  con 

Granada,  torn.  ii.  pp.  386,  387. — Vanderham-  las  minas  y  artilleria,  sintes  de  venir  &  las 

mpn,   Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  113.— Fer-  manos."   Carta  dfl  Key  a  I).  Juan  de  Austria, 

reras,  Hist,  d'tspagne,  torn.  x.  p.  140.  6  de  Febrero,  1570,  MS. 


FIERCE  ASSAULTS.  577 

sition  than  before  ;  for  the  cannonade  from  the  Gardens  had  blown  away  most 
of  the  houses,  garrisoned  by  the  Moslems,  near  the  wall.  But  as  the  assailants 
pushed  on  they  soon  became  entangled,  as  before,  in  the  long  and  narrow 
defiles.  The  enemy,  intrenched  behind  their  redoubts  thrown  across  the 
streets,  poured  down  their  murderous  volleys  into  the  close  ranks  of  the  Span- 
iards, who  were  overwhelmed,  as  on  the  former  occasion,  with  deadly  missiles 
of  all  kinds  from  the  occupants  of  the  houses.  But  experience  had  prepared 
them  for  this ;  and  they  had  come  provided  with  mantelets,  to  shelter  them 
from  the  tempest.  Yet,  when  the  annoyance  became  intolerable,  they  would 
storm  the  dwellings ;  and  a  bloody  struggle  usually  ended  in  putting  their 
inmates  to  the  swori  Each  barricade  too,  as  the  Spaniards  advanced,  became 
the  scene  of  a  desperate  combat,  where  the  musket  was  cast  aside,  and  men 
fought  hand  to  hand,  with  sword  and  dagger.  Now  rose  the  fierce  battle-cries 
of  the  combatants,  one  party  calling  on  Saint  Jago,  the  other  on  Mohammed, 
thus  intimating  that  it  was  still  the  same  war  of  the  Cross  and  the  Crescent 
which  had  been  carried  on  for  more  than  eight  centuries  in  the  Peninsula.'* 
The  shouts  of  the  combatants,  the  clash  of  weapons,  the  report  of  musketry 
from  the  adjoining  houses,  the  sounds  of  falling  missiles,  filled  the  air  with  an 
unearthly  dm,  that  was  reverberated  and  prolonged  in  countless  echoes  through 
the  narrow  streets,  converting  the  once  peaceful  city  into  a  pandemonium. 
Still  the  Spaniards,  though  slowly  winning  their  way  through  every  obstacle, 
were  far  from  the  table-land  on  the  summit,  where  they  hoped  to  join  their 
countrymen  from  the  other  quarter  of  the  town.  At  this  cnsis  a  sound  arose 
which  overpowered  every  other  sound  in  this  wild  uproar,  and  for  a  few 
moments  suspended  the  conflict 

This  was  the  bursting  of  the  mine,  which  Don  John,  seeing  Padilla  well 
advanced  in  his  assault,  had  now  given  the  order  to  fire.  In  an  instant  came 
the  terrible  explosion,  shaking  Galera  to  its  centre,  rending  the  portion  of  the 
rock  above  the  gallery  into  fragments,  toppling  down  the  houses  on  its  summit, 
and  burying  more  than  six  hundred  Moriscoes  in  the  ruins.  As  the  smoke 
and  dust  of  the  falling  buildings  cleared  away,  and  the  Spaniards  from  below 
beheld  the  miserable  survivors  crawling  forth,  as  well  as  their  mangled  limbs 
would  allow,  they  set  up  a  fierce  yell  of  triumph.  The  mine,  however,  had 
done  but  half  the  mischief  intended  ;  for,  by  a  miscalculation  in  the  direction, 
it  had  passed  somewhat  to  the  right  of  the  castle,  which,  as  well  as  the  ravelin, 
remained  uninjured.  Yet  a  small  breach  had  been  opened  by  the  artillery  in 
the  former ;  and,  what  was  more  important,  through  the  shattered  sides  of  the 
rock  itself  a  passage  had  been  made,  which,  though  strewn  with  the  fallen 
rubbish,  might  afford  a  practicable  entrance  to  the  storming-party. 

The  soldiers,  seeing  the  chasm,  now  loudly  called  to  be  led  to  the  assault. 
Besides  the  thirst  for  vengeance  on  the  rebels  who  had  so  long  set  them  at 
defiance,  they  were  stimulated  by  the  desire  of  plunder ;  for  Galera,  from  its 
great  strength,  had  been  selected  as  a  place  of  deposit  for  the  jewels,  rich  stuffs, 
and  other  articles  of  value  belonging  to  the  people  in  the  neighbourhood.  The 
officers,  before  making  the  attack,  were  anxious  to  examine  the  breach  and 
have  the  rubbish  cleared  away,  so  as  to  make  the  ascent  easier  for  the  troops. 
But  the  fierce  and  ill-disciplined  levies  were  too  impatient  for  this.  Without 
heeding  the  commands  or  remonstrances  of  their  leaders,  one  after  another 
they  broke  their  ranks,  and,  crying  the  old  national  war-cries,  "  San  Jcvjo  !  " 

"  "  Uno»  Hainan  a  Mahoms,  —  Romance,  ap.  Hit*,  Guerras  de  Granada, 

otros  dlcen  Santiago,  torn.  il.  p.  456. 

Otron  entail  cierra.  Erpoila, 
vivera  cl  band-i  ien>gadti.n 


578  REBELLION  OF  THE  MOE1SCOES. 

"Cierra  Espana!"  "St.  James!"  and  "Close  up  Spain!"  they  rushed 
madly  forward,  and,  springing  lightly  over  the  ruins  in  their  pathway,  soon 
planted  themselves  on  the  summit.  The  officers,  thus  deserted,  were  not  long 
in  following,  resolved  to  avail  themselves  of  the  enthusiasm  of  the  men. 

Fortunately,  the  Moriscoes,  astounded  by  the  explosion,  had  taken  refuge 
in  the  town,  and  thus  left  undefended  a  position  which  might  have  given  great 
annoyance  to  the  Spaniards.  Yet  the  cry  no  sooner  rose  that  the  enemy  had 
scaled  the  heights  than,  recovering  from  their  panic,  they  hurried  back  to  man 
the  defences.  When  the  assailants,  therefore,  had  been  brought  into  order  and 
formed  into  column  for  the  attack,  they  were  received  with  a  well-directed  fire 
from  the  falconets,  and  with  volleys  of  musketry  from  the  ravelin,  that  for  a 
moment  checked  their  advance.  But  then,  rallying,  they  gallantly  pushed 
forward  through  the  fiery  sleet,  and  soon  found  themselves  in  face  of  the  breach 
which  had  been  made  in  the  castle  by  their  artillery.  The  opening,  scarcely  wide 
enough  to  allow  two  to  pass  abreast,  was  defended  by  men  as  strong  and  stout- 
hearted as  their  assailants.  A  desperate  struggle  ensued,  in  which  the  besieged 
bravely  held  their  ground,  though  a  Castilian  ensign,  named  Zapata,  succeeded 
in  forcing  his  way  into  the  place,  and  even  in  planting  his  standard  on  the 
battlements.  But  it  was  speedily  torn  down  by  the  enemy,  while  the  brave 
cavalier,  pierced  with  wounds,  was  thrown  headlong  on  the  rocky  ground 
below,  still  clutching  the  standard  with  his  dying  grasp. 

Meanwhile,  the  defenders  of  the  ravelin  kept  up  a  plunging  fire  of  musketry 
on  the  assailants ;  while  stones,  arrows,  javelins,  fell  thick  as  rain-drops  on 
their  heads,  rattling  on  the  harness  of  the  cavaliers,  and  inflicting  many  a 
wound  on  the  ill -protected  bodies  of  the  soldiery.  The  Morisco  women  bore 
a  brave  part  in  the  fight,  showing  the  same  indifference  to  danger  as  their 
husbands  and  brothel's,  and  rolling  down  heavy  weights  on  the  ranks  of  the 
besiegers.  These  women  had  a  sort  of  military  organization,  being  formed 
into  companies.  Sometimes  they  even  joined  in  hand-to-hand  combats  with 
their  enemies,  wielding  their  swords  ana  displaying  a  prowess  worthy  of  the 
stronger  sex  One  of  these  Amazons,  whose  name  became  famous  in  the 
siege,  was  seen  on  this  occasion  to  kill  her  antagonist  and  bear  away  his  armour 
as  the  spoils  of  victory.  It  was  said  that,  before  she  received  her  mortal 
wound,  several  Spaniards  fell  by  her  hand." 

Thus,  while  the  besieged,  secure  within  their  defences,  suffered  comparatively 
little,  the  attacking-column  was  thrown  into  disorder.  Most  of  its  leaders 
were  killed  or  wounded.  Its  ranks  were  thinned  by  the  incessant  fire  from  the 
ravelin  and  castle ;  and,  though  it  still  maintained  a  brave  spirit,  its  strength 
was  fast  ebbing  away.  Don  John,  who,  from  his  commanding  position,  had 
watched  the  field,  saw  the  necessity  of  sending  to  the  support  of  nis  troops  six 
companies  of  the  reserve,  which  were  soon  followed  by  two  others.  Thus 
reinforced,  they  were  enabled  to  keep  then-  ground. 

Meanwhile,  the  Italian  regiment  under  Padilla  had  penetrated  far  into  the 
town.  But  they  had  won  their  way  inch  by  inch,  and  it  had  cost  them  dear. 
There  was  not  an  officer,  it  was  said,  that  had  not  been  wounded.  Four 
captains  had  fallen.  Padilla,  who  had  not  recovered  from  his  fonner  wound, 
had  now  received  another  still  more  severe.  His  men,  though  showing  a  bold 
front,  had  been  so  roughly  handled  that  it  was  clear  they  could  never  fight 

15  No    less    than    eighteen,  according    to  recia  de  miernbros,  y  alcanzaba  grand  isima 

Hevia.     But  this  number,  notwithstanding  fucrza  :  se  averiguo  que  en  este  dia  mat6  ella 

Hita's  wa_rrant  for  the  writer's  scrupulous  sola  por  su  mano  a  diez  y  ocho  soldados,  no 

accuracy,  is  Fomewhat  too  heavy  a  tax  on  the  de  los  peores  del  campo."     Hita,  Guerras  de 

credulity  of  the  reader :  "  Esta  brava  rnura  se  Grauada,  torn.  ii.  p.  393. 
llumaba  la   Z  irzamodonia,    era   corpulenta, 


FIERCE  ASSAULTS.  579 

through  the  obstacles  in  their  way  and  join  their  comrades  on  the  heights. 
While  little  mindful  of  his  own  wounds,  Padilla  saw  with  anguish  the  blood  of 
his  brave  followers  thus  poured  out  in  vain  ;  and,  however  reluctantly,  he 
gave  the  order  to  retreat.  This  command  was  the  signal  for  a  fresh  storm  of 
missiles  from  the  enemy.  But  the  veterans  of  Naples,  closing  up  their  ranks 
as  a  comrade  fell,  effected  their  retreat  in  the  same  cool  and  orderly  manner  in 
which  they  had  advanced,  and,  though  woefully  crippled,  regained  their  posi- 
tion in  the  trenches. 

Thus  disengaged  from  the  conflict  on  this  quarter,  the  victorious  Moslems 
hastened  to  the  support  of  their  countrymen  in  the  castle,  where  they  served 
to  counterbalance  the  reinforcement  received  by  the  assailants.  They  fell  at 
once  on  the  rear  of  the  Christians,  whose  front  ranks  were  galled  by  the  guns 
from  the  enemy's  battery, — though  clumsily  served, — while  their  flanks  were 
sorely  scathed  by  the  storm  of  musketry  that  swept  down  from  the  ravelin. 
Thus  hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  they  were  indeed  in  a  perilous  situation.  Several 
of  the  captains  were  killed.  All  the  officers  were  either  killed  or  wounded ; 
and  the  narrow  ground  on  which  they  struggled  for  mastery  was  heaped  with 
the  bodies  of  the  slain.  Yet  their  spirits  were  not  broken ;  and  the  tide  of 
battle,  after  three  hours'  duration,  still  continued  to  rage  with  impotent  fury 
around  the  fortress.  They  still  strove,  with  desperate  energy,  to  scale  the 
walls  of  the  ravelin  and  to  force  a  way  through  the  narrow  breach  in  the  castle. 
But  the  besieged  succeeded  in  closing  up  the  opening  with  heavy  masses  of 
stone  and  timber,  which  defied  the  failing  strength  of  trie  assailants. 

Another  hour  had  now  elapsed,  and  Don  John,  as  from  his  station  he 
watched  the  current  of  the  fight,  saw  that  to  prolong  the  contest  would  only 
be  to  bring  wider  ruin  on  his  followers.  He  accordingly  gave  the  order  to 
retreat  But  the  men  who  had  so  impetuously  rushed  to  the  attack  in  defiance 
of  the  commands  of  their  officers  now  showed  the  same  spirit  of  insubordina- 
tion when  commanded  to  leave  it ;  like  the  mastiff,  who,  maddened  by  the 
wounds  he  has  received  in  the  conflict,  refuses  to  loosen  his  hold  on  his 
antagonist,  in  spite  of  the  chiding  of  his  master.  Seeing  his  orders  thus 
unheeded,  Don  John,  accompanied  by  his  staff',  resolved  to  go  in  person  to  the 
scene  of  action  and  enforce  obedience  by  his  presence.  But  on  reaching  the 
spot  he  was  hit  on  his  cuirass  by  a  musket-ball,  which,  although  it  glanced 
from  the  well-tempered  metal,  came  with  sufficient  force  to  bring  him  to  the 
ground.  The  watchful  Quixada,  not  far  distant,  sprang  to  his  aid ;  but  it 
appeared  he  had  received  no  injury.  His  conduct,  however,  brought  down  an 
affectionate  remonstrance  from  his  guardian,  who,  reminding  him  of  the  king's 
injunctions,  besought  him  to  retire,  and  not  thus  expose  a  life,  so  precious  as 
that  of  the  com mander-in -chief,  to  the  hazards  of  a  common  soldier. 

The  account  of  the  accident  soon  spread,  with  the  usual  exaggerations, 
among  the  troops,  who,  after  the  prince's  departure,  yielded  a  slow  and  sullen 
obedience  to  his  commands.  Thus  for  a  second  time  the  field  of  battle 
remained  in  possession  of  the  Moslems  ;  and  the  banner  of  the  Crescent  still 
waved  triumphantly  from  the  battlements  of  Galera.14 

The  loss  was  a  heavy  one  to  the  Spaniards,  amounting,  according  to  their 
own  accounts, — which  will  not  be  suspected  of  exaggeration, — to  uotless  than 
four  hundred  killed  and  five  hundred  wounded.  That  of  the  enemy,  screened 
by  his  defences,  must  have  been  comparatively  light  The  loss  fell  most 

14  For  an  account  of  the  second  assault,  nee  Austria,  fid.    113,   114,  —  He  via,  ap.    Iliia. 

Mpiidota,  (rU'-tra  <le  Gr.mada,  pp.  -lit.  2b5, —  ( iiirrrus  dc  Uranada,  torn.  it.  p.  389,  et  gcq., — 

Marmul,  Kebetion  dc  GranatU,   tnm.  II.  pp.  Cabrera,  Kllipu  Soguudo,  pp.  t>29,  6JO. 
240-243,  —  Vaud^rhammen,    Dou    Juan    do 


580  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

severely  on  the  Spanish  chivalry,  whose  showy  dress  naturally  drew  the  atten- 
tion of  the  well-trained  Morisco  marksmen.  The  bloody  roll  is  inscribed  with 
the  names  of  many  a  noble  house  in  both  Andalusia  and  Castile. 

This  second  reverse  of  his  arms  stung  Don  John  to  the  quick.  The  eyes  of 
his  countrymen  were  upon  him  ;  and  he  well  knew  the  sanguine  anticipations 
they  had  formed  of  his  campaign,  and  that  they  would  hold  him  responsible 
for  its  success.  His  heart  was  filled  with  mourning  for  the  loss  of  his  brave 
companions  in  arms.  Yet  he  did  not  give  vent  to  unmanly  lamentation  ;  but 
he  showed  his  feelings  in  another  form,  which  did  little  honour  to  his  heart. 
Turning  to  his  officers,  he  exclaimed,  "  The  infidels  shall  pay  dear  for  the 
Christian  blood  they  have  spilt  this  day.  The  next  assault  will  place  Galera 
in  our  power ;  and  every  soul  within  its  walls — man,  woman,  and  child — shall 
be  put  to  the  sword.  Not  one  shall  be  spared.  The  houses  shall  be  razed  to 
the  ground ;  and  the  ground  they  covered  shall  be  sown  with  salt." 1S  This 
inhuman  speech  was  received  with  general  acclamations.  As  the  event  proved, 
it  was  not  an  empty  menace. 

The  result  of  his  operations  showed  Don  John  the  prudence  of  his  brother's 
recommendation  to  make  good  use  of  his  batteries  and  his  mines  before  coming 
to  close  quarters  with  the  enemy.  Philip,  in  a  letter  written  some  time  after 
this  defeat,  alluding  to  the  low  state  of  discipline  in  the  camp,  urged  his 
brother  to  give  greater  attention  to  the  morals  of  the  soldiers,— to  guard 
especially  against  profanity  and  other  offences  to  religion,  that  by  so  doing  he 
might  secure  the  favour  of  the  Almighty.18  Don  John  had  intimated  to 
Philip  that,  under  some  circumstances,  it  might  be  necessary  to  encourage  his 
men  by  leading  them  in  person  to  the  attack.  But  the  king  rebuked  the 
spirit  of  the  knight-errant,  as  not  suited  to  the  commander,  and  admonished 
his  brother  that  the  place  for  him  was  in  the  rear ;  that  there  he  might  be  of 
service  in  stimulating  the  ardour  of  the  remiss  ;  adding  that  those  who  went 
forward  promptly  in  the  fight  had  no  need  of  his  presence  to  encourage  them.17 

Don  John  lost  no  time  in  making  his  preparations  for  a  third  and  last 
assault.  He  caused  two  new  mines  to  be  opened  in  the  rock,  on  either  side  of 
the  former  one,  and  at  some  thirty  paces'  distance  from  it.  While  this  was 
going  on,  he  directed  that  all  the  artillery  should  play  without  intermission  on 
the  town  and  castle.  His  battering- train,  meantime,  was  reinforced  by  the 
arrival  of  fourteen  additional  pieces  of  heavy  ordnance  from  Cartagena. 

The  besieged  were  no  less  busy  in  preparing  for  their  defence.  The  women 
and  children  toiled  equally  with  the  men  in  repairing  the  damages  in  the 
works.  The  breaches  were  closed  with  heavy  stones  and  timber.  The  old 
barricades  were  strengthened,  and  new  ones  thrown  across  the  streets.  The 
magazines  were  filled  with  fresh  supplies  of  stones  and  arrows.  Long  practice 
haa  made  the  former  missile  a  more  formidable  weapon  than  usual  in  the 
hands  of  the  Moriseoes.  They  were  amply  provided  with  water,  and,  as  we 
have  seen,  were  well  victualled  for  a  siege  longer  than  this  was  likely  to  prove. 
But  in  one  respect,  and  that  of  the  last  importance,  they  were  miserably 

"  "  Yo  bnndire  a.  Galera,  y  la  asolare1,  y  den  bacer  cosa  bnena,  y  asf  lo  procurad,  y  que 

pembrare  toda  de  pal ;  y  por  el  rigurosofilo  de  no  haya  jiirairentos  ni  otras  otensas  de  Dios, 

la  espada  pasaran  cliicos  y  grandes,  quantos  que  con  esto  el  nos  ayudara  y  torto  se  hanl 

estin  dentro,  por  castigo  de  su  pertinacia,  y  bien."    Carta  de  Rey  a  D.  Juun  de  Austria,  6 

en  venganza  de  la  cangre  que  ban  derramado."  de  Febrero,  1570,  MS. 
Mannol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  244.  "  "  Y  con  esa  gente.  Begun  lo  que  decfs, 

'•  "  No  puedo  yo  dejar  de  encargaros  que  mas  importara  rstar  detras  dellos  deteniendo- 

le  tcngais  muy  grande  de  qne  el  no  sea  dcstr-  log  y  castig&ndolog  que  no  delante,  pues  para 

vido  en   ese  campo,  nl  haya  las  maldades  y  los  que  lo  cctan  y  haccn  lo  que  deben  no  es 

des^rdenes  que  decfs,  que  siendo  tales  no  pue-  menester."    Ibid. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  A  LAST  ATTACK.  581 

deficient.  Their  powder  was  nearly  all  expended.  They  endeavoured  to 
obtain  supplies  of  ammunition,  as  well  as  reinforcements  of  men,  from  Aben- 
Aboo.  But  the  Morisco  prince  was  fully  occupied  at  this  time  with  maintaining 
his  ground  against  the  duke  of  Sesa  in  the  west  His  general,  El  Habaqui, 
who  had  charge  of  the  eastern  army,  encouraged  the  people  of  Galera  to  remain 
firm,  assuring  them  that  before  long  he  should  be  able  to  come  to  their  assist- 
ance. But  tune  was  precious  to  the  besieged.18 

The  Turkish  auxiliaries  in  the  garrison  greatly  doubted  the  possibility  of 
maintaining  themselves,  with  no  better  ammunition  than  stones  and  arrows, 
against  the  well-served  artillery  of  the  Spaniards.  Their  leaders  accordingly, 
in  a  council  of  war,  proposed  that  the  troops  should  sally  forth  and  cut  their 
way  through  the  lines  of  the  besiegers,  while  the  women  and  children  might 
pass  out  by  the  subterranean  avenue  which  conducted  to  the  river,  the  exist- 
ence of  which,  we  are  told,  was  unknown  to  the  Christians.  The  Turks,  mere 
soldiers  of  fortune,  had  no  local  attachment  or  patriotic  feeling  to  bind  them 
to  the  soil.  But  when  their  proposal  was  laid  before  the  inhabitants,  they  all, 
women  as  well  as  men,  treated  the  proposition  with  disdain,  showing  their 
determination  to  defend  the  city  to  the  last,  and  to  perish  amidst  its  ruins 
rather  than  surrender. 

Still  sustained  by  the  hope  of  succour,  the  besieged  did  what  they  could  to 
keep  off  the  day  of  the  assault  They  did  not,  indeed,  attempt  to  counter- 
mine ;  for,  if  they  had  possessed  the  skill  for  this,  they  had  neither  tools  nor 
powder.  But  they  made  sorties  on  the  miners,  and,  though  always  repulsed 
with  loss,  they  contrived  to  hold  the  camp  of  the  besiegers  in  a  constant  state 
of  alarm. 

On  the  sixth  of  February  the  engineers  who  had  charge  of  the  mines  gave 
notice  that  their  work  was  completed.  The  following  morning  was  named  for 
the  assault.  The  orders  of  the  day  prescribed  that  a  general  cannonade  should 
open  on  the  town  at  six  in  the  morning.  It  was  to  continue  an  hour,  when 
the  mines  were  to  be  sprung.  The  artillery  would  then  play  for  another 
hour  ;  after  which  the  signal  for  the  attack  would  be  given.  The  signal  was 
to  be  the  firing  of  one  gun  from  each  of  the  batteries,  to  be  followed  by  a 
simultaneous  discharge  from  all.  The  orders  directed  the  troops  to  show  no 
quarter  to  man,  woman,  or  child. 

On  the  seventh  of  February,  the  last  day  of  the  Carnival,  the  besiegers 
were  under  anus  with  the  earliest  dawn.  Their  young  commander  attracted 
every  eye  by  the  splendour  of  his  person  and  appointments.  He  was  armed 
cap-d-pie,  and  wore  a  suit  of  burnished  steel  richly  inlaid  with  gold.  His 
casqne,  overshadowed  by  brilliant  plumes,  was  ornamented  with  a  medallion 
displaying  the  image  of  the  Virgin.19  In  his  hand  he  carried  the  baton  of 
command;  and  as  he  rode  along  the  lines,  addressing  a  few  words  of  en- 
couragement to  the  soldiers,  his  perfect  horsemanship,  his  princely  bearing, 
and  the  courtesy  of  his  manners,  reminded  the  veterans  of  the  happier  days 
of  his  father,  the  emperor.  The  cavaliers  by  whom  he  was  surrounded  emu- 
lated their  chief  in  the  richness  of  their  appointments  ;  and  the  Murcian 
chronicler,  present  on  that  day,  dwells  with  complacency  on  the  beautiful 

'•  It  In  singular  that  no  one  of  the  chronl-  Ahenhozmin  ha  por  nornhre. 

.clers  jfivpn  us  the  name  of  the  Moorish  rhi'-f  yea  homhre  de  gran  caudal." 

who  commanded  in  lialera.     A  romance  of  — Hita,  (iuerras  de  (iranada,  torn.  li.  p.  4TO. 
the  time  calls  him  Abenhozmin  :  ,.  ..  R€,lumbrante  y  fortMmo  morrion  ador- 

"  Marlnero  que  la  rlge  nailo  de  1111  penacho  hello  y  elegante,  Rontailo 

Smriii-lno  m  natural,  nobre  una  rica  medulla  de  la  imagcn  de  nueru 

criado  aoi  en  nueotra  Knpafla  tra  Srnora  de  la  Concepclon."      1 1  r  via,  ap. 

pur  MI  mal  y  nue*lro  mal :  Hita,  Uuerras  de  Granada,  torn.  li.  p.  429. 


582  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

array  of  Southern  chivalry  gathered  together  for  the  final  assault  upon 
Galera.20 

From  six  o'clock  till  seven,  a  furious  cannonade  was  kept  up  from  the  whole 
circle  of  batteries  on  the  devoted  town.  Then  came  the  order  to  fire  the 
mines.  The  deafening  roar  of  ordnance  was  at  once  hushed  into  a  silence 
profound  as  that  of  death,  while  every  soldier  in  the  trenches  waited,  with 
nervous  suspense,  for  the  explosion.  At  length  it  came,  overturning  houses, 
shaking  down  a  fragment  of  the  castle,  rending  wider  the  breach  in  the  per- 
pendicular side  of  the  rock,  and  throwing  oft  the  fragments  with  the  force  of 
a  volcano.  Only  one  mine,  however,  exploded.  It  was  soon  followed  by  the 
other,  which,  though  it  did  less  damage,  spread  such  consternation  among 
the  garrison  that,  fearing  there  might  still  be  a  third  in  reserve,  the  men 
abandoned  their  works  and  took  refuge  in  the  town. 

When  the  smoke  and  dust  had  cleared  away,  an  officer  with  a  few  soldiers 
•was  sent  to  reconnoitre  the  breach.  They  soon  returned  with  the  tidings  that 
the  garrison  had  tied  and  left  the  works  wholly  unprotected.  On  hearing 
this,  the  troops,  with  furious  shouts,  called  out  to  be  led  at  once  to  the  assault. 
It  was  in  vain  that  the  officers  remonstrated,  enforcing  their  remonstrances, 
in  some  instances,  by  blows  with  the  flat  of  their  sabres.  The  blood  of  the 
soldiery  was  up ;  and,  like  an  ill-disciplined  rabble,  they  sprang  from  their 
trenches  in  wild  disorder,  as  before,  and,  hurrying  their  officers  along  with 
them,  soon  scaled  the  perilous  ascent,  and  crowned  the  heights  without  oppo- 
sition from  the  enemy.  Hurrying  over  the  debris  that  strewed  the  ground, 
they  speedily  made  themselves  masters  of  the  deserted  fortress  and  its  out- 
works,— filling  the  air  with  shouts  of  victory. 

The  fugitives  saw  their  mistake,  as  they  beheld  the  enemy  occupying  the 
position  they  had  abandoned.  There  was  no  more  apprehension  of  mines. 
Eager  to  retrieve  their  error,  they  rushed  back,  as  by  a  common  impulse,  to 
dispute  the  possession  of  the  ground  with  the  Spaniards.  It  was  too  lata 
The  guns  were  turned  on  them  from  their  own  battery.  The  arquebusiers 
who  lined  the  ravelin  showered  down  on  their  heads  missiles  more  formidable 
than  stones  and  arrows.  But,  though  their  powder  was  nearly  gone,  the 
Moriscpes  could  still  make  fight  with  sword  and  dagger,  and  they  boldly 
closed  in  a  hand-to-hand  contest  with  their  enemy.  It  was  a  deadly  struggle, 
calling  out — as  close  personal  contest  is  sure  to  do— the  fiercest  passions  of 
the  combatants.  No  quarter  was  given ;  none  was  asked.  The  Spaniard 
was  nerved  by  the  confidence  of  victory,  the  Mprisco  by  the  energy  of  despair. 
Both  fought  like  men  who  knew  that  on  the  issue  of  this  conflict  depended 
the  fate  of  Galera.  Again  the  war-cries  of  the  two  religions  rose  above  the 
din  of  battle,  as  the  one  party  invoked  their  military  apostle  and  the  other 
called  on  Mahomet.  It  was  the  same  war-cry  which  for  more  than  eight 
centuries  had  sounded  over  hill  and  valley  in  unhappy  Spain.  These  were 
its  dying  notes,  soon  to  expire  with  the  exile  or  extermination  of  the  con- 
quered race. 

The  conflict  was  at  length  terminated  by  the  arrival  of  a  fresh  body  of 
troops  on  the  field  with  Padilla.  That  chief  had  attacked  the  town  by  the 
same  avenue  as  before ;  everywhere  he  had  met  with  the  same  spirit  of  resist- 
ance. But  the  means  of  successful  resistance  were  gone.  Many  of  the  houses 
on  the  streets  had  been  laid  in  ruins  by  the  fire  of  the  artillery.  Such  as  still 
held  out  were  defended  by  men  armed  with  no  better  weapons  than  stones 

ao  "  Igualmente  se  arre6  lo  mejor  que  pndo       lucido  y  pallardo."    He  via,  ap.  Hita,  Guerras 
toda  la  cabal  leria,  y  era  cosa  digua  de  ver  la       de  Granada,  loc  cit. 
elegancia  y  hermosura  de   un  ejercito  tan 


CRUEL  MASSACRE.  -     583 

anl  arrows.  One  after  another,  most  of  them  were  stormed  and  fired  by  the 
Spaniards,  and  those  within  were  put  to  the  sword  or  perished  in  the  flames. 

It  fared  no  better  with  the  defenders  of  the  barricades.  Galled  by  the 
volleys  of  the  Christians,  against  whom  their  own  rude  missiles  did  compara- 
tively little  execution,  they  were  driven  from  one  position  to  another ;  as  each 
redoubt  was  successively  carried,  a  shout  of  triumph  went  up  from  the  victors, 
Avhich  fell  cheerily  on  the  ears  of  their  countrymen  on  the  heights  ;  and  when 
Padilla  and  his  veterans  burst  on  the  scene  of  action,  it  decided  the  fortunes 
of  the  day. 

There  was  still  a  detachment  of  Turks  whose  ammunition  had  not  been 
exhausted,  and  who  were  maintaining  a  desperate  struggle  with  a  body  of 
Spanish  infantry,  in  which  the  latter  had  been  driven  back  to  the  very  verge 
of  the  precipice.  But  the  appearance  of  their  friends  under  Padilla  gave  the 
Spaniards  new  heart ;  and  Turk  and  Morisco,  overwhelmed  alike  by  the  supe- 
riority of  the  numbers  and  of  the  weapons  of  their  antagonists,  gave  way  in 
all  directions.  Some  tied  down  the  long  avenues  which  led  from  the  summit 
of  the  rock.  They  were  hotly  pursued  by  the  Spaniards.  Others  threw 
themselves  into  the  houses  and  prepared  to  make  a  last  defence.  The  Span- 
iards scrambled  along  the  terraces,  letting  themselves  down  from  one  level  to 
another  by  means  of  the  Moorish  ladders  used  for  that  purpose.  They  hewed 
openings  in  the  wooden  roofs  of  the  buildings,  througn  which  they  fired  on 
those  within.  The  helpless  Moriscoes,  driven  out  by  the  pitiless  volleys, 
sought  refuge  in  the  street.  But  the  fierce  hunters  were  there,  waiting  for 
their  miserable  game,  which  they  shot  down  without  mercy, — men,  women, 
and  children  ;  none  were  spared.  Yet  they  did  not  fall  unavenged  ;  and  the 
corpse  of  many  a  Spaniard  might  be  seen  stretched  on  the  bloody  pavement, 
lying  side  by  side  with  that  of  his  Moslem  enemy. 

More  than  one  instance  is  recorded  of  the  desperate  courage  to  which  the 
women  as  well  as  the  men  were  roused  in  their  extremity.  A  Morisco  girl, 
whose  father  had  perished  in  the  first  assault  in  the  Gardens,  after  firing  her 
dwelling,  is  said  to  have  dragged  her  two  little  brothers  along  with  one  hand, 
and,  wielding  a  scimitar  with  the  other,  to  have  rushed  against  the  foe,  by 
whom  they  were  all  speedily  cut  to  pieces.  Another  instance  is  told,  of  a  man 
who,  after  killing  his  wife  and  his  two  daughters,  sallied  forth,  and,  calling 
out,  "  There  is  nothing  more  to  lose ;  let  us  die  together  ! "  threw  himself 
madly  into  the  thick  of  the  enemy.21  Some  fell  by  their  own  weapons,  others 
by  those  of  their  friends,  preferring  to  receive  death  from  any  hands  but  those 
of  the  Spaniards. 

Some  two  thousand  Moriscoes  were  huddled  together  in  a  square  not  far 
from  the  gate,  where  a  strong  body  of  Castilian  infantry  cut  off  the  means  of 
escape.  Spent  with  toil  and  loss  of  blood,  without  ammunition,  without  arms, 
or  with  such  only  as  were  too  much  battered  or  broken  for  service,  the  wretched 
fugitives  would  gladly  have  made  some  terms  with  their  pursuers,  who  now 
closed  darkly  around  them.  But  the  stag  at  bay  might  as  easily  have  made 
terms  with  his  hunters  and  the  fierce  hounds  that  were  already  on  his  haunches. 
Their  prayers  were  answered  by  volley  after  volley,  until  not  a  man  was  left 
alive. 

More  than  four  hundred  women  and  children  were  gathered  together  without 
the  walls,  and  the  soldiers,  mindful  of  the  value  of  such  a  booty,  were  willing 
to  spare  their  lives.  This  was  remarked  by  Don  John,  and  no  sooner  did  he 
observe  the  symptoms  of  lenity  in  the  troops  than  the  flinty-hearted  chief 
rebuked  their  remissness  and  sternly  reminded  them  of  the  orders  of  the  day. 

"  These  anecdotes  are  given  by  Uevia,  ap.  fflta,  Querras  dc  Granada,  torn.  ii.  pp.  449-451. 


584  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

He  even  sent  the  halberdiers  of  his  guard  and  the  cavaliers  about  his  person  to 
assist  the  soldiers  in  their  bloody  work ;  while  he  sat,  a  calm  spectator,  on  his 
horse,  as  immovable  as  a  marble  statue,  and  as  insensible  to  the  agonizing 
screams  of  his  victims  and  their  heart-breaking  prayers  for  mercy.2* 

While  this  was  going  on  without  the  town,  the  work  of  death  was  no  less 
active  within.  Every  square  and  enclosure  that  had  afforded  a  temporary 
refuge  to  the  fugitives  was  heaped  with  the  bodies  of  the  slain.  Blood  ran 
down  the  kennels  like  water  after  a  heavy  shower.  The  dwellings  were  fired, 
some  by  the  conquerors,  others  by  the  inmates,  who  threw  themselves  madly 
into  the  flames  rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  their  enemies.  The  gather- 
ing shadows  of  evening — for  the  fight  had  lasted  nearly  nine  hours 2J — were 
dispelled  by  the  light  of  the  conflagration,  which  threw  an  ominous  glare  for 
many  a  league  over  the  country,  proclaiming  far  and  wide  the  downfall  of 
Galera. 

At  length  Don  John  was  so  far  moved  from  his  original  purpose  as  to  con- 
sent that  the  women,  and  the  children  under  twelve  years  of  age,  should  be 
spared.  This  he  did,  not  from  any  feeling  of  compunction,  but  from  deference 
to  the  murmurs  of  his  followers,  whose  discontent  at  seeing  their  customary 
booty  snatched  from  them  began  to  show  itself  in  a  way  not  to  be  disre- 
garded.*4 Some  fifteen  hundred  women  and  children,  in  consequence  of  this, 
are  said  to  have  escaped  the  general  doom  of  their  countrymen.2*  All  the 
rest,  soldiers  and  citizens,  Turks,  Africans,  and  Moriscoes,  were  mercilessly 
butchered.  Not  one  man,  if  we  may  trust  the  Spaniards  themselves,  escaped 
alive  !  It  would  not  be  easy,  even  in  that  age  of  blood,  to  find  a  parallel  to  so 
wholesale  and  indiscriminate  a  massacre. 

Yet,  to  borrow  the  words  of  the  Castilian  proverb,  "  If  Africa  had  cause  to 
weep,  Spain  had  little  reason  to  rejoice.'"' 28  No  success  during  the  war  was 
purchased  at  so  high  a  price  as  the  capture  of  Galera.  The  loss  fell  as  heavily 
on  the  officers  and  men  of  rank  as  on  the  common  file.  We  have  seen  the 
eagerness  with  which  they  had  flocked  to  the  standard  of  John  of  Austria. 
They  showed  the  same  eagerness  to  distinguish  themselves  under  the  eye  of 
their  leader.  The  Spanish  chivalry  were  sure  to  be  found  in  the  post  of 
danger.  Dearly  did  they  pay  for  that  pre-eminence ;  and  many  a  noble 
house  in  Spain  wept  bitter  tears  when  the  tidings  came  of  the  conquest  of 
Galera.2' 

Don  John  himself  was  so  much  exasperated,  says  the  chronicler,  by  the 
thought  of  the  grievous  loss  which  he  had  sustained  through  the  obstinate 

*•  "  Los  quales  mataron  mas  de  quatrocien-  muerto  todos  sin  quedar  uno  en  este  dia,  y  en 

tas  mugeres  y  nines  .  .  .  y  an>i  hizo  matar  los  asaltos  pasados."     Hevia,  ap.  Hita,  Guer- 

muchos  en  su  presencia  a  los  alabarderos  de  ras  de  (jranada,  torn.  ii.   p.   448.     Marmol, 

su  guardla."     Marmol,  Kebeliou  de  Granada,  while  he  admits  that  not  a  man  was  spared, 

torn.  ii.  p.  248.  estimates  the  number  of  women  and  children 

M  "Duro  el  combate,  despnes  de  entrado  el  saved  at  three  times  that  given  in  the  test. 
lugar,  desde  las  echo  de  la  inanana  hasta  las  "  "  Si  Africa  llora,  Esp.'fia  no  rie." 

cinco  de  la  tarde."    Hcvia,  ap.  Hita,  Guerras  "  For  the  account  of  the  final  assault,  as 

de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  448.  told  by  the  various  writers,   with  sufficient 

-'  "  Y  no  paruran  hasta  acabarlas  a  todas,  inconsistency  in  the  details,  compare  Marino), 

si  las  quejas  de  los  soldados,  &  quien  se  qui-  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  pp.  244-219, — 

taba  el  prernio  de  la  vitoria,  no  le  movieran;  Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  pp.  266-268, — 

mas  esto  fue  quando  se  entendi6  que  la  villa  Vanderhammen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol. 

estaba  ya  por  nosotros,  y  no  quiso  que  se  per-  114,  115,— Hevia,  ap.  Hita,  Guerras  de  Gra- 

donase  &  varon  que  pasase  de  doce  ufios."  nada,  torn.  ii.  p.  429,  etseq., — Cabrera,  Filipe 

Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  248.  Segundo,  pp.  630,  e:n, — Bleda,  Cronica,  p. 

"»  "Se  cautlvaron  hasta  otras  mil  y  quini-  734, — Kerreras,  Hist.  d'Espagne,  torn',  x.  pp. 

cntas  persona*  'de  mugeres  y  nifios,  porque  4  143,  144. 
hombre  ninguno  se  tomo  con  vida,  babiendo 


GALERA  DEMOLISHED.  585 

resistance  of  the  heretics,28  that  he  resolved  to  carry  at  once  into  effect  his 
menace  of  demolishing  the  town,  so  that  not  one  stone  should  be  left  on 
another.  Every  house  was  accordingly  burnt  or  levelled  to  the  ground,  which 
was  then  strewed  with  salt,  as  an  accursed  spot,  on  which  no  man  was  to 
build  thereafter.  A  royal  decree  to  that  effect  was  soon  afterwards  published ; 
and  the  village  of  straggling  houses,  which,  undefended  by  a  wall,  still  clusters 
round  the  base  of  the  hall,  in  the  Gardens  occupied  by  Padilla,  is  all  that  now 
serves  to  remind  the  traveller  of  the  once  flourishing  and  strongly  fortified  city 
of  Galena. 

In  the  work  of  demolition  Don  John  was  somewhat  retarded  by  a  furious 
tempest  of  sleet  and  rain,  which  set  in  the  day  after  the  place  was  taken.  It 
was  no  uncommon  thing  at  that  season  of  the  year.  Had  it  come  on  a  few 
days  earlier,  the  mountain-torrents  would  infallibly  have  broken  up  the  camp 
of  the  besiegers  and  compelled  them  to  suspend  operations.  That  the  storm 
was  so  long  delayed  was  regarded  by  the  Spaniards  as  a  special  interposition 
of  Heaven. 

The  booty  was  great  which  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victors  ;  for  Galera, 
from  its  great  strength,  had  been  selected  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  neigh- 
bouring country  as  a  safe  place  of  deposit  for  their  effects, — especially  their 
more  valuable  treasures  of  gold,  pearls,  jewels,  and  precious  stuffs.  Besides 
these  there  was  a  great  quantity  of  wheat,  barley,  and  other  grain  stored  in 
the  magazines,  which  afforded  a  seasonable  supply  to  the  army. 

No  sooner  was  Don  John  master  of  Galera  than  he  sent  tidings  of  his  suc- 
cess to  his  brother.  The  kin»  was  at  that  time  paying  his  devotions  at  the 
shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe.  The  tidings  were  received  with  exultation 
by  the  court, — by  Philip  with  the  stolid  composure  with  which  he  usually 
received  accounts  either  of  the  success  or  the  discomfiture  of  his  arms.  He 
would  allow  no  public  rejoicings  of  any  kind.  The  only  way  in  which  he  testi- 
fied his  satisfaction  was  by  ottering  up  thanks  to  God  and  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
"  to  whom,"  says  the  chronicler,  "he  thought  the  cause  should  be  especially 
commended,  as  one  in  which  more  glory  was  to  be  derived  from  peace  than 
from  a  bloody  victory." 2"  With  such  humane  and  rational  sentiments,  it  is 
marvellous  that  he  did  not  communicate  them  to  his  brother,  and  thus  spare 
the  atrocious  massacre  of  his  Morisco  vassals  at  Galera. 

But,  however  revolting  this  massacre  may  appear  in  pur  eyes,  it  seemed  to 
have  left  no  stain  on  the  reputation  of  John  of  Austria  in  the  eyes  of  his  con- 
temporaries. In  reviewing  this  campaign,  we  cannot  too  often  call  to  mind 
that  it  was  regarded  not  so  much  as  a  war  with  rebellious  vassals  as  a  war  with 
the  enemies  of  the  Faith.  It  was  the  last  link  in  that  long  chain  of  hostilities 
which  the  Spaniard  for  so  many  centuries  had  been  waging  for  the  recovery  of 
his  soil  from  the  infidel.  The  sympathies  of  Christendom  were  not  the  less  on 
his  side  that  now,  when  the  trumpet  of  the  crusader  had  ceased  to  send  forth 
its  notes  in  other  lands,  they  should  still  lie  heard  among  the  hills  of  Granada. 
The  Moriscoes  were  everywhere  regarded  as  infidels  and  apostates  ;  and  there 
were  few  Christian  nations  whose  codes  would  not  at  that  day  have  punished 
infidelity  and  apostasy  with  death.  It  was  no  harder  for  them  that  they 
should  be  exterminated  by  the  sword  than  by  the  fagot.  So  far  from  the 
massacre  of  the  Moriscoes  tarnishing  the  reputation  of  their  conqueror,  it 

••  "  Tanto  le  creel*  U  Ira,  penaando  en  el  Bey  aquel  negncio.  por  Ber  de  calidad.  quc-  de- 

dafto  qtie  aquelloa  heregt  •  habian   beclio."  ieaba  mas  gloria  de  la  ooncordla  v  |.a/.,  que  de 

Marmol.  Kehelion  de  Grannda.  torn.  ti.  p.  248.  U  vitorla  oangrienta."    ilaruioi,  Kebeliuu  de 

*•  ••  s.,io  dar  gratia*  ti  Di<«  y  &  la  giori.  sa  GrauaUa,  tow.  11.  p.  249. 
vlrgen  Maria,  encuniemlaiiUulcs  el  CatUulico 


586  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 


splendid  career,  that  would  place  his  name  among  those  of  the  great  paladins 
of  the  nation.  In  Rome  he  was  hailed  as  the  champion  of  Christendom ; 
and  it  was  determined  to  offer  him  the  baton  of  generalissimo  of  the  for- 
midable league  which  the  pope  was  at  this  time  organizing  against  the  Ottoman 
Empire.30 


CHAPTER  VIII 

REBELLION  OP  THE   MORISOOES. 

Disaster  at  Seron — Death  of  Quixttda — Rapid  Successes  of  Don  John— Submission  of  the 
Moriscoes — Fate  of  El  Habaqui — Stern  Temper  of  Aben-Aboo— Henewal  of  the  War — 
Expulsion  of  the  Moors — Dou  John  returns  to  Madrid — Murder  of  Abeu-Aboo — Fortunes 
of  the  Moriscoes. 

1570-1571. 

DON  JOHN  was  detained  some  days  before  Qalera  by  the  condition  of  the 
roads,  which  the  storm  had  rendered  impassable  for  heavy  waggons  and 
artillery.  When  the  weather  improved,  he  began  his  march,  moving  south  in 
the  direction  of  Baza.  Passing  through  that  ancient  town,  the  scene  of  one 
of  the  most  glorious  triumphs  of  the  good  Queen  Isabella  the  Catholic,  he 
halted  at  Caniles.  Here  he  left  the  main  body  of  his  army,  and,  putting 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  detachment  of  three  thousand  foot  and  two  hundred 
horse,  hastened  forward  to  reconnoitre  Seron,  which  he  purposed  next  to 
attack. 

Seron  was  a  town  of  some  strength,  situated  on  the  slope  of  the  sierra,  and 
defended  by  a  castle  held  by  a  Morisco  garrison.  On  his  approach,  most  of 
the  inhabitants,  and  many  of  the  soldiers,  evacuated  the  place  and  sought  refuge 
among  the  mountains.  JDon  John  formed  his  force  into  two  divisions,  one  of 
which  he  placed  under  Quixada,  the  other  under  Requesens.  He  took  up  a 
position  himself,  with  a  few  cavaliers  and  a  small  body  of  arquebusiers,  on  a 
neighbouring  eminence,  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  whole  ground. 

The  two  captains  were  directed  to  reconnoitre  the  environs  by  making  a 
circuit  from  opposite  sides  of  the  town.  Quixada,  as  he  pressed  forward  with 
his  column,  drove  the  Morisco  fugitives  before  him  until  they  vanished  in  the 
recesses  of  the  mountains.  In  the  mean  time  the  beacon-fires,  which  for 
some  hours  had  been  blazing  from  the  topmost  peaks  of  the  sierra,  had  spread 
intelligence  far  and  wide  of  the  coming  of  the  enemy.  The  whole  country 
was  in  arms  ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  native  warriors,  mustering  to  the 
number  of  six  thousand,  under  the  Morisco  chief  El  Habaqui,  who  held  com- 
mand in  that  quarter,  came  pouring  through  the  defiles  of  the  mountains 
and  fell  with  fury  on  the  front  and  flank  of  the  astonished  Spaniards.  The 
assailants  were  soon  joined  by  the  fugitives  from  Seron  ;  and  the  Christians, 
unable  to  withstand  this  accumulated  force,  gave  way,  though  slowly  and  in 
good  order,  before  the  enemy. 

Meanwhile,  a  detachment  of  Spanish  infantry,  under  command  of  Lope  de 
Figueroa,  maestro  del  camvo,  had  broken  into  the  town,  where  they  were 

10  "  Cela  faict,  par  sa  renommee  qui  voloit  fldelles,  11  fut  faict  general  de  la  sainete  ligue." 
par  le  uiunde,  tant  des  chresiiena  que  des  in-  Brantome,  (Euvres,  torn.  i.  p.  326. 


DISASTER  AT  SERON.  587 

busily  occupied  in  plundering  the  deserted  houses.  This  was  a  part  of  the 
military  profession  which  the  rude  levies  of  Andalusia  well  understood.  While 
they  were  thus  occupied,  the  advancing  Moriscoes,  burning  for  revenge,  burst 
into  the  streets  of  the  town,  and,  shouting  their  horrid  war-cries,  set  furiously 
on  the  marauders.  The  Spaniards,  taken  by  surprise  and  encumbered  with 
their  booty,  ottered  little  resistance.  They  were  seized  with  a  panic,  and  tied 
in  all  directions.  They  were  soon  mingled  with  their  retreating  comrades 
under  Quixada,  everywhere  communicating  their  own  terror,  till  the  confusion 
became  general.  It  was  in  vain  that  Quixada  and  Figueroa,  with  the  other 
captains,  endeavoured  to  restore  order.  The  panic-stricken  soldiers  heard 
nothing,  saw  nothing,  but  the  enemy. 

At  this  crisis  Don  John,  who  from  his  elevated  post  had  watched  the 
impending  ruin,  called  his  handful  of  brave  followers  around  him,  and  at  once 
threw  himself  into  the  midst  of  the  tumult.  "  What  means  this,  Spaniards '{ " 
he  exclaimed.  "  From  whom  are  you  flying  ?  Where  is  the  honour  of  Spain  ? 
Have  you  not  John  of  Austria,  your  commander,  with  you  1  At  least,  if  you 
retreat,  do  it  like  brave  men,  with  your  front  to  the  enemy."  *  It  was  in  vain. 
His  entreaties,  his  menaces,  even  his  blows,  which  he  dealt  with  the  flat  of 
his  sabre,  were  ineffectual  to  rouse  anything  like  a  feeling  of  shame  in  the 
cowardly  troops.  The  efforts  of  his  captains  were  equally  fruitless,  though  in 
making  them  they  exposed  their  lives  with  a  recklessness  which  cost  some  of 
them  dear.  Figueroa  was  disabled  by  a  wound  in  the  leg.  Quixada  was  hit 
by  a  musket-ball  on  the  left  shoulder,  and  struck  from  his  saddle.  Don  John, 
who  was  near,  sprang  to  his  assistance  and  placed  him  in  the  hands  of  some 
troopers,  with  directions  to  bear  him  at  once  to  Caniles.  In  doing  this  the 
young  commander  himself  had  a  narrow  escape ;  for  he  was  struck  on  his 
helmet  by  a  ball,  which,  however,  fortunately  glanced  off  without  doing  him 
injury.*  He  was  now  hurried  along  by  the  tide  of  fugitives,  who  made  no 
attempt  to  rally  for  the  distance  of  half  a  league,  when  the  enemy  ceased  his 
pursuit.  Six  hundred  Spaniards  were  left  dead  on  the  field.  A  great  number 
threw  themselves  into  the  houses,  prepared  to  make  good  their  defence.  But 
they  were  speedily  enveloped  by  the  Moriscoes,  the  houses  were  stormed  or 
set  on  fire,  and  the  inmates  perished  to  a  man.* 

Don  John,  in  a  letter  dated  the  nineteenth  of  February,  two  days  after  this 
disgraceful  affair,  gave  an  account  of  it  to  the  king,  declaring  that  the  dastardly 
conduct  of  the  troops  exceeded  anything  he  had  ever  witnessed,  or  indeed 
could  have  believed,  had  he  not  seen  it  with  his  own  eyes.  "  They  have  so 
little  heart  in  the  service,"  he  adds,  "  that  no  effort  that  I  can  make,  not  even 
the  fear  of  the  galleys  or  the  gibbet,  can  prevent  them  from  deserting.  Would 
to  Heaven  I  could  think  that  they  are  moved  to  this  by  the  desire  to  return 
to  their  families,  and  not  by  fear  of  the  enemy  ! "  *  He  gave  the  particulars 

'  "Que  es  eato,  Espafioles?  tie  que  huls?  Febrero,    1570,    MS. — Marmol,   Rebclion    do 

drtnde  estii  la  honra  de  KsjuiYi  ••    No  tenets  Granada,  tom.  ii.  p.  253,  et  seq.— Mcndnza, 

delante  u  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  vucstro  capi-  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  273. —  Villafane.  Vidu 

tan?    de  qae  temeift?     Ketiraos  con   orden  de    Magdalena  de    Ulloa. — Vauderuauimcn, 

como  Imnihrtti  dc  gucrra  con  el  roatru  al  cue-  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  1 16,  1 17. 

migo."     Mariuul,  Uebelion  de  Granada,  toui.  '  "Confonne  <i  eato  entcuderii  V.  M.  lapoca 

U.  p.  257.  coxtiuicia  y  atirion  que  tienvn  ii  la  guerra, 

*  "  Acudlcndo  4  todaa  la*  necesidades  con  estott  que  U  dcjan  al  mcjor  ticnipo  gin  poder- 
pellgro  de  BU  persona,  porque  le  dirron   un  lea  reprimir  galerao,  ni  norca  ni  cuanUa  ilili- 
mropetazo  en  la  cubeza  sobrv  unacelada  lu'-rte  gencias  se  hacen.    Y  plega  u  Dios  que  el  anior 
qae  llevaba,  que  a  no  Her  tan  bui-ria,  le  ma-  dc   Ion   IHJI.I  y  parlentes  sea  la  causa  y  no 
Liran."     M  annul,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  mic<to  de  lot*  eneiuigne."    Carta  de  D.  Juan  de 
U.  p  258.  A  u  -urn  al  Kt-v,  19  Oe  Febrero,  1570,  Mb. 

•  Carta  de  D.  Juan  de  Austria  al  Key,  19  de 


588  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

of  Quixada's  accident,  stating  that  the  surgeons  had  made  six  incisions  before 
they  could  ascertain  where  the  ball,  which  had  penetrated  the  shoulder,  was 
lodged,  and  that,  with  all  their  efforts,  they  had  as  yet  been  unable  to  extract 
it.  "  I  now  deeply  feel."  he  says,  "  how  much  I  Have  been  indebted  to  his 
military  experience,  his  diligence  and  care,  and  how  important  his  preservation 
is  to  the  service  of  your  majesty.  I  trust  in  God  he  may  be  permitted  to 
regain  his  health,  which  is  now  in  a  critical  condition."* 

In  his  reply  to  this  letter,  the  king  expressed  his  sense  of  the  great  loss 
which  both  he  and  his  brother  would  sustain  by  the  death  of  Quixada.  "  You 
will  keep  me  constantly  advised  of  the  state  of  his  health,"  he  says.  "  I  know 
well  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  impress  upon  you  the  necessity  of  watching 
carefully  over  him."  Philip  did  not  let  the  occasion  pass  for  administering  a 
gentle  rebuke  to  Don  John  for  so  lightly  holding  the  promise  he  had  made  to 
him  from  Galera,  not  again  to  expose  himself  heedlessly  to  danger.  "  When 
I  think  of  your  narrow  escape  at  Seron,  I  cannot  express  the  pain  I  have  felt 
at  your  rashly  incurring  such  a  risk.  In  war,  every  one  should  confine  him- 
self to  the  duties  of  his  own  station  ;  nor  should  the  general  affect  to  play  the 
part  of  the  soldier,  any  more  than  the  soldier  that  of  the  general"  • 

It  seems  to  have  been  a  common  opinion  that  Don  John  was  more  fond  of 
displaying  his  personal  prowess  than  became  one  of  his  high  rank ;  in  short, 
that  he  showed  more  the  qualities  of  a  knight-errant  than  those  of  a  great 
commander.7 

Meanwhile,  Quixada's  wound,  which  from  the  first  had  been  attended  with 
alarming  symptoms,  grew  so  much  worse  as  to  baffle  all  the  skill  of  the 
surgeons.  His  sufferings  were  great,  and  every  hour  he  grew  weaker.  Before 
a  week  had  elapsed,  it  became  evident  that  his  days  were  numbered. 

The  good  knight  received  the  intelligence  with  composure, — for  he  did  not 
fear  death.  He  had  not  the  happiness  in  this  solemn  hour  to  have  her  near 
him  on  whose  conjugal  love  and  tenderness  he  had  reposed  for  so  many  years.8 
But  the  person  whom  he  cherished  next  to  his  wife,  Don  John  of  Austria,  was 
by  his  bed-side,  watching  over  him  with  the  affectionate  solicitude  of  a  son, 
and  ministering  those  kind  offices  which  soften  the  bitterness  of  death.  The 
dying  man  retained  his  faculties  to  the  last,  and  dictated,  though  he  had  not 
the  strength  to  sign,  a  letter  to  the  king,  requesting  some  favour  for  his  widow 
in  consideration  of  his  long  services.  He  then  gave  himself  up  wholly  to  his 
spiritual  concerns ;  and  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  February,  1570,  he  gently 
expired,  in  the  arms  of  his  foster-son. 

Quixada  received  a  soldier's  funeral    His  obsequies  were  celebrated  with 

5  Carta  de  D.  Juan  de  Austiia  al  Rey,  19  de  guardian  is  gone,  there  is  no  other  wl«  can 

Febrero,  1570,  MS.  take   this    liberty.    Curta   de    I).    Juan    de 

•  "  Que  c..da  uno  ha  de  hacer  su  oficio  y  no  Austria  a.  Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva,  MS. 
el   general  de  Boldado,  nl   el  soldado  el  de  "  According  to  Villalafie,  Dofta  Mapdalena 

general."  Carta  del  Key  u.  D.  Juan  de  Austria,  left  Madrid  on  learning  her  husband's  illness, 

24  de  Febrero,  1570.  MS.  and  travelled  with   such  despatch  that  she 

'  One  evidence  of  this  is  afforded  by  the  arrived  in  time  to  receive  his  last  sighs.    Hita 

frankness  of  his  friend  Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva.  also  speaks  of  her  presence  at  his  bedside. 

"  La  primera,"  he  writes  to  Don  John,  "  qua  But,  as  seven  days  only  elapsed  between  the 

por  cuanto  V.  Ex.*  e.stareputadodeatrevidoy  date  of  the  knight's  wound  and  that  of  his 

de  hombre  que  quiere  mas  ganar  credito  de  death,  one  fin>lsit  difficult  to  believe  that  this 

soldado  que  de  general,  que  mude  este  e«ttlo  could  have  allowed  time  for  the  courier  who 

y  se  deje  gol>ernar."    (Carta  de  4  de  Marzo,  brought  the  tidings,  and  for  the  lady  after- 

1670,  MS.)    It  is  to  Don  John's  credit  that,  in  wards,  whether  in  the  saddle  or  litter,  to  have 

his  reply,  he  thanks  Ruy  Gomez  warmly  for  travelled  a  distance  of  over  four  hundred  and 

his  admonition,  and  begs  his  monitor  to  re-  fifty  miles,  along  execrable  roads,  with  much 

prove  him  without  hesitation  whenever  he  of  the  way  lying  through  the  wild  passes  of 

deems   it   necessary,    since,    now   that   his  the  Alpujarras. 


DEATH  OF  QUIXADA,  5£9 

the  military  pomp  suited  to  his  station.  His  remains,  accompanied  by  the 
whole  army,  with  anus  reversed  and  banners  trailing  in  the  dust,  were  borne 
in  solemn  procession  to  the  church  of  the  Jeronymites  in  Caniles  ;  and  "  we 
may  piously  trust,"  says  the  chronicler,  "  that  the  soul  of  Don  Luis  rose  up  to 
heaven  with  the  sweet  incense  which  burned  on  the  altars  of  St.  Jerome ;  for 
he  spent  his  life,  and  finally  lost  it,  in  fighting  like  a  valiant  soldier  the  battles 
of  the  faith."9 

Quixada  was  austere  in  his  manners,  and  a  martinet  in  enforcing  discipline. 
He  was  loyal  in  his  nature,  of  spotless  integrity,  and  possessed  so  many  gene- 
rous and  knightly  qualities  that  he  commanded  the  respect  of  his  comrades  ; 
and  the  regret  for  his  loss  was  universal.  Philip,  writing  to  Don  John,  a  few 
days  after  the  event,  remarks, "  I  did  not  think  that  any  letter  from  you  could 
have  given  me  so  much  pain  as  that  acquainting  me  with  the  death  of  Quixada. 
I  fully  comprehend  the  importance  of  nis  loss  both  to  myself  and  to  you,  and 
cannot  wonder  you  should  feel  it  so  keenly.  It  is  impossible  to  allude  to  it 
without  sorrow.  Yet  we  may  be  consoled  by  the  reflection  that,  living  and 
dying  as  he  did,  he  cannot  fail  to  have  exchanged  this  world  for  a  better."  I0 

Quixada's  remains  were  removed,  the  year  following,  to  his  estate  at  Vilia- 
garcia,  where  his  disconsolate  widow  continued  to  reside.  Immediately  after 
her  lord's  decease,  Don  John  wrote  to  Dona  Magdalena,  from  the  camp,  a 
letter  of  affectionate  condolence,  which  came  from  the  fulness  of  his  heart : 
"  Luis  died  as  became  him,  fighting  for  the  glory  and  safety  of  his  son,  and 
covered  with  immortal  honour.  Whatever  I  am,  whatever  I  shall  lie,  I  owe  to 
him  by  whom  I  was  formed,  or  rather  begotten  in  a  nobler  birth.  Dear 
sorrowing  widowed  mother  !  I  only  am  left  to  you  ;  and  to  you  indeed  do  I  of 
right  belong,  for  whose  sake  Luis  died  and  you  have  been  stricken  with  this 
woe.  Moderate  your  grief  with  your  wonted  wisdom.  Would  that  I  were  near 
you  now,  to  dry  your  tears,  or  mingle  mine  with  them  !  Farewell,  dearest  and 
most  honoured  mother !  and  pray  to  God  to  send  back  your  son  from  these 
wars  to  your  bosom."  " 

Dona  Magdalena  survived  her  husband  many  years,  employing  her  time  in 
acts  of  charity  and  devotion.  From  Don  John  she  ever  experienced  the  same 
filial  tenderness  which  he  evinces  in  the  letter  above  quoted.  Never  did  he 
leave  the  country  or  return  to  it  without  first  paying  his  respects  to  his  mother, 
as  he  always  called  her.  She  watched  with  maternal  pride  his  brilliant  career ; 
and  when  that  was  closed  by  an  early  death,  the  last  link  which  had  bound 
her  to  this  world  was  snapped  for  ever.  Yet  she  continued  to  live  on  till  near 
the  close  of  the  century,  dying  in  1598,  and  leaving  behind  her  a  reputation 
for  goodness  and  piety  little  less  than  that  of  a  saint. 

Don  John,  having  paid  the  last  tribute  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  his 
guardian,  collected  his  whole  strength  and  marched  at  once  against  Sernn. 
But  the  enemy,  shrinking  from  an  encounter  with  so  formidable  a  force,  had 
abandoned  the  place  before  the  approach  of  the  Spaniards.  The  Spanish  com- 
mander soon  after  encountered  El  Ilabaqui  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  defeated 
him.  He  then  marched  on  Tijola,  a  town  perched  on  a  bold  clitf,  which  a 
resolute  garrison  might  have  easily  held  against  an  enemy.  But  the  Moris- 

•  "CreemoH  plado-amente  que  el  alma  do  "  Carta  del  Key  a  D.  Joan  de  Austria,  3de 

P.  LuU  subirta  al  clelo  con  el  oloroaoincienso  Marzo,  1570,  MS. 

que  si-  quemo  en  IDA  alUrea  de  8.  Ueronimo,  "  The  letter  is  translated  by  Stirling  from 

porque  Biempre  babla  euipleado  la  vida  rn  a  manuscript,  entitled    "Joannia   Austriaci 

pelear  contra  enemigoa  de  nuestra  santa  fe,  y  Vita,  auctore  Ant»nio  Oworio,"  In  the   Na- 

por  ultimo  ninrio  batallando  con  ellos  como  tional  Library  at  Madrid.    See  Cloister  Lift- of 

Hilit  nio  vaUroao."    Hita,  Guerras  de  Granada,  Charles  the  Kifth  (A  in.  ed.),  P-  286. 
toni.  li.  p.  487. 


590  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

coes,  availing  theniselves  of  the  darkness  of  the  night,  stole  out  of  the  place, 
and  succeeded,  without  much  loss,  in  escaping  through  the  lines  of  the  be- 
siegers.12 The  fall  of  Tijola  "was  followed  by  that  of  Purchena.  In  a  short 
time  the  whole  Rio  de  Almanzora  was  overrun,  and  the  victorious  general, 
crossing  the  south-eastern  borders  of  the  Alpujarras,  established  his  quarters, 
on  the  second  of  May,  at  Padules,  about  two  leagues  from  Andarax. 

These  rapid  successes  are  not  to  be  explained  simply  by  Don  John's  supe- 
riority over  the  enemy  in  strength  or  military  science.  Philip  had  turned  a 
favourable  ear  to  the  pope's  invitation  to  join  the  league  against  the  Turk,  in 
which  he  was  complimented  by  having  the  post  of  commander-in-chief  offered 
to  his  brother,  John  of  Austria.  But  before  engaging  in  a  new  war  it  was 
most  desirable  for  him  to  be  released  from  that  in  which  he  was  involved  with 
the  Moriscoes.  He  had  already  seen  enough  of  the  sturdy  spirit  of  that  race 
to  be  satisfied  that  to  accomplish  his  object  by  force  would  be  a  work  of 
greater  time  than  he  could  well  afford.  The  only  alternative,  therefore,  was 
to  have  recourse  to  the  conciliatory  policy  which  had  been  so  much  condemned 
in  the  marquis  of  Mondejar.  Instructions  to  that  effect  were  accordingly  sent 
to  Don  John,  who,  heartily  weary  of  this  domestic  contest,  and  longing  for  a 
wider  theatre  of  action,  entered  warmly  into  his  brother's  views.  Secret 
negotiations  were  soon  opened  with  El  Habaqui,  the  Morisco  chief,  who 
received  the  offer  of  such  terms  for  himself  and  his  countrymen  as  left  him  in 
no  doubt,  at  least,  as  to  the  side  on  which  his  own  interest  lay.  As  a  prelimi- 
nary step,  he  was  to  withdraw  his  support  from  the  places  in  the  Rio  de 
Almanzora;  and  thus  the  war,  brought  within  the  narrower  range  of  the 
Alpujarras,  might  be  more  easily  disposed  of.  This  part  of  his  agreement  had 
been  faithfully  executed  ;  and  the  rebellious  district  on  the  eastern  borders  of 
the  Alpujarras  had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  brought  into  subjection  with  little 
cost  of  life  to  the  Spaniards. 

Don  John  followed  this  up  by  a  royal  proclamation,  promising  an  entire 
amnesty  for  the  past  to  all  who  within  twenty  days  should  tender  their  sub- 
mission. They  were  to  be  allowed  to  state  the  grievances  which  had  moved 
them  to  take  up  arms,  with  an  assurance  that  these  should  be  redressed.  All 
who  refused  to  profit  by  this  act  of  grace,  with  the  exception  of  the  women, 
and  of  children  under  fourteen  years  of  age,  would  be  put  to  the  sword  with- 
out mercy. 

What  was  the  effect  of  the  proclamation  we  are  not  informed.  It  was 
probably  not  such  as  had  been  anticipated.  The  Moriscoes,  distressed  as  they 
were,  did  not  trust  the  promises  of  the  Spaniards.  At  least  we  find  Don 
John,  who  had  now  received  a  reinforcement  of  two  thousand  men,  distributing 
his  army  into  detachments,  with  orders  to  scour  the  country  and  deal  with  the 
inhabitants  in  a  way  that  should  compel  them  to  submit.  Such  of  the 
wretched  peasantry  as  had  taken  refuge  in  their  fastnesses  were  assailed  with 
shot  and  shell  and  slaughtered  by  hundreds.  Some,  who  had  hidden  with  their 
families  in  the  caves  in  which  the  country  abounded,  were  hunted  out  by  their 
pursuers,  or  suffocated  by  the  smoke  of  burning  fagots  at  the  entrance  of 
their  retreats.  Everywhere  the  land  was  laid  waste,  so  as  to  afford  sustenance 
for  no  living  thing.  Such  were  the  conciliatory  measures  employed  by  the 
government  for  the  reduction  of  the  rebels." 

"  Tfjola  Is  the  scene  of  the  story,  familiar  episode  in'Hita's  second  volume  (pp.  523-540), 

to  every  lover  of  Castilian  romance,  and  better  and  is  translated  with  pathos  and  delicacy  by 

suited  to  romance  than  history,  of  the  Moor  Circourt,  Hist,  des  Arabes  d'Espague,  torn. 

Tnzani   and  his    unfortunate    mistress,    the  iii.  p.  345,  et  seq. 

beautiful  Moleha.    It  forms  a  most  pleasing  13  Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii. 


RAPID  SUCCESSES  OF  DON  JOHN.  591 

Meanwhile,  the  duke  of  Sesa  had  taken  the  field  on  the  northern  border  of 
the  Alpujarras,  with  an  army  of  ten  thousand  foot  and  two  thousand  horse. 
He  was  opposed  by  Aben-Aboo  with  a  force  which  in  point  of  numbers  was 
not  inferior  to  his  own.  The  two  commanders  adopted  the  same  policy  ; 
avoiding  pitched  battles,  and  confining  themselves  to  the  desultory  tactics  of 
guerilla  warfare, — to  skirmishes  and  surprises ;  while  each  endeavoured  to  dis- 
tress his  adversary  by  cutting  off  his  convoys  and  by  wasting  the  territory 
with  fire  and  sword.  The  Morisco  chief  had  an  advantage  in  the  familiarity 
of  his  men  with  this  wild  mountain-fighting,  and  in  their  better  knowledge  of 
the  intricacies  of  the  country.  But  this  was  far  more  than  counterbalanced 
by  the  superiority  of  the  Spaniards  in  military  organization,  and  by  their 
possession  of  cavalry,  artillery,  and  muskets,  in  all  of  which  the  Moslems  were 
lamentably  deficient  Thus,  although  no  great  battle  was  won  by  the  Chris- 
tians, although  they  were  sorely  annoyed,  and  their  convoys  of  provisions 
frequently  cut  off,  by  the  skirmishing-parties  of  the  enemy,  they  continued 
steadily  to  advance,  driving  the  Moriscoes  before  them,  and  securing  the 
permanency  of  their  conquests  by  planting  a  line  of  forts,  well  garrisoned, 
along  the  wasted  territory  in  their  rear.  By  the  beginning  of  May  the  duke 
of  Sesa  had  reached  the  borders  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  soon  after  united 
his  forces,  greatly  diminished  by  desertion,  to  those  of  Don  John  of  Austria  at 
Padules.14 

Negotiations  during  this  time  had  been  resumed  with  El  Habaqui,  who, 
with  the  knowledge,  if  not  the  avowed  sanction  of  Aben-Aboo,  had  come  to  a 
place  called  Fondon  de  Andarax,  not  far  distant  from  the  head-quarters  of  the 
Spanish  commander-in-chiet  He  was  accompanied  by  several  of  the  principal 
Moriscoes,  who  were  to  take  part  in  the  discussions.  On  the  thirteenth  of 
May  they  were  met  by  the  deputies  from  the  Castilian  camp,  and  the  confer- 
ence was  opened.  It  soon  appeared  that  the  demands  of  the  Moriscoes  were 
wholly  inadmissible.  They  insisted  not  only  on  a  general  amnesty,  but  that 
things  should  be  restored  to  the  situation  in  which  they  were  before  the  edicts 
of  Philip  the  Second  had  given  rise  to  the  rebellion.  The  Moorish  commis- 
sioners were  made  to  understand  that  they  were  to  negotiate  only  on  the 
footing  of  a  conquered  race.  They  were  advised  to  prepare  a  memorial  pre- 
ferring such  requests  as  might  be  reasonably  granted  ;  and  they  were  ottered 
the  services  of  Juan  de  Soto,  Don  John's  secretory,  to  aid  them  in  drafting  the 
document.  They  were  counselled,  moreover,  to  see  their  master,  Aben-Aboo, 
and  obtain  full  powers  from  him  to  conclude  a  definitive  treaty. 

Aben-Aboo,  ever  since  his  elevation  to  the  stormy  sovereignty  of  the  Alpu- 
iarras,  had  maintained  his  part  with  a  spirit  worthy  of  his  cause.  But  as  he 
beheld  town  after  town  fall  away  from  his  little  empire,  his  people  butchered 
or  swept  into  slavery,  his  lands  burned  and  wasted,  until  the  fairest  portions 
were  converted  into  a  wilderness, — above  all.  when  he  saw  that  his  cause 
excited  no  sympathy  in  the  bosoms  of  the  Moslem  princes,  on  whose  support 
he  had  mainly  relied, — he  felt  more  and  more  satisfied  of  the  hopelessness  of  a 
contest  with  the  Spanish  monarchy.  HLs  officers,  and  indeed  the  people  at 
large,  had  come  to  the  same  conviction  ;  and  nothing  but  an  intense  hatred  of 

pp.  390-320,  340-346.— Vanderhammon,  Don  so  fortunate  as  to  obtain  from  the  collection  at 

Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  119,  et  seq.— Ferreras,  Hollan-i  House,  be  insist*  on  starvation  as  a 

Hist,  d'fopagne,  torn.  x.  p.  170,  et  neq.  mucb  more  effectual  means  of  reducing  tbe 

14  Mendoza,  Uuerra  de  Granada,  p.  271,  et  enrmy  than  the  sword:  "Esta  gnerra  parcce 

seq. — Marmoi,  Rebellon  de  Granada,  toru.  il.  que  no  puede  acabarse  por  medic  mas  clerto 

pp.  283-289,  :)''3-315.  321,  et  seq.  — In  a  letter  que  el  de  la  hambre  que  necesitanl  it  los  one- 

ttitliuitt  date,  of  the  duke  of  Sesa,  forming  uiigos  a  rrndirse  ft  pereccr,  y  esta  los  acabara 

part  of  a  maa*  of  correspondence  which  1  wan  priiucro  que  el  espada."    MS. 


592  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

the  Spaniards,  and  a  distrust  of  their  good  faith,  had  prevented  the  Moriscoes 
from  throwing  down  their  arms  and  accepting  the  promises  of  grace  which 
had  been  held  out  to  them.  The  disastrous  result  of  the  recent  campaign 
against  the  duke  of  Sesa  tended  still  further  to  the  discouragement  of  the 
Morisco  chief ;  and  El  Hahaqui  and  his  associates  returned  with  authority 
from  their  master  to  arrange  terms  of  accommodation  with  the  Spaniards. 

On  the  nineteenth  of  May  the  commissioners  from  each  side  again  met  at 
Fondon  de  Andarax.  A  memorial  drafted  by  Juan  de  Sotp  was  laid  before 
Don  John,  whose  quarters,  as  we  have  seen,  were  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
bourhood. No  copy  of  the  instrument  has  been  preserved,  or  at  least 
none  has  been  published.  From  the  gracious  answer  returned  by  the  prince, 
we  may  infer  that  it  contained  nothing  deemed  objectionable  by  the  con- 
querors. 

The  deputies  were  not  long  in  agreeing  on  terms  of  accommodation, — or 
rather  of  submission.  It  was  settled  that  the  Morisco  captain  should  proceed 
to  the  Christian  camp,  and  there,  presenting  himself  before  the  commander- 
in-chief,  should  humbly  crave  forgiveness  and  tender  submission  on  behalf  of 
his  nation  ;  that  in  return  for  this  act  of  humiliation  a  general  amnesty  should 
be  granted  to  his  countrymen,  who,  though  they  were  no  longer  to  be  allowed 
to  occupy  the  Alpujarras,  would  be  protected  by  the  government  wherever 
they  might  be  removed.  More  important  concessions  were  made  to  Aben- 
Aboo  and  El  Habaqui.  The  last-mentioned  chief,  as  the  chronicler  tells  us, 
obtained  all  that  he  asked  for  his  master,  as  well  as  for  himself  and  his 
friends.11  Such  politic  concessions  by  the  Spaniards  had  doubtless  their  influ- 
ence in  opening  the  eyes  of  the  Morisco  leaders  to  the  folly  of  protracting  the 
war  in  their  present  desperate  circumstances. 

The  same  evening  on  which  the  arrangement  was  concluded,  El  Habaqui 
proceeded  to  his  interview  with  the  Spanish  commander.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  one  only  of  the  Morisco  deputies.  The  others  declined  to  witness 
the  spectacle  of  their  nation's  humiliation.  He  was  attended,  however,  by  a 
body  of  three  hundred  arquebusiers.  On  entering  the  Christian  lines,  his 
little  company  was  surrounded  by  four  regiments  of  Castilian  infantry  and 
escorted  to  the  presence  of  Jolin  of  Austria,  who  stood  before  his  tent, 
attended  by  his  officers,  from  whom  his  princely  bearing  made  him  easily 
distinguished. 

El  Habaqui,  alighting  from  his  horse  and  prostrating  himself  before  the 
prince,  exclaimed,  "  Mercy  !  We  implore  your  highness,  in  the  name  of  his 
majesty,  to  show  us  mercy,  and  to  pardon  our  transgressions,  which  we 
acknowledge  have  been  great ! "  "  Then  unsheathing  his  scimitar,  he  pre- 
sented it  to  Don  John,  saying  that  he  surrendered  his  arms  to  his  majesty  in 
the  name  of  Aben-Abpo  and  the  rebel  chiefs  for  whom  he  was  empowered  to 
act.  At  the  same  time  the  secretary,  Juan  de  Soto,  who  had  borne  the 
Moorish  banner,  given  him  by  El  Habaqui,  on  the  point  of  his  lance,  cast  it 
on  the  ground  before  the  feet  of  the  prince.  The  whole  scene  made  a  striking 
picture,  in  which  the  proud  conqueror,  standing  with  the  trophies  of  victory 
around  him,  looked  down  on  the  representative  of  the  conquered  race,  as  he 
crouched  in  abject  submission  at  his  feet.  Don  John,  the  predominant  figure 
in  the  tableau,  by  his  stately  demeanour  tempered  with  a  truly  royal  courtesy, 

11  "  Con  estas  cosas  y  otras  particulares  que  '•  "  Misericordia.  Sefior,  miserlcordia  nos 

El  Habaqui  pidio  para  Aben  A  boo,  y  para  los  conceda  vuestra   AHeza  en    nombre    de    su 

ami  go?,  y  para  si  mismo,  que  todas  se  le  con-  Magestatl,  y  perdon  de  nuestrus  culpas,  que 

c  dieron."     Marmol,   Rebclion  de  Granada,  conocemos  haber  sido  graves."    Marmol,  Re- 

tom.  ii.  p.  360.  belion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  361. 


SUBMISSION  OP  THE  MORISCOES.  593 

reminded  the  old  soldiers  of  his  father  the  emperor,  and  they  exclaimed, 
"  This  is  the  true  sou  of  Charles  the  Fifth  ! " 

Stooping  forward,  he  graciously  raised  the  Morisco  chief  from  the  ground, 
and,  returning  him  his  sword,  bade  him  employ  it  henceforth  in  the  service  of 
the  king.  The  ceremony  was  closed  hy  flourishes  of  trumpets  and  salvoes  of 
musketry,  as  if  in  honour  of  some  great  victory. 

El  Habaqui  remained  some  time  after  his  followers  had  left  the  camp,  where 
he  met  with  every  attention,  was  feasted  and  caressed  by  the  principal  officers, 
and  was  even  entertained  at  a  banquet  by  the  bishop  of  Guadix.  He  received, 
however,  as  we  have  seen,  something  more  substantial  than  compliments.  Under 
these  circumstances  it  was  natural  that  he  should  become  an  object  of  jealousy 
and  suspicion  to  the  Moriscoes.  It  was  soon  whispered  that  El  Habaqui,  in  his 
negotiations  with  the  Christians,  had  been  more  mindful  of  his  own  interests 
than  of  those  of  his  countrymen.17 

Indeed,  the  Moriscoes  had  little  reason  to  congratulate  themselves  on  the 
result  of  a  treaty  which  left  them  in  the  same  forlorn  and  degraded  condition 
as  before  the  breaking  out  of  the  rebellion, — which  in  one  important  respect, 
indeed,  left  them  in  a  worse  condition,  since  they  were  henceforth  to  become 
exiles  from  the  homes  of  their  fathers.  Yet,  cruel  and  pitiable  in  the  extreme 
as  was  the  situation  of  the  Moriscoes,  the  Spanish  monks,  as  Don  John  com- 
plains to  his  brother,  inveighed  openly  in  their  pulpits  against  the  benignity 
and  mercy  of  the  king;"  and  this  too,  he  adds,  when  it  should  rather  nave 
been  then-  duty  to  intercede  for  poor  wretches  who  for  the  most  part  had 
sinned  through  ignorance.1'  The  ecclesiastic  on  whom  his  censure  most 
heavily  falls  is  the  President  Deza, — a  man  held  in  such  abhorrence  by  the 
Moriscoes  as  to  have  been  one  principal  cause  of  their  insurrection ;  and  he 
beseeches  the  king  to  consult  the  interests  of  Granada  by  bestowing  on  him  a 
bishopric,  or  some  other  dignity,  which  may  remove  him  from  the  present 
scene  of  his  labours.*0 

Among  those  disappointed  at  the  terms  of  the  treaty,  as  it  soon  appeared, 
•was  Aben-Aboo  himself.  At  first  he  affected  to  sanction  it,  and  promised  to 
do  all  he  could  to  enforce  its  execution.  But  he  soon  cooled,  and,  throwing 
the  blame  on  El  Habaqui,  declared  that  this  officer  had  exceeded  his  powers, 
made  a  false  report  to  him  of  his  negotiations,  and  sacrificed  the  interests  of 
the  nation  to  his  own  ambition.*1  The  attentions  lavished  on  that  chief  by 
the  Spaniards,  his  early  correspondence  with  them,  and  the  liberal  conces- 
sions secured  to  him  by  the  treaty,  furnished  plausible  grounds  for  such  an 
accusation. 

According  to  the  Spanish  accounts,  however,  Aben-Aboo  at  this  time 
received  a  reinforcement  of  two  hundred  soldiers  from  Barbary,  with  the 
assurance  that  he  would  soon  have  more  effectual  aid  from  Africa.  This,  we 

"  The  fullest  account  of  these  proceedings  not  forget  Deza's  eminent  services.    He  be- 

ia  to  be  found  in  Marmol,  Kebeliou  de  Gra-  came  one  of  the  richest  cardinals,  passing  the 

nada,  torn.  il.  pp.  355-362.  remainder  of  his  days  in  Home,  where  he 

"    "  Predicando  en   lo«  pulpltos  pnbltca-  built  a  sumptuous  palace  for  bis  residence." 

merite  contra  la  benignidad  y  clemenci*  quo  (Cronica  de  Kspafia,  p.  753.)     Unfortunately, 

V.   M.   ba  maiidado   usar  con  esta    genie."  this  happy  prelennent  did  not  take  place  till 

Cart*  de  D.  Juan  de  Austria  al   Ki-y,  7  de  some  time  lat«  r, — too  late  for  the  poor  Muris- 

Junlo,  1570,  MS.  coes  to  profit  by  it. 

'*  "Que  los  religiosos  que  habrian  dp  Inter-  "  "Que  el  Habaqui  liald.i  mlrado  mal  por 

ceder  con  V.  M.  por  estos  tnixcralileR,  que  el  blen  comun,  contcntandoae  con  lo  que  soln- 

cierto  la  mayor  pane  ha  pecado  con  ignoran-  niente  Don  Juan  de  Austria  le  habia  querido 

i  i.i,  hagan  «u  esfucrzo  en  reprender  la  cle-  conceder,  y  procurando  el   blen  y  proreclio 

mencia."    Ibid.  tiara  si  y  para  BUS  deudos."     Marmol,    lle- 

•"  "  The  wise  king."  a*  Bleda  tells  us,  "  did  bclion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  390. 

2  Q 


594  REBELLION  OF  THE  MOEISCOES. 

are  told,  changed  his  views.  Nor  is  it  impossible  that  the  Morisco  chief,  as 
the  hour  approached,  found  it  a  more  difficult  matter  than  he  had  anticipated 
to  resign  his  royal  state  and  descend  into  the  common  rank  and  file  of  the 
vassals  of  Castile, — the  degraded  caste  of  Moorish  vassals,  whose  condition 
was  little  above  that  of  serfs. 

However  this  may  be,  the  Spanish  camp  was  much  disquieted  by  the 
rumours  which  came  in  of  Aben-Aboo's  vacillation.  It  was  even  reported 
that,  far  from  endeavouring  to  enforce  the  execution  of  the  treaty,  he  was 
secretly  encouraging  his  people  to  further  resistance.  No  one  felt  more  indig- 
nant at  his  conduct  than  El  Habaqui,  who  had  now  become  as  loyal  a  subject 
as  any  other  in  Philip's  dominions.  Not  a  little  personal  resentment  was 
mingled  with  his  feeling  towards  Aben-Aboo ;  and  he  ottered,  if  Don  John 
would  place  him  at  the  head  of  a  detachment,  to  go  himself,  brave  the  Morisco 
prince  in  his  own  quarters,  and  bring  him  as  a  prisoner  to  the  camp.  Don 
John,  though  putting  entire  confidence  in  El  Habaqui's  fidelity,7*  preferred, 
instead  of  men,  to  give  him  money ;  and  he  placed  eight  hundred  gold 
ducats  in  his  hands,  to  enable  him  to  raise  the  necessary  levies  among  his 
countrymen. 

Thus  fortified,  El  Habaqui  set  out  for  the  head-quarters  of  Aben-Aboo,  at 
his  ancient  residence  in  Mecina  de  Bombaron.  On  the  second  day  the  Morisco 
captain  fell  in  with  a  party  of  his  countrymen  lingering  idly  by  the  way,  and 
he  inquired,  with  an  air  of  authority,  why  they  did  not  go  and  tender  their 
submission  to  the  Spanish  authorities,  as  others  had  done.  They  replied,  they 
were  waiting  for  their  master's  orders.  To  this  El  Habaqui  rejoined,  "  All  are 
bound  to  submit ;  and  if  Aben-Aboo,  on  his  part,  shows  unwillingness  to  do 
so,  I  will  arrest  him  at  once  and  drag  him  at  my  horse's  tail  to  the  Christian 
camp."  M  This  foolish  vaunt  cost  the  braggart  his  life. 

One  of  the  party  instantly  repaired  to  Mecina  and  reported  the  words  to 
Aben-Aboo.  The  Morisco  prince,  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of  having  his 
enemy  in  his  power,  immediately  sent  a  detachment  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
Turks  to  seize  the  offender  and  bring  him  to  Mecina.  They  found  El  Habaqui 
at  Burchal,  where  his  family  were  living.  The  night  had  set  in  when  tne 
chieftain  received  tidings  of  the  approach  of  the  Turks  ;  and  under  cover  of 
the  darkness  he  succeeded  in  making  his  escape  into  the  neighbouring  moun- 
tains. The  ensuing  morning  the  soldiers  followed  closely  on  his  track  ;  and 
it  was  not  long  before  they  descried  a  person  skulking  among  the  rocks,  whose 
white  mantle  and  crimson  turban  proved  him  to  be  the  object  of  their 
pursuit.  He  was  immediately  arrested  and  carried  to  Mecina.  His  sentence 
was  already  passed.  Aben-Aboo,  upbraiding  him  with  his  treachery,  ordered 
him  to  be  removed  to  an  adjoining  room,  where  he  was  soon  after  strangled. 
His  corpse,  denied  the  rites  of  burial,  having  been  first  rolled  in  a  mat  of 
reeds,  was  ignominiously  thrown  into  a  sewer ;  and  the  fate  of  the  unhappy 
man  was  kept  a  secret  for  more  than  a  month.24 

His  absence,  after  some  time,  naturally  excited  suspicions  in  the  Spanish 
camp.  A  cavalier,  known  to  Aben-Aboo,  wrote  to  him  to  obtain  information 
respecting  El  Habaqui,  and  was  told  in  answer,  by  the  wily  prince,  that  he 

"  "  En  lo  que  si  esto  toca,  no  tengo  mas  no  lo  hicieae,  le  llevaria  el  atado  &  la  cola  de 

prcndas  que  la  palabra  del  Habaquf,  el  cual  su  caballo."     Marmol,  Rebelion  de  Granada, 

me  podria  engafiar  ;  pero  certifico  &  V.  M.  que  torn,  ii  p.  392. 

en  su  inanera  de  proceder  me  paresce  hombre  "  "  Lo  hizo  abogar  secretatnente,  y  mand6 

que  tracts  verdad,  y  tal  fama  tiene."    Oarta  echar  el  cuerpo  en  un  muladar  envuelto  en  nu 

de  D.  Juan  de  Austria  al  Rey,  21  de  Mayo,  zarzo  de  caflas,  donde  estuvo  mas  de  treinta 

1570,  MS.  dias  sin  saberse  de  su  muerte."    Marmol,  Re- 

»  «•  Que  quando  Aben  Aboo  de  su  voluntad  belioii  de  Granada,  tom.  ii.  p.  393. 


STERN  TEMPER  OF  ABEN-ABOO.  595 

had  been  arrested  and  placed  in  custody  for  his  treacherous  conduct,  but 
that  his  family  and  friends  need  be  under  no  alarm,  as  he  was  perfectly  safe. 
Aben-Aboo  hinted,  moreover,  that  it  would  be  well  to  send  to  him  some  confi- 
dential person  with  whom  he  might  arrange  the  particulars  of  the  treaty, — 
'as  if  these  had  not  been  already  settled.  After  some  further  delay,  Don 
John  resolved  to  despatch  an  agent  to  ascertain  the  real  dispositions  of  the 
Moriscoes  towards  the  Christians,  and  to  penetrate,  if  possible,  the  mystery 
that  hung  round  the  fate  of  El  HabaquL 

The  envoy  selected  was  Hernan  Valle  de  Palacios,  a  cavalier  possessed  of  a 
courageous  heart,  yet  tempered  by  a  caution  that  well  fitted  him  for  the 
delicate  and  perilous  office.  On  the  thirteenth  of  July  he  set  out  on  his 
mission.  On  the  way  he  encountered  a  Morisco,  a  kinsman  of  the  late 
monarch,  Aben-Humeya,  and  naturally  no  friend  to  Aben-Aboo.  He  was 
acquainted  with  the  particulars  of  El  Habaqui's  murder,  of  which  he  gave  full 
details  to  Palacios.  He  added  that  the  Morisco  prince,  far  from  acquiescing 
in  the  recent  treaty,  was  doing  all  in  his  power  to  prevent  its  execution.  He 
could  readily  muster,  at  short  notice,  said  the  informer,  a  force  of  five  thousand 
men,  well  armed,  and  provisioned  for  three  months  ;  and  he  was  using  all  his 
efforts  to  obtain  further  reinforcements  from  Algiers. 

Instructed  in  these  particulars,  the  envoy  resumed  his  journey.  He  was 
careful,  however,  first  to  obtain  a  safe-conduct  from  Aben-Aboo,  which  was 
promptly  sent  to  him.  On  reaching  Mecina,  he  found  the  place  occupied  by 
a  body  of  five  hundred  arquebusiers  ;  but  by  the  royal  order  he  was  allowed 
to  pass  unmolested.  Before  entering  the  presence  of  "  the  little  king  of  the 
Alpujarras,"  as  Aben-Aboo,  like  his  predecessor,  was  familiarly  styled  by  the 
Spaniards,  Palacios  was  carefully  searched,  and  such  weapons  as  he  carried 
about  him  were  taken  away. 

He  found  Aben-Aboo  stretched  on  a  divan,  and  three  or  four  Moorish  girls 
entertaining  him  with  their  national  songs  and  dances.  He  did  not  rise,  or 
indeed  change  his  position,  at  the  approach  of  the  envoy,  but  gave  him 
audience  with  the  lofty  bearing  of  an  independent  sovereign. 

Palacios  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  touch  on  the  fate  of  El  Habaqui.  After 
expatiating  on  the  liberal  promises  which  he  was  empowered  by  Don  John  of 
Austria  to  make,  he  expressed  the  hope  that  Aben-Aboo  would  execute  the 
treaty,  and  not  rekindle  a  war  which  must  lead  to  the  total  destruction  of 
his  country.  The  chief  listened  in  silence  ;  and  it  was  not  till  he  had  called 
some  of  his  principal  captains  around  him  that  he  condescended  to  reply. 
He  then  said  that  God  and  the  whole  world  knew  it  was  not  by  his  own 


lll(»l      J'iVxiVI       V\S     '  »'  '      <~"  '.  I^lll;       *.V    II         ?'Mli       llltb^Lll,          11C/     C*UUC-XA}  LIIHL,       »t    I1IH.        1      HVVW     C* 

single  shirt  to  my  back,  I  shall  not  follow  their  example.  Tnough  no  other 
man  should  hold  out  in  the  Alpujarras,  I  would  rather  live  and  die  a  Mussul- 
man than  possess  all  the  favours  which  King  Philip  can  heap  on  me.  At  no 
time,  and  in  no  manner,  will  I  ever  consent  to  place  myself  in  his  power."  ** 
He  concluded  this  spirited  declaration  by  adding  that,  if  driven  to  it  by 
necessity,  he  could  bury  himself  in  a  cavern,  which  he  had  stowed  with  supplies 
for  six  years  to  come,  during  which  it  would  go  hard  but  he  would  find  some 
means  of  making  his  way  to  Barbary.  The  desperate  tone  of  these  remarks 

*•  "Que  qoando  no  quedase  otro  si  no  £1  en  hacer ;  y  que  fueno  cierto,  quo  en  ningun 

la  Alpuxarra  con  sola  la  canilsa  que  tenia  tieuipo,  nl  por  ninguna  manera,ge  pon<lria  en 

ve«tlda,  entimaha  man  vivir  y  niorlr  Moro,  que  su   poder."    Marmol,  Rebclion  de  Granada, 

todas  quanta*  mercedea  el  Key  Filtpe  le  podia  turn.  11.  p.  410. 


598  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

effectually  closed  the  audience.  Palacios  was  permitted  to  return  unmolested, 
and  to  report  to  his  commander  the  failure  of  his  mission. 

The  war,  which  Don  John  had  flattered  himself  he  had  so  happily  brought 
to  a  close,  now,  like  a  fire  smothered  but  not  quenched,  burst  fortn  again  with 
redoubled  fury.  The  note  of  defiance  was  heard  loudest  among  the  hills  of 
Ronda,  a  wild  sierra  on  the  western  skirts  of  the  Alpujarras,  inhabited  by  a 
bold  and  untamed  race,  more  formidable  than  the  mountaineers  of  any  other 
district  of  Granada.  Aben-Aboo  did  all  he  could  to  fan  the  flame  of  insurrec- 
tion in  this  quarter,  and  sent  his  own  brother,  El  Galipe,  to  take  the  com- 
mand. 

The  Spanish  government,  now  fully  aroused,  made  more  vigorous  efforts  to 
crush  the  spirit  of  rebellion  than  at  any  time  during  the  war.  l)on  John  was 
ordered  to  occupy  Guadix,  and  thence  to  scour  tne  country  in  a  northerly 
direction.  Another  army,  under  the  Grand  Commander  Requesens,  marching 
from  Granada,  was  to  enter  the  Alpujarras  from  the  north,  and,  taking  a 
route  different  from  that  of  the  duke  of  Sesa  in  the  previous  campaign,  was  to 
carry  a  war  of  extermination  into  the  heart  of  the  mountains.  Finally,  the 
duke  of  Arcos,  the  worthy  descendant  of  the  great  marquis  of  Cadiz,  whose 
name  was  so  famous  in  the  first  war  of  Granada,  and  whose  large  estates  in 
this  quarter  he  had  inherited,  was  intrusted  with  the  operations  against  the 
rebels  of  the  Serrania  de  Ronda. 

The  grand  commander  executed  his  commission  in  the  same  remorseless 
spirit  in  which  it  had  been  dictated.  Early  in  September,  quitting  Granada, 
he  took  the  field  at  the  head  of  five  thousand  men.  He  struck  at  once  into 
the  heart  of  the  country.  All  the  evils  of  war  in  its  most  horrid  form  followed 
in  his  train.  All  along  his  track  it  seemed  as  if  the  land  had  been  swept  by 
a  conflagration.  The  dwellings  were  sacked  and  burned  to  the  ground.  The 
mulberry  and  olive  groves  were  cut  down  ;  the  vines  were  torn  up  by  the 
roots ;  and  the  ripening  harvests  were  trampled  in  the  dust  The  country 
was  converted  into  a  wilderness.  Occasionally  small  bodies  of  the  Moriscoes 
made  a  desperate  stand.  But  for  the  most  part,  without  homes  to  shelter  or 
food  to  nourish  them,  they  were  driven,  like  unresisting  cattle,  to  seek  a  refuge 
in  the  depths  of  the  mountains,  and  in  the  caves  in  which  this  part  of  the 
country  abounded.  Their  pursuers  followed  up  the  chase  with  the  fierce'  glee 
with  which  the  hunter  tracks  the  wild  animal  of  the  forest  to  his  lair.  There 
they  were  huddled  together,  one  or  two  hundred  frequently  in  the  same 
cavern.  It  was  not  easy  to  detect  the  hiding-place  amidst  the  rocks  and 
thickets  which  covered  up  and  concealed  the  entrance.  But  when  it  was 
detected  it  was  no  difficult  matter  to  destroy  the  inmates.  The  green  bushes 
furnished  the  materials  for  a  smouldering  fire,  and  those  within  were  soon 
suffocated  by  the  smoke,  or,  rushing  out,  threw  themselves  on  the  mercy  of 
their  pursuers.  Some  were  butchered  on  the  spot ;  others  were  sent  to  the 
gibbet  or  the  galleys  ;  while  the  greater  part,  with  a  fate  scarcely  less  terrible, 
were  given  up  as  the  booty  of  the  soldiers  and  sold  into  slavery.26 

Aben-Aboo  had  a  narrow  escape  in  one  of  these  caverns,  not  far  from 
Berchul,  where  he  had  secreted  himself  with  a  wife  and  two  of  his  daughters. 
The  women  were  suffocated,  with  about  seventy  other  persons.  The  Morisco 
chief  succeeded  in  making  his  escape  through  an  aperture  at  the  farther  end, 
which  was  unknown  to  his  enemies.  *' 

"  It  Is  the  language  of  Marmol,  who  will  otros  hacia  justicia  de  ellos,  y  los  mas  consen- 

not  be  suspected  of  exaggerating  the  cruelties  tia  que  los  vendiesen  los  soldados  para  qvie 

of  his  countrymen.     He  does  not  seem,  in-  fuesen  aprovechados."    Bebelion  de  Graiiada, 

dped.  to  regard  them  as  cruelties  :  "  Unos  en-  torn.  ii.  p.  436. 

viaba  el  Comendador  mayor  &  las  galeras,  "  Ibid.,  p.  433. 


RENEWAL  OF  THE  WAR.  597 

Small  forts  were  erected  at  short  intervals  along  the  ruined  country.  No 
less  than  eighty-four  of  these  towers  were  raised  in  different  parts  of  the  land, 
twenty-nine  of  wliich  were  to  be  seen  in  the  Alpujarras  and  the  vale  of  Lecrin 
alone.28  There  they  stood,  crowning  every  peak  and  eminence  in  the  sierra, 
frowning  over  the  horrid  waste,  the  sad  memorials  of  the  conquest.  This  was 
the  stern  policy  of  the  victors.  Within  this  rocky  girdle,  long  held  as  it  was 
by  the  iron  soldiery  of  Castile,  it  was  impossible  that  rebellion  should  again 
gather  to  a  head. 

The  months  of  September  and  October  were  consumed  in  these  operations. 
Meanwhile,  the  duke  of  Arcos  had  mustered  his  Andalusian  levies,  to  the 
number  of  four  thousand  men,  including  a  thousand  of  his  own  vassals.  He 
took  with  him  his  son,  a  boy  of  not  more  than  thirteen  years  of  age, — following 
in  this,  says  the  chronicler,  the  ancient  usage  of  the  valiant  house  of  Ponce  de 
Leon.**  About  the  middle  of  September  he  began  his  expedition  into  the  Sierra 
Vernieja,  or  Red  Sierra.  It  was  a  spot  memorable  in  Spanish  history  for  the 
defeat  and  death  of  Alonso  de  Aguilar,  in  the  time  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 
and  has  furnished  the  theme  of  many  a  plaintive  romance  in  the  beautiful 
minstrelsy  of  the  South.  The  wife  of  the  duke  of  Arcos  was  descended  from 
Alonso  de  Aguilar,  as  he  himself  was  the  grandson  of  the  good  count  of  Ureiia, 
who,  with  tetter  fortune  than  his  friend,  survived  the  disasters  of  that  day. 
The  route  of  the  army  led  directly  across  the  fatal  field.  As  they  traversed 
the  elevated  plain  of  Calaluz,  the  soldiers  saw  everywhere  around  the  traces  of 
the  fight.  Tne  ground  was  still  covered  with  fragments  of  rusty  armour,  bits 
of  broken  sword- blades,  and  heads  of  spears.  More  touching  evidence  was 
afforded  by  the  bones  of  men  and  horses,  which,  in  this  solitary  region,  had 
been  whitening  in  the  blasts  of  seventy  winters.  The  Spaniards  knew  well 
the  localities,  with  which  they  had  become  familiar  from  boyhood  in  the 
legends  and  traditions  of  the  country.  Here  was  the  spot  where  the  vanguard, 
under  its  brave  commander,  had  made  its  halt  in  the  obscurity  of  the  night 
There  were  the  faint  remains  of  the  enemy's  intrenchments,  which  time  Lad 
nearly  levelled  with  the  dust ;  and  there,  too,  the  rocks  still  threw  their  dark 
shadows  over  the  plain,  as  on  the  day  when  the  valiant  Alonso  de  Aguilar  fell 
at  their  base  in  combat  with  the  renowned  Feri  de  Ben  Estepar.  The  whole 
scene  was  brought  home  to  the  hearts  of  the  Spaniards.  As  they  gazed  on 
the  unburied  relics  lying  around  them,  the  tears,  says  the  eloquent  historian 
who  records  the  incident,  fell  fast  down  their  iron  cheeks,  and  they  breathed 
a  soldier's  prayer  for  the  repose  of  the  noble  dead.  But  these  holier  feelings 
were  soon  succeeded  by  others  of  a  fierce  nature,  and  they  loudly  clamoured 
to  be  led  against  the  enemy.1* 

The  duke  of  Arcos,  profiting  by  the  errors  of  Alonso  de  Aguilar,  had  made 
his  arrangements  with  great  circumspection.  He  soon  came  in  sight  of  the 
Moriscoes,  full  three  thousand  strong.  But,  though  well  posted,  they  made  a 
defence  little  worthy  of  their  ancient  reputation,  or  of  the  notes  of  defiance 

*•  Circonrt  gives  a  precise  enumeration  of  "'  For  the  celebrated  description  of  this 

the  fortresses  in  different  districts  of  the  event  by  Mendoza,  see  Querra  de  Granada,  pp. 

country.  Hist,  dea  Arabes  d'Espagne,  torn.  301,  302.  The  Castillan  historian,  who  pro- 

iii.  pp.  135,  136.  bably  borrowed  tbe  hint  of  it  from  Tacitus 

**  "Llevando  cerca  de  sf  a  su  hijo,  mozo  (Annales,  lib.  i.  sec.  31),  has  painted  the 

quasi  de  trace  afios  Don  Luis  I'once  de  Leon,  scene  with  a  consummate  art  that  raises  him 

cosa  nsada  en  otra  edad  en  aquellaCasa  de  los  from  the  rank  of  an  imitator  to  that  <>f  a  rival. 

Ponces  de  Leon,  criarse  los  muchachos  polo-  The  reader  may  find  a  circumstantial  account 

ando  ran  los  Moros,  I  tenor  a  sus  padres  por  of  Alonso  de  Apuilar'n  disastrous  expedition, 

inai-stros."  Mcndoza,  (Juerra  de  (jrauada,  in  1501,  in  the  History  of  Ferdinand  and  iRa- 

p.  318.  bclla,  part  II.  ch.  7. 


593  REBELLION  OP  THE  MORISCOES. 

which  they  had  so  boldly  sounded  at  the  opening  of  the  campaign.  They 
indeed  showed  mettle  at  first,  and  inflicted  some  loss  on  the  Christians.  But 
the  frequent  reverses  of  their  countrymen  seemed  to  have  broken  their  spirits, 
and  they  were  soon  thrown  into  disorder,  and  tied  in  various  directions  into 
the  more  inaccessible  tracts  of  the  sierra.  The  Spaniards  followed  up  the 
fugitives,  who  did  not  attempt  to  rally.  Nor  did  they  ever  again  assemble  in 
any  strength,  so  effectual  were  the  dispositions  made  by  the  victorious  general 
The  insurrection  of  the  Sierra  Vermeja  was  at  an  end.31 

The  rebellion,  indeed,  might  be  said  to  be  everywhere  crushed  within  the 
borders  of  Granada.  The  more  stout-hearted  of  the  insurgents  still  held  out 
among  the  caves  and  fastnesses  of  the  Alpujarras,  supporting  a  precarious 
existence  until  they  were  hunted  down  by  detachments  of  the  Spaniards,  who 
were  urged  to  the  pursuit  by  the  promise  from  government  of  twenty  ducats  a 
head  for  every  Morisco.  But  nearly  all  felt  the  impracticability  of  further 
resistance.  Some  succeeded  in  making  their  escape  to  Barbary.  The  rest, 
broken  in  spirit,  and  driven  to  extremity  by  want  of  food  in  a  country  now 
turned  into  a  desert,  consented  at  length  to  accept  the  amnesty  offered  them, 
and  tendered  their  submission. 

On  the  twenty-eighth  of  October  Don  John  received  advices  of  a  final  edict 
of  Philip,  commanding  that  all  the  Moriscoes  in  the  kingdom  of  Granada 
should  be  at  once  removed  into  the  interior  of  the  country.  None  were  to  be 
excepted  from  this  decree,  not  even  the  Moriscos  de  la  Paz,  as  those  were 
called  who  had  loyally  refused  to  take  part  in  the  rebellion.32  The  arrange- 
ments for  this  important  and  difficult  step  were  made  with  singular  prudence, 
and,  under  the  general  direction  of  Don  John  of  Austria,  the  Grand  Com- 
mander Requesens,  and  the  dukes  of  Sesa  and  Arcos,  were  carried  into  effect 
with  promptness  and  energy. 

By  the  terms  of  the  edict,  the  lands  and  houses  of  the  exiles  were  to  be  for- 
feited to  the  crown.  But  their  personal  effects — their  flocks,  their  herds,  and 
their  grain — would  be  taken,  if  they  desired  it,  at  a  fixed  valuation  by  the 
government.  Every  regard  was  to  be  paid  to  their  personal  convenience  and 
security ;  and  it  was  forbidden,  in  the  removal,  to  separate  parents  from 
children,  husbands  from  wives,  in  short,  to  divide  the  members  of  a  family 
from  one  another, — "  an  act  of  clemency,"  says  a  humane  chronicler,  "  which 
they  little  deserved ;  but  his  majesty  was  willing  in  this  to  content  them."  ** 

The  country  was  divided  into  districts,  the  inhabitants  of  which  were  to  be 
conducted,  under  the  protection  of  a  strong  military  escort,  to  their  several 
places  of  destination.  These  seem  to  have  been  the  territory  of  La  Mancha, 
the  northern  borders  of  Andalusia,  the  Castiles,  Estremadura,  and  even  the 
remote  province  of  Galicia.  Care  was  taken  that  no  settlement  should  be 
made  near  the  borders  of  Murcia  or  Valencia,  where  large  numbers  of  the 
Moriscoes  were  living  in  comparative  quiet  on  the  estates  of  the  great  nobles, 
who  were  exceedingly  jealous  of  any  interference  with  their  vassals. 

The  first  of  November,  All-Saints'  Day,  was  appointed  for  the  removal  of 

31  Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  pp.  298-  but  they  cannot   hereafter   cultivate   their 

314.— Mannol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  lands ;  and  then  it  would  be  an  endless  task 

pp.  425-431.  to  attempt  to  separate  the  innocent  from  the 

3"  Circourt  quotes  a  remarkable  passage  guilty.    We  shall  indemnify  them,  certainly, 

from  the  Ordenanzat  de  Granada,  which  well  Meanwhile,  their  estates  must  be  confiscated, 

illustrates  the  conscientious  manner  in  which  like  those  of  the  rebel  Moriscoes."    Hist,  des 

the  government  dealt  with  the  Moriscoes.    It  Arabes  d'Kspagne,  torn.  iii.  p.  148. 
forms  the  preamble  of  the  law  of  February  "  "  Que  las  casas  fuesf-n  y  estuviesen  Jun- 

24th,   1571.     "The  Moriscoes  who  took  no  tas;  porque  aunque  lo  merecian  poco,  quiso 

part  in  the  insurrection  ought  not  to  he  pun-  PII  Majrestsd  one  BP  !es  diese  este  n>rt«>iito  " 

isbed.     We  should  not  desire  to  injure  them ;  Maruiol,  Rebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  p.  43:'. 


EXPULSION  OF  THE  MOORS.  599 

the  Moriscoes  throughout  Granada.  On  that  day  they  were  gathered  in  the 
principal  churches  of  their  districts,  and,  after  being  formed  into  their  respec- 
tive divisions,  began  their  march.  The  grand  commander  had  occupied  the 
passes  of  the  Alpujarras  with  strong  detachments  of  the  military.  The 
different  columns  of  emigrants  were  placed  under  the  direction  of  persons  of 
authority  and  character.  The  whole  movement  was  conducted  with  singular 
order, — resistance  being  attempted  in  one  or  two  places  only,  where  the 
blame,  it  may  be  added,  as  intimated  by  a  Castilian  chronicler,  was  to  be 
charged  on  the  brutality  of  the  soldiers.34  Still,  the  removal  of  the  Moriscoes, 
on  the  present  occasion,  was  attended  with  fewer  acts  of  violence  and  rapacity 
than  the  former  removal,  from  Granada.  At  least  this  would  seem  to  be 
inferred  by  the  silence  of  the  chroniclers  ;  though  it  is  true  such  silence  is  far 
from  being  conclusive,  as  the  chroniclers,  for  the  most  part,  felt  too  little 
interest  in  the  sufferings  of  the  Moriscoes  to  make  a  notice  of  them  indispen- 
sable. However  this  may  be,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that,  whatever  precautions 
may  have  been  taken  to  spare  the  exiles  any  unnecessary  suffering,  the  simple 
fact  of  their  being  expelled  from  their  native  soil  is  one  that  suggests  an 
amount  of  misery  not  to  be  estimated.  For  what  could  be  more  dreadful 
than  to  be  thus  torn  from  their  pleasant  homes,  the  scenes  of  their  childhood, 
where  every  mountain,  valley,  and  stream  were  as  familiar  friends, — a  part  of 
their  own  existence, — to  be  rudely  thrust  into  a  land  of  strangers,  of  a  race 
different  from  themselves  in  faith,  language,  and  institutions,  with  no  senti- 
ment in  common  but  that  of  a  deadly  hatred  ?  That  the  removal  of  a  whole 
nation  should  have  been  so  quietly  accomplished,  proves  how  entirely  the 
strength  and  spirit  of  the  Moriscoes  must  have  been  broken  by  their  reverses.35 
The  war  thus  terminated,  there  seemed  no  reason  for  John  of  Austria  to 
prolong  his  stay  in  the  province.  For  some  time  he  had  been  desirous  to 
obtain  the  king's  consent  to  his  return.  His  ambitious  spirit,  impatient  of 
playing  a  part  on  what  now  seemed  to  him  an  obscure  field  of  action,  pent  up 
within  the  mountain-barrier  of  the  Alpujarras,  longed  to  display  itself  on  a 
bolder  theatre  before  the  world.  He  aspired,  too,  to  a  more  independent 
command.  He  addressed  repeated  letters  to  the  king's  ministers, — to  the 
Cardinal  Espinosa  and  Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva  in  particular, — to  solicit  their 
influence  in  his  behalf.  "  I  should  be  glad,"  he  wrote  to  the  latter,  "  to  serve 
his  majesty,  if  I  might  be  allowed,  on  some  business  of  importance.  I  wish 
he  may  understand  that  I  am  no  longer  a  boy.  Thank  God.  I  can  begin  to 
fly  without  the  aid  of  others'  wings,  and  it  is  full  time,  as  I  believe,  that  I  was 
out  of  swaddling-clothes."  **  In  another  letter  he  expresses  his  desire  to  have 

••  "Saquearon  los  soldados  las  casas  del  strange  that  it  should  have  been  passed  over 

lugar,  y  tomaron  todas  las  mugeres  por  es-  in  silence  by  a  writer  like  Mendoza,  to  whose 

cUvas ;  cosa  quo  dio  harta  sospecha  de  que  narrative  it  essentially  belonged,  and  who 

U  desorden  nabla  na>  ido  de  su  cudlcia,"   Mar-  could  bestow  thirty  pages  or  more  on  the  ox- 

nii)l.  Kebellon  de  Uranada,  torn.  ii.  p.  444. —  petition  into  the  Serranla  de  Honda.    But  this 

The  better  feelings  of  the  old  soldier  occa-  was  a  tale  of  Spanish  glory.    The  haughty 

sionally — and  it  is  no  small  praise,  consider-  Castilian  chronicler  held  the  race  of  unbe- 

Ing  the  times — triumph  over    bis    national  lievers    in    too  great  contempt  to  waste  a 

antipathies.  thouglH  on  their  calamities,  except  so  far  as 

"  For  the  removal  and  dispersion  .of  the  they  enabled  him  to  exhibit  the  prowess  of 

Moriscoes.  see  Marmol,  Kebellon  de  Granada,  his  countrymen. 

torn.  ii.  pp.  437-444, — Ferreras,  Hist.  d'Es-  -  "  Querria  tamblen  que  alii  se  pntendlese 

pagne,  torn.  x.  pp.  227, 22!), — Vanderhammen,  que  ya  no  soy  mochAcbo,  y  que  puedo,  ii  Dlos 

I>on  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  126, — It  may  well  graclas,  aunenzar  en  alguna  mancra  it  volar 

seem  strange  that  an  event  of  such  moment  sin  alas  ajenas,  y  sospecho  ques  ya  tlempo  de 

as  the  removal  of  the  Moriscoes  should  have  salir  de  paflales."    Carta  de  D.  Juan  de  Au- 

been  barely  noticed,  when  Indeed  noticed  at  stria  a    Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva,  16  de  Mayo, 

ali,  by  the  general  historian,     it  is  still  more  157u,  MS. 


600  REBELLION  OF  THE  MOR1SCOES. 

some  place  more  fitting  the  brother  of  such  a  monarch  as  Philip  and  the  son 
of  such  a  father  as  Charles  the  Fifth.37  On  more  than  one  occasion  he  alludes 
to  the  command  against  the  Turk  as  the  great  object  of  his  ambition. 

His  importunity  to  be  allowed  to  resign  his  present  office  had  continued 
from  the  beginning  of  summer,  some  months  before  the  proper  close  of  the 
campaign.  It  may  be  thought  to  argue  an  instability  of  character,  of  which 
a  more  memorable  example  was  afforded  by  him  at  a  later  period  of  life.  At 
length  he  was  rejoiced  by  obtaining  the  royal  consent  to  resign  his  command 
and  return  to  court. 

On  the  eleventh  of  November,  Don  John  repaired  to  Granada.  Till  the 
close  of  the  month  he  was  occupied  with  making  the  necessary  arrangements 
preparatory  to  his  departure.  The  greater  part  of  the  army  was  paid  off  and 
disbanded.  A  sufficient  number  was  reserved  to  garrison  the  fortresses,  and 
to  furnish  detachments  which  were  to  scour  the  country  and  hunt  down  such 
Moriscoes  as  still  held  out  in  the  mountains.  As  Requesens  was  to  take  part 
in  the  expedition  against  the  Ottomans,  the  office  of  captain -general  was 

S'aced  in  the  hands  of  the  valiant  duke  of  Arcos.  On  the  twenty-ninth  of 
ovember,  Don  John,  having  completed  his  preparations,  quitted  Granada 
and  set  forth  on  his  journey  to  Madrid,  where  the  popular  chieftain  was 
welcomed  with  enthusiasm  by  the  citizens,  as  a  conqueror'  returned  from  a 
victorious  campaign.  By  Philip  and  his  newly  married  bride,  Anne  of  Austria, 
he  was  no  less  kindly  greeted ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  king  gave  a 
substantial  proof  of  his  contentment  with  his  brother,  by  placing  in  his 
hands  the  baton  offered  by  the  allies  of  generalissimo  in  the  war  against  the 
Turks. 

There  was  still  one  Morisco  insurgent  who  refused  to  submit,  and  who  had 
hitherto  eluded  every  attempt  to  capture  him,  but  whose  capture  was  of  more 
importance  than  that  of  any  other  of  his  nation.  This  was  Aben-Aboo,  the 
"  little  king  "  of  the  Alpujarras.  His  force  of  five  thousand  men  had  dwindled 
to  scarcely  more  than  four  hundred.  But  they  were  men  devoted  to  his 
person,  and  seemed  prepared  to  endure  every  extremity  rather  than  surrender. 
Like  the  rest  of  his  nation,  the  Morisco  chief  took  refuge  in  the  mountain- 
caves,  in  such  remote  and  inaccessible  districts  as  had  hitherto  baffled  every 
attempt  to  detect  his  retreat  In  March,  1571,  an  opportunity  presented 
itself  for  making  the  discovery. 

Granada  was  at  this  time  the  scene  of  almost  daily  executions.  As  the 
miserable  insurgents  were  taken,  they  were  brought  before  Deza's  tribunal, 
where  they  were  at  once  sentenced  by  the  inexorable  president  to  the  galleys 
or  the  gibbet,  or  the  more  horrible  doom  of  being  torn  in  pieces  with  red-hot 
pincers.  Among  the  prisoners  sentenced  to  death  was  one  Zatahari,  who  was 
so  fortunate  as  to  obtain  a  respite  of  his  punishment  at  the  intercession  of  a 
goldsmith  named  Barredo,  a  person  of  much  consideration  in  Granada.  From 
gratitude  for  this  service,  or  perhaps  as  the  price  of  it,  Zatahari  made  some 
important  revelations  to  his  benefactor  respecting  Aben-Aboo.  He  disclosed 
the  place  of  his  retirement  and  the  number  of  his  followers,  adding  that  the 
two  persons  on  whom  he  most  relied  were  his  secretary,  Abou-Amer,  and  a 
Moorish  captain  named  El  Senix  The  former  of  these  persons  was  known  to 
Barredo,  who  in  the  course  of  his  business  had  frequent  occasion  to  make 
journeys  iqto  the  Alpujarras.  He  resolved  to  open  a  correspondence  with  the 
secretary,  and,  if  possible,  win  him  over  to  the  Spanish  interests.  Zatahari 
consented  to  bear  the  letter,  on  condition  of  a  pardon.  This  was  readily 

17  •!  No  teniendp  el  lugar  y  auctoridad  que  tal  herjnanq."  Carta  de  D.  Juan  d*  Austria 
ha  de  tener  liijo  de  tal  padre,  y  hermaiio  de  4  Kuy  Gomez  dc  Silva,  4  de  Junio,  1570,  MS. 


MURDER  OF  ABEN-ABOO.  6C1 

granted  by  the  president,  who  approved  the  plan,  and  who  authorized  the 
most  liberal  promises  to  Abou-Amer  in  case  of  his  co-operation  with  Barredo. 

Unfortunately, — or,  rather,  fortunately  for  Zatahari,  as  it  proved, — he  was 
intercepted  by  El  Senix,  who,  getting  possession  of  the  letter,  carried  it  to 
Abou-Amer.  The  loyal  secretary  was  outraged  by  this  attempt  to  corrupt 
him.  He  would  have  put  the  messenger  to  death,  had  not  El  Senix  repre- 
sented that  the  poor  wretch  had  undertaken  the  mission  only  to  save  his  life. 

Privately  the  Moorish  captain  assured  the  messenger  that  Barredo  should 
have  sought  a  conference  with  him,  as  he  was  ready  to  enter  into  negotiations 
with  the  Christians.  In  fact,  El  Senix  had  a  grudge  against  his  master,  and 
had  already  made  an  attempt  to  leave  his  service  and  escape  to  Barbary. 

A  place  of  meeting  was  accordingly  appointed  in  the  Alpujarras,  to  which 
Barredo  secretly  repaired.  El  Senix  was  furnished  with  an  assurance,  under 
the  president's  own  hand,  of  a  pardon  for  himself  and  his  friends,  and  of  an 
annual  pension  of  a  hundred  thousand  maravedis,  in  case  he  should  bring 
Aben-Aboo,  dead  or  alive,  to  Granada. 

The  interview  could  not  be  conducted  so  secretly  but  that  an  intimation 
of  it  reached  the  ears  of  Aben-Aboo,  who  resolved  to  repair  at  once  to  the 
quarters  of  El  Senix  and  ascertain  the  truth  for  himself.  That  chief  had 
secreted  himself  in  a  cavern  in  the  neighbourhood.  Aben-Aboo  took  with 
him  his  faithful  secretary  and  a  small  body  of  soldiers.  On  reaching  the  cave, 
he  left  his  followers  without,  and,  placing  two  men  at  the  entrance,  he,  with 
less  prudence  than  was  usual  with  him.  passed  alone  into  the  interior. 

There  he  found  El  Senix,  surrounded  by  several  of  his  friends  and  kinsmen. 
Aben-Aboo,  in  a  peremptory  tone,  charged  him  with  having  held  a  secret 
correspondence  with  the  enemy,  and  demanded  the  object  of  his  late  interview 
with  Barredo.  Senix  did  not  attempt  to  deny  the  charge,  but  explained  his 
motives  by  saying  that  he  had  been  prompted  only  by  a  desire  to  serve  his 
master,  lie  had  succeeded  so  well,  he  said,  as  to  obtain  from  the  president 
an  assurance  that  if  the  Moriscp  would  lay  down  his  arms  he  should  receive 
an  amnesty  for  the  past  and  a  liberal  provision  for  the  future. 

Aben-Aboo  listened  scornfully  to  this  explanation ;  then,  muttering  the 
word  "  Treachery  !  "  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  moved  towards  the  mouth  of 
the  cave,  where  ne  had  left  his  soldiers,  intending  probably  to  command  the 
arrest  of  his  perfidious  officer.  But  he  had  not  given  them,  it  appears,  any 
intimation  of  the  hostile  object  of  his  visit  to  El  Senix ;  and  the  men,  sup- 
posing it  to  be  on  some  matter  of  ordinary  business,  had  left  the  spot  to  see 
some  of  their  friends  in  the  neighbourhood.  El  Senix  saw  that  no  time  was' 
to  be  lost  On  a  signal  which  he  gave,  his  followers  attacked  the  two  guards 
at  the  door,  one  of  whom  was  killed  on  the  spot,  while  the  other  made  his 
escape.  They  then  all  fell  upon  the  unfortunate  Aben-Aboo.  He  made  a 
desperate  defence.  But  though  the  struggle  was  fierce,  the  odds  were  too 
great  for  it  to  be  long.  It  was  soon  terminated  by  the  dastard  Senix  coming 
behind  his  master  and  with  the  butt-end  of  his  musket  dealing  him  a  blow  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  that  brought  him  to  the  ground,  where  he  was  quickly 
.despatched  by  a  multitude  of  wounds.** 

The  corpse  was  thrown  out  of  the  cavern.  His  followers,  soon  learning 
their  master's  fate,  dispersed  in  different  directions.  The  faithful  secretary 
fell  shortly  after  into  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  who,  with  their  usual 
humanity  in  this  war,  caused  him  to  be  drawn  and  quartered. 

The  body  of  Abeu-Aboo  was  transported  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Granada, 

•"  Mannol,  Kebelion  de  Granada,  torn.  11.  762.— Herrera,  Illntorta  general,  t<  in  1.  p- 
pp.  449-454.— Mcndota,  Guerra  de  Granada,  7«l.— Vanderbammcn,  Don  Juan  de  Austria, 
pp.  321-3-.J7.— BUda,  Crtmlca  de  Enpana,  p.  fol.  123. 


602  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

where  preparations  were  made  for  giving  the  dead  chief  a  public  entrance 
into  the  city,  as  if  he  had  been  still  alive.  The  corpse  was  set  astride  on  a 
mule,  and  supported  erect  in  the  saddle  by  a  wooden  frame,  which  was  con- 
cealed beneath  ample  robes.  On  one  side  of  the  body  rode  Earredo  ;  on  the 
other,  El  Senix,  bearing  the  scimitar  and  arquebuse  of  his  murdered  master. 
Then  followed  the  kinsmen  and  friends  of  the  Morisco  prince,  with  their 
arms  by  their  side.  A  regiment  of  Castilian  infantry  and  a  troop  of  horte 
brought  up  the  rear.  As  the  procession  defiled  along  the  street  of  Zacatin, 
it  was  saluted  by  salvoes  of  musketry,  accompanied  by  peals  of  artillery  from 
the  ancient  towers  of  the  Alhambra,  while  the  population  of  Granada,  with 
eager  though  silent  curiosity,  hurried  out  to  gaze  on  the  strange  and  ghastly 
spectacle. 

In  this  way  the  company  reached  the  great  square  of  Viyarambla,  where 
were  assembled  the  president,  the  duke  of  Arcos,  and  the  principal  cavaliers 
and  magistrates  of  the  city.  On  coming  into  their  presence,  El  Senix  dis- 
mounted, and,  kneeling  before  Deza,  delivered  to  him  the  arms  of  Aben-Aboo. 
He  was  graciously  received  by  the  president,  who  confirmed  the  assurances 
which  had  been  given  him  of  the  royal  favour.  The  miserable  ceremony  of  a 
public  execution  was  then  gone  through  with.  The  head  of  the  dead  man 
was  struck  off.  His  body  was  given  to  the  boys  of  the  city,  who,  after  drag- 
ging it  through  the  streets  with  scoffs  and  imprecations,  committed  it  to  the 
Barnes.  Such  was  one  of  the  lessons  by  which  the  Spaniards  early  stamped 
on  the  minds  of  their  children  an  indelible  hatred  of  the  Morisco. 

The  head  of  Aben-Aboo,  enclosed  in  a  cage,  was  set  up  over  the  gate  which 
opened  on  the  Alpujarras.  There,  with  the  face  turned  towards  his  native 
hills,  which  he  had  loved  so  well  and  which  had  witnessed  his  brief  and  dis- 
astrous reign,  it  remained  for  many  a  year.  None  ventured,  by  removing  it, 
to  incur  the  doom  which  an  inscription  on  the  cage  denounced  on  the  offender : 
"  This  is  the  head  of  the  traitor,  Aben-Aboo.  Let  no  one  take  it  down,  under 
penalty  of  death."  *9 

Such  was  the  sad  fate  of  Aben-Aboo,  the  last  of  the  royal  line  of  the 
Omeyades  who  ever  ruled  in  the  Peninsula.  Had  he  lived  in  the  peaceful 
and  prosperous  times  of  the  Arabian  empire  in  Spain,  he  might  have  swayed 
the  sceptre  with  as  much  renown  as  the  best  of  his  dynasty.  Though  the 
blood  of  the  Moor  flowed  in  his  veins,  he  seems  to  have  been  remarkably  free 
from  some  of  the  greatest  defects  in  the  Moorish  character.  He  was  tempe- 
rate in  his  appetites,  presenting  in  this  respect  a  contrast  to  the  gross  sensuality 
of  his  predecessor.  He  had  a  lofty  spirit,  was  cool  and  circumspect  in  his 
judgments,  and,  if  he  could  not  boast  that  fiery  energy  of  character  which 
belonged  to  some  of  his  house,  he  had  a  firmness  of  purpose  not  to  be  intimi- 
dated by  suffering  or  danger.  Of  this  he  gave  signal  proof  when,  as  the  reader 
may  remember,  the  most  inhuman  tortures  could  not  extort  from  him  the 
disclosure  of  the  lurking-place  of  his  friends.40  His  qualities,  as  I  have  inti- 
mated, were  such  as  peculiarly  adapted  him  to  a  time  of  prosperity  and  peace. 
Unhappily,  he  had  fallen  upon  evil  times,  when  his  country  lay  a  wreck  at  his 
feet ;  when  the  people,  depressed  by  long  servitude,  were  broken  down  by  the 
recent  calamities  of  war  ;  when,  in  short,  it  would  not  have  been  possible  for 
the  wisest  and  most  warlike  of  his  predecessors  to  animate  them  to  a  success- 
ful resistance  against  odds  so  overwhelming  as  those  presented  by  the  Spanish 
monarchy  in  the  zenith  of  its  power. 

19  "Beta  es  la  cabeza  del  traidor  de  Aben-  456. — Bleda,  Cronica  de  Kspafia,  p.  752.— Mi- 

ab6.      Nadie   la   quit'-  so  pena  de  muerte."  Diana.  Hist,  de  Espafia,  p.  383. 

Mendoza,  Guerra  de  Granada,  p.  329. — Mar-  *°  Ante,  p.  530. 
inul,  Rebetton  de  Granada,  torn.  ii.  pp.  455, 


FORTUNES  OF  THE  MORISCOES.  603 

The  Castilian  chroniclers  have  endeavoured  to  fix  a  deep  stain  on  his 
memory,  by  charging  him  with  the  murder  of  El  Habaqui,  and  with  the 
refusal  to  execute  the  treaty  to  which  he  had  given  his  sanction.  But  in 
criticising  the  conduct  of  Aben-Aboo  we  must  not  forget  the  race  from  which 
he  sprang,  or  the  nature  of  its  institutions.  He  was  a  despot,  and  a  despot 
of  the  Oriental  type.  He  was  placed  in  a  situation — much  against  his  will, 
it  may  be  added— which  gave  him  absolute  control  over  the  lives  and  fortunes 
of  his  people.  His  word  was  their  law.  He  passed  the  sentence,  and  en- 
forced its  execution.  El  Habaqui  he  adjudged  to  be  a  traitor ;  and  in 
sentencing  him  to  the  bowstring  he  inflicted  on  him  only  a  traitor's  doom. 

With  regard  to  the  treaty,  he  spoke  of  himself  as  betrayed,  saying  that  its 
provisions  were  not  such  as  he  had  intended.  And  when  we  consider  that  the 
instrument  was  written  in  the  Spanish  tongue,  that  it  was  drafted  by  a 
Spaniard,  finally,  that  the  principal  Morisco  agent  who  subscribed  the  treaty 
was  altogether  in  the  Spanish  interest,  as  the  favours  heaped  on  him  without 
measure  too  plainly  proved,  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  there  were  good 
grounds  for  the  assertion  of  Aben-Aboo.  From  the  hour  of  his  accession  he 
seems  to  have  devoted  himself  to  the  great  work  of  securing  the  independence 
of  his  people.  He  could  scarcely  have  agreed  to  a  treaty  which  was  to  leave 
that  people  in  even  a  worse  state  than  before  the  "rebellion.  From  what  we 
know  of  nis  character,  we  may  more  reasonably  conclude  that  he  was  sincere 
when  he  told  the  Spanish  envoy  Palacios,  who  had  come  to  press  the  execu- 
tion of  the  treaty  and  to  remind  him  of  the  royal  promises  of  grace,  that  "  his 
people  might  do  as  they  listed,  but,  for  himself,  he  would  rather  live  and  die 
a  Mussulman  than  possess  all  the  favours  which  the  king  of  Spain  could  heap 
on  him."  His  deeds  corresponded  with  his  words  ;  and,  desperate  as  was  his 
condition,  he  still  continued  to  bid  defiance  to  the  Spanish  government,  until 
he  was  cut  off  by  the  hand  of  a  traitor. 

The  death  of  Aben-Aboo  severed  the  last  bond  which  held  the  remnant  of 
the  Moriscoes  together.  In  a  few  years  the  sword,  famine,  and  the  gallows 
had  exterminated  the  outcasts  who  still  lurked  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  moun- 
tains. Their  places  were  gradually  occupied  by  Christians,  drawn  thither  by 
the  favourable  terras  which  the  government  ottered  to  settlers.  But  it  was 
long  before  the  wasted  and  famine-stricken  territory  could  make  a  suitable 
return  to  the  labours  of  the  colonists.  They  were  ignorant  of  the  country, 
and  were  altogether  deficient  in  the  agricultural  skill  necessary  for  turning  its 
unpromising  places  to  the  best  account.  The  Spaniard,  adventurous  as  he 
was,  and  reckless  of  danger  and  difficulty  in  the  pursuit  of  gain,  was  impatient 
of  the  humble  drudgery  required  for  the  tillage  of  the  soil ;  and  many  a  valley 
and  hillside,  which  under  the  Moriscoes  had  bloomed  with  all  the  rich  em- 
broidery of  cultivation,  now  relapsed  into  its  primitive  barrenness. 

The  exiles  carried  their  superior  skill  and  industry  into  the  various  provinces 
where  they  were  sent  Scattered  as  they  were,  and  wide  apart,  the  presence 
of  the  Moriscoes  was  sure  to  be  revealed  by  the  more  minute  and  elaborate 
culture  of  the  soil, — as  the  secret  course  of  the  mountain  stream  is  betrayed 
by  the  brighter  green  of  the  meadow.  With  their  skill  in  husbandry  they 
combined  a  familiarity  with  various  kinds  of  handicraft,  especially  those  re- 
quiring dexterity  and  fineness  of  execution,  that  was  unknown  to  the  Spaniards. 
As  the  natural  result  of  this  superiority,  the  products  of  their  labour  were 
more  abundant  and  could  be  afforded  at  a  cheaper  rate  than  those  of  their 
neighbours.  Yet  this  industry  was  exerted  under  every  disadvantage  which  a 
most  cruel  legislation  could  impose  on  it.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  in  the 
pages  of  history  a  more  flagrant  example  of  the  oppression  of  a  conquered 


604  REBELLION  OF  THE  MORISCOES. 

race  than  that  afforded  by  the  laws  of  this  period  in  reference  to  the  Moriscoes. 
The  odious  law  of  1566,  which  led  to  the  insurrection,  was  put  in  full  force. 
By  this  the  national  songs  and  dances,  the  peculiar  baths  of  the  Moriscoes,  the 
fetes  and  ceremonies  which  had  come  down  to  them  from  their  ancestors,  were 
interdicted  under  heavy  penalties.  By  another  ordinance,  dated  October  6th, 
1572,  still  more  cruel  and  absurd,  they  were  forbidden  to  speak  or  to  write  the 
Arabic,  under  penalty  of  thirty  days'  imprisonment  in  irons  for  the  first  offence, 
double  that  term  for  the  second,  and  for  the  third  a  hundred  lashes  and  four 
years'  confinement  in  the  galleys.  By  another  monstrous  provision  in  the  same 
edict,  whoever  read,  or  even  had  in  his  possession,  a  work  written  or  printed 
in  the  Arabic,  was  to  be  punished  with  a  hundred  stripes  and  four  years  in  the 
galleys.  Any  contract  or  public  instrument  made  in  that  tongue  was  to  be 
void,  and  the  parties  to  it  were  condemned  to  receive  two  hundred  lashes  and 
to  tug  at  the  oar  for  six  years.41 

But  the  most  oppressive  part  of  this  terrible  ordinance  related  to  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Moriscoes.  No  one  was  allowed  to  change  his  abode,  or  to  leave 
the  parish  or  district  assigned  to  him,  without  permission  from  the  regular 
authorities.  Whoever  did  so,  and  was  apprehended  beyond  these  limits,  was 
to  be  punished  with  a  hundred  lashes  and  four  years'  imprisonment  in  the 
galleys.  Should  he  be  found  within  ten  leagues  of  Granada,  he  was  condemned, 
if  between  ten  and  seventeen  years  of  age,  to  toil  as  a  galley-slave  the  rest  of 
his  days  ;  if  above  seventeen,  he  was  sentenced  to  death  ! 4*  On  the  escape  of 
a  Morisco  from  his  limits,  the  hue  and  cry  was  to  be  raised  as  for  the  pursuit 
of  a  criminal.  Even  his  own  family  were  required  to  report  his  absence  to  the 
magistrate ;  and  in  case  of  their  failure  to  do  this,  although  it  should  be  his 
wife  or  his  children,  says  the  law,  they  incurred  the  penalty  of  a  whipping  and 
a  month's  imprisonment  in  the  common  jail.4* 

Yet  in  the  face  of  these  atrocious  enactments  we  find  the  Moriscoes  occa- 
sionally making  then*  escape  into  the  province  of  Valencia,  where  numbers  of 
their  countrymen  were  living  as  serfs  on  the  estates  of  the  great  nobles,  under 
whose  powerful  protection  they  enjoyed  a  degree  of  comfort,  if  not  of  inde- 
pendence, unknown  to  their  race  in  other  parts  of  the  country.  Some  few 
also,  finding  their  way  to  the  coast,  succeeded  in  crossing  the  sea  to  Barbary. 
The  very  severity  of  the  law  served  in  some  measure  to  defeat  its  execution. 
Indeed,  Philip,  in  more  than  one  instance  in  which  he  deemed  that  the  edicts 
pressed  too  heavily  on  his  Moorish  vassals,  judged  it  expedient  to  mitigate  the 
penalty,  or  even  to  dispense  with  it  altogether, — an  act  of  leniency  which 
seems  to  have  found  little  favour  with  his  Castilian  subjects.44 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  under  this  iron  system  the  spirits  of  the  Moriscoes, 
which  had  been  crushed  by  their  long  sufferings  in  the  war  of  the  rebellion, 
gradually  rose  again  as  they  found  a  shelter  in  their  new  homes  and  resumed 
their  former  habits  of  quiet  industry.  Though  deprived  of  their  customary 
amusements,  their  fetes,  their  songs,  and  their  dances,— though  debarred  from 
the  use  of  the  language  in  which  they  had  lisped  from  the  cradle,  which  em- 
bodied their  national  traditions  and  was  associated  with  their  fondest  recollec- 
tions,— they  were  said  to  be  cheerful,  and  even  gay.  They  lived  to  a  good 
age,  and  examples  of  longevity  were  found  among  them  to  which  it  was  not 

41  Nneva  Rccopilacion,  lib.  viii.  tit.  ii.  ley  que  sea  en  sus  personas  cxecutada."    Ibid., 

19.  ubi  supra. 

41  "Si  estos  tales  qne  ee  hnvieren  hnrdo,  y  "  Ibid.,  loc.  cit. 

ansentado  fueren  hallados  en  el  dicho  Reyno  **  Examples  of  this  are  cited  by  Circourt, 

de  Granada,  6  dentro  de  di»z  leguas  cercanas  Hist,  dea  Arabes  eq  Espagoe,  torn.  iii.  pp. 

a  el,  caygan  e  incurran  en  peu.i  de  miurte,  ISO,  151. 


FORTUNES  OF  THE  MORISCOES.  605 

easy  to  find  a  parallel  among  the  Spaniards.    The  Moorish  stock,  like  the 
Jewish,  seems  to  have  thriven  under  persecution.44 

One  would  be  glad  to  lind  any  authentic  data  for  an  account  of  the  actual 
population  at  the  time  of  their  expulsion  from  Granada.  But  I  have  met  with 
none.  They  must  have  been  sorely  thinned  by  the  war  of  the  insurrection  and 
the  countless  woes  it  brought  upon  the  country.  One  fact  is  mentioned  by  the 
chroniclers  which  shows  that  the  number  of  the  exiles  must  have  been  very 
considerable.  The  small  remnant  still  left  in  Granada,  with  its  lovely  vega 
and  the  valley  of  Lecrin,  alone  furnished,  we  are  told,  over  six  thousand."  In 
the  places  to  which  they  were  transported  they  continued  to  multiply  to  such 
an  extent  that  the  cortes  of  Castile,  m  the  latter  part  of  the  centxiry,  petitioned 
the  king  not  to  allow  the  census  to  be  taken,  lest  it  might  disclose  to  the 
Moriscoes  the  alarming  secret  of  their  increase  of  numbers.47  Such  a  petition 
shows,  as  strongly  as  language  can  show,  the  terror  in  which  the  Spaniards 
still  stood  of  this  persecuted  race. 

Yet  the  Moriscoes  were  scattered  over  the  country  in  small  and  isolated 
masses,  hemmed  in  all  around  by  the  Spaniards.  They  were  transplanted  to 
the  interior,  where,  at  a  distance  from  the  coast,  they  had  no  means  of  com- 
municating with-  their  brethren  of  Africa.  They  were  without  weapons  of  any 
kind ;  and,  confined  to  their  several  districts,  they  had  not  the  power  of  acting 
in  concert  together.  There  would  seem  to  have  been  little  to  fear  from  a 
people  so  situated.  But  the  weakest  individual,  who  feels  that  his  wrongs  are 
too  great  to  be  forgiven,  may  well  become  an  object  of  dread  to  the  person 
who  lias  wronged  him. 

The  course  of  the  government  in  reference  to  the  Moriscoes  was  clearly 
a  failure.  It  was  as  impolitic  as  it  was  barbarous.  Nothing  but  the  blindest 
fanaticism  could  have  prevented  the  Spaniards  from  perceiving  this.  The 
object  of  the  government  had  been  to  destroy  every  vestige  of  nationality  in 
the  conquered  race.  They  were  compelled  to  repudiate  their  ancient  usages, 
their  festivals,  their  religion,  their  language, — all  that  gave  them  a  separate 
existence  as  a  nation.  But  this  served  only  to  strengthen  in  secret  the  senti- 
ment of  nationality.  They  were  to  be  divorced  for  ever  from  the  past  But  it 
was  the  mistake  of  the  government  that  it  opened  to  them  no  future.  Having 
destroyed  their  independence  as  a  nation,  it  should  have  offered  them  the 
rights  of  citizenship  and  raised  them  to  an  equality  with  the  rest  of  the  com 
nmnity.  Such  was  the  policy  of  ancient  Rome  towards  the  nations  which  she 
conquered ;  and  such  has  been  that  of  our  own  country  towards  the  countless 
emigrants  who  have  thronged  to  our  shores  from  so  many  distant  lands.  The 
Moriscoes,  on  the  contrary,  under  the  policy  of  Spain,  were  condemned  to 
exist  as  foreigners  in  the  country. — as  enemies  in  the  midst  of  the  community 
into  which  they  were  thrown.  Experience  had  taught  them  prudence  and 
dissimulation ;  and  in  all  outward  observances  they  conformed  to  the  exactions 
of  the  law.  But  in  secret  they  were  as  much  attached  to  their  national 
institutions  as  were  their  ancestors  when  the  caliphs  of  Cordova  ruled  over 
half  the  Peninsula.  The  Inquisition  rarely  gleaned  an  apostate  from  among 
them  to  swell  the  horrors  of  an  auto  de  Je  ;  but  whoever,  recalls  the  facility 
with  which,  in  the  late  rebellion,  the  whole  population  had  relapsed  into  their 
ancient  faith,  will  hardly  doubt  that  they  must  liave  still  continued  to  be 
Mahometans  at  heart. 

'•  Clrcourt,  Hist.  <les  Arabea  eii  Knpagno,  **  Ferreraa,  Hlrt.  d'Espagne,  torn.  x.  p.  227. 

tout.   ill.    p.    163. -.M.  de  t'irriiurt  ban  col-  •'  "  IU  reprenenterent  que  ce  tecensement 

Ic-ctxl,   frjiu  Dome  authentic  and.  not  very  allait  leur  reveler  le  secret  de  leur  nombre 

at-cpiwiltle  Bourci'n,  much  curioun  InCorniAtiuu  effr.iyant     qu'llt     foumiillaient."     Clrcourt, 

relative  to  this  part  of  lilg  subject.  Hist,  dcs  Arabca  en  Espogne,  toin.  HI.  p  164. 


~06 


MARMOL. 


Thus  the  gulf  which  separated  the  two  races  grew  wider  and  wider  every  daj 
The  Moriscoes  hated  the  Spaniards  for  the  wrongs  which  they  had  receiver, 
from  them.  The  Spaniards  hated  the  Moriscoes  the  more  that  they  had 
themselves  inflicted  these  wrongs.  Their  hatred  was  further  embittered  by 
the  feeling  of  jealousy  caused  by  the  successful  competition  of  their  rivals  in  the 
Carious  pursuits  of  gain, — a  circumstance  which  forms  a  fruitful  theme  of 
complaint  in  the  petition  of  the  cortes  above  noticed.4*  The  feeling  of  hate 
became  in  time  mingled  with  that  of  fear,  as  the  Moriscoes  increased  in  opu- 
lence and  numbers ;  and  men  are  not  apt  to  be  over-scrupulous  in \heir  policy 
towards  those  whom  they  both  hate  and  fear. 

With  these  evil  passions  rankling  in  their  bosoms,  the  Spaniards  were 
gradually  prepared  for  the  consummation  of  their  long  train  of  persecutions 
oy  that  last  act,  reserved  for  the  reign  of  the  imbecile  Fhilip  the  Third, — the 
expulsion  of  the  Moriscoes  from  theTeninsula,— an  act  which  deprived  Spain 
of  the  most  industrious  and  ingenious  portion  of  her  population,  and  which 
must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  principal  causes  of  the  subsequent  decline  of 
the  monarchy. 

*•  "Qu'ils  accaparaient  tons  les  metiers,  tout  le  commerce."  Circourt,  Hist,  des  Arabcs  en 
lispagne,  luc.  cit. 


An  historian  less  renowned  than  Mendoza, 
but  of  more  importance  to  one  who  would 
acquaint  himself  with  the  story  of  the  Morisco 
rebellion,  is  Luis  del  Marmol  Cerbajal.  Little 
is  known  of  him  but  what  is  to  be  gathered 
from  brief  notices  of  himself  in  his  works. 
He  was  a  native  of  Granada,  but  we  are  not 
informed  of  the  date  of  bis  birth.  He  was  of 
a  good  family,  and  followed  the  profession  of 
arms.  When  a  mere  youth,  as  he  tells  us,  he 
was  present  at  the  famous  siege  of  Tunis,  in 
1535.  He  continued  in  the  imperial  service 
two-and-twenty  years.  Seven  years  he  was  a 
captive,  and  followed  the  victorious  banner  of 
Mohammed,  Scherif  of  Morocco,  in  his  cam- 
paigns in  the  west  of  Africa.  His  various 
fortunes  and  bis  long  residence  in  different 
parts  of  the  African  continent,  especially  in 
Barbary  and  Ef.'ypt,  supplied  him  with  abun- 
dant information  in  respect  to  the  subjects  of 
his  historical  inquiries  ;  and,  as  he  knew  the 
Arabic,  he  made  himself  acquainted  with  such 
facts  as  were  to  be  gleaned  from  books  in  that 
language.  The  fruits  of  his  study  and  obser- 
vation he  gave  to  the  world  in  his  "  Descrip- 
tion general  de  Africa,"  a  work  in  three 
volumes,  folio,  the  first  part  of  which  appeared 
at  Granada  in  1573.  The  remainder  was  not 
published  till  the  close  of  the  century. 

The  book  obtained  a  high  reputation  for  its 
author,  who  was  much  commended  for  the 
fidelity  and  diligence  with  which  he  had 
pushed  his  researches  in  a  field  of  1  tiers  into 
which  the  European  scholar  had  as  yet  rarely 
ventured  to  penetrate. 

In  the  year  1600  appeared,  at  Malaga,  bis 
second  work,  the  "Aitlori'i  del  Rebelion  y 
Castigo  de  los  Morisco-;  del  fieyno  de  Gra- 
nada," in  one  volume,  folio.  For  the  compo- 
sition of  this  history  the  author  was  admirably 
qualified,  not  only  by  his  familiarity  with  all 
that  related  to  the  character  and  condition  of 


the  Moriscoes,  but  by  the  part  which  he  had 
personally  taken  in  the  war  of  the  insurrection. 
He  held  the  office  of  commissary  in  the  royal 
army, 'and  nerved  in  that  capacity  from  the 
commencement  of  the  war  to  its  close.  In 
the  warm  colouring  of  the  narrative,  and  in 
the  minuteness  of  its  details,  we  feel  that  we 
are  reading  the  report  of  one  who  has  himself 
beheld  the  scenes  which  he  describes.  Indeed, 
the  interest  which,  as  an  actor,  be  naturally 
takes  in  the  operations  of  the  war,  leads  to  an 
amount  of  ditail  which  may  well  be  con- 
demned as  a  blemish  by  those  who  do  not  feel 
a  similar  interest  in  the  particulars  of  the 
struggle.  But  if  bis  style  have  somewhat  of 
the  rambling,  discursive  manner  of  the  old 
Castilian  chronicler,  it  has  a  certain  elegance 
in  the  execution,  which  brings  it  much  nearer 
to  the  standard  of  a  classic  author.  Far  from 
being  chargeable  with  the  obscurity  of  Men- 
doza, Marmol  is  uncommonly  perspicuous. 
With  a  general  facility  of  expression,  his 
language  takes  the  varied  character  suited  to 
the  theme,  sometimes  kindled  into  eloquence 
and  occasionally  soltened  into  pathos,  for 
which  the  melancholy  character  of  his  story 
afforded  too  many  occasions.  Though  loyal 
to  his  country  and  his  faith,  yet  he  shows  but 
few  gleams  of  the  fiery  intolerance  that  be- 
longed to  bis  nation,  and  especially  to  that 
portion  of  it  which  came  into  collision  with 
the  Moslems.  Indeed,  in  more  than  one  pas- 
sage of  his  work  we  may  discern  gleams  of 
that  Christian  charity  which  in  Castile  was 
the  rarest,  as  it  was,  unhappily,  the  least 
precious  of  virtues,  in  the  age  in  which  he 
lived. 

In  the  extensive  plan  adopted  by  Marmol, 
his  history  of  the  rebellion  embraces  a  pre- 
liminary notice  of  the  conquest  of  Granada, 
and  of  that  cmel  policy  of  the  conquerors 
which  led  to  the  insurrection.  The  nairative, 


LEAGUE  AGAINST  THE  TURKS. 


607 


tlms  complete,  supplied  a  most  important 
hiatus  in  the  annals  of  the  country.  Yet 
notwithstanding  its  importance  in  this  view, 
and  its  acknowledged  merit  as  a  literary  com- 
position, such  was  the  indifference  of  the 
Spaniards  to  th>  ir  national  history  that  it  was 
not  till  the  close  of  the  last  century,  in  1797, 
that  a  second  edition  of  Marmot's  work  was 
permitted  to  appear.  This  was  in  two  vol- 
umes, octavo,  from  the  press  of  Sancha,  at 
Madrid, — the  edition  used  in  the  preparation 
of  these  pages. 

The  most  comprehensive  and  by  far  the 
most  able  history  of  the  Moors  of  Spain  with 
which  I  am  acquainted  is  that  of  the  Count 
Albert  de  Circourt, — "  Uittoire  del  Arabes  en 
Kspagne."  Beginning  with  the  beginning, 
the  author  opens  his  narrative  with  the  con- 
quest of  the  Peninsula  by  the  Moslems.  He 
paints  in  glowing  colours  the  magnificent 
empire  of  the  Spanish  caliphs.  He  dwells 
with  sufficient  minuteness  on  those  inter- 
minable feuds  which,  growing  out  of  a  diver- 
sity of  races  and  tribes,  baffled  every  attempt 
at  a  permanent  consolidation  under  one  govern- 
ment. Then  comes  the  famous  war  of  Gra- 
nada, with  the  conquest  of  the  country  by  the 
"Catholic  Kings  ;  "  and  the  work  closes  with 
the  sad  tale  of  the  subsequent  fortunes  of  the 
conquered  races  until  tbeir  final  expulsion 
from  the  Peninsula.  Thus  the  rapidly  shift- 
Ing  scenes  of  this  most  picturesque  drama, 
sketch-d  by  a  master's  band,  are  brought  in 
regular  succession  before  the  eye  of  the 
reader. 

In  conducting  his  long  story,  the  author, 
far  from  confining  himself  to  a  dry  record  of 
events,  diligently  explores  the  causes  of  these 


events.  He  scrutinizes  with  care  every  inch 
of  debatable  ground  which  lies  in  bis  path. 
He  enriches  his  narrative  with  copious  dis- 
quisitions on  the  condition  of  the  arts,  and 
the  progress  made  by  the  Spanish  Arabs  in 
science  and  letters,  thus  presenting  a  com- 
plete view  of  that  peculiar  civilization  which 
so  curiously  blended  together  the  character- 
istic elements  of  European  and  Oriental 
culture. 

If,  in  pursuing  his  speculations,  M.  de  Cir- 
court may  be  sometimes  thought  to  refine  too 
much,  it  cannot  lie  denied  that  they  are  dis- 
tinguished by  candour  and  by  a  philosophical 
spirit.  Even  when  we  may  differ  from  his 
conclusions,  we  must  allow  that  they  are  the 
result  of  careful  study  and  display  an  inde- 
pendent way  of  thinking.  I  may  regret  that 
in  one  important  instance — the  policy  of  the 
government  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella — he 
should  have  been  led  to  dissent  from  the 
opinions  which  1  had  expressed  in  my  history 
of  those  sovereigns.  It  is  possible  that  the 
predilection  which  the  writer,  whether  his- 
torian or  novelist,  naturally  feels  for  his  hero 
when  his  conduct  affords  any  ground  for  it, 
may  have  sometimes  seduced  me  from  the 
strict  line  of  impartiality  in  my  estimate  of 
character  and  motives  of  action.  I  see,  how- 
ever, no  reason  to  change  the  conclusions  at 
which  I  had  arrived  after  a  careful  study  of 
the  subject.  Yet  I  cannot  deny  that  the 
labours  of  the  French  historian  have  shed  a 
light  upon  more  than  one  obscure  passage  in 
the  administration  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 
for  which  the  student  of  Spanish  history  owes 
him  a  debt  of  gratitude. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

League  against  the  Turks— Preparations  for  the  War — Don  John  Commander-in-Chlef—  His 
Keception  at  Naples — His  Departure  from  Messina. 

1570-1571. 

WHILE  Philip  was  occupied  with  the  Morisco  insurrection,  his  attention  was 
called  to  another  quarter,  where  a  storm  was  gathering  that  menaced  Spain  in 
common  with  the  rest  of  Christendom.  In  1566,  Solyman  the  Magnificent 
closed  his  long  and  prosperous  reign.  His  son  and  successor,  Selim  the  Second, 
possessed  few  of  the  qualities  of  his  great  father.  Bred  in  the  seraglio,  he 
showed  the  fruits  of  his  education  in  his  indolent  way  of  life  and  in  the  free 
indulgence  of  the  most  licentious  appetites.  With  these  effeminate  tastes,  he 
inherited  the  passion  for  conquest  which  belonged  not  only  to  his  father,  but 
to  the  whole  of  his  warlike  dynasty.  Not  that,  like  them,  he  headed  his 
armies  in  the  field.  These  were  led  by  valiant  commanders,  who  had  learned 
the  art  of  war  under  Solyman.  Selim  was,  above  all,  fortunate  in  possessing 


608  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

for  his  grand  vizier  a  minister  whose  untiring  industry  and  remarkable  talents 
for  business  enabled  him  to  bear  on  his  own  shoulders  the  whole  burden  of 
government.  It  was  fortunate  for  the  state,  as  well  as  for  the  sultan,  that 
Mahomet  had  the  art  to  win  the  confidence  of  his  master  and  to  maintain  it 
unshaken  through  the  whole  of  his  reign. 

The  scheme  which  most  occupied  the  thoughts  of  Selim  was  the  conquest  of 
Cyprus.  This  island,  to  which  Nature  had  been  so  prodigal  of  her  gifts, 
belonged  to  Venice.  Yet,  placed  at  the  extremity  of  the  Mediterranean,  it 
seemed  in  a  manner  to  command  the  approaches  to  the  Dardanelles,  while  its 
line  of  coast  furnished  convenient  ports,  from  which  swarms  of  cruisers  might 
sally  forth  in  time  of  war  and  plunder  the  Turkish  commerce. 

Selim,  resolved  on  the  acquisition  of  Cyprus,  was  not  slow  in  devising  a 
pretext  for  claiming  it  from  Venice  as  a  part  of  the  Ottoman  empire.  The 
republic,  though  willing  to  make  almost  any  concession  rather  than  come  to  a 
rupture  with  the  colossal  power  under  whose  shadow  she  lay,  was  not  prepared 
to  surrender  without  a  struggle  the  richest  gem  in  her  colonial  diadem.  War 
was  accordingly  declared  against  her  by  the  Porte,  and  vast  preparations  were 
made  for  fitting  out  an  armament  against  Cyprus.  Venice,  in  her  turn, 
showed  her  usual  alacrity  in  providing  for  the  encounter.  She  strained  her 
resources  to  the  utmost.  In  a  very  snort  time  she  equipped  a  powerful  fleet, 
and  took  measures  to  place  the  fortifications  of  Cyprus  in  a  proper  state  of 
defence.  But  Venice  no  longer  boasted  a  navy  such  as  in  earlier  days  had 
enabled  her  to  humble  the  pride  of  Genoa  and  to  ride  the  unquestioned 
mistress  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  defences  of  her  colonies,  moreover,  during 
her  long  repose,  had  gradually  fallen  into  decay.  In  her  extremity,  she  turned 
to  the  Christian  powers  of  Europe,  and  besought  them  to  make  common  cause 
with  her  against  the  enemy  of  Christendom. 

Fortunately,  the  chair  of  St.  Peter  was  occupied,  at  this  crisis,  by  Pius  the 
Fifth,  one  of  those  pontiffs  who  seem  to  have  been  called  forth  by  the  exigen- 
cies of  the  time,  to  uphold  the  pillars  of  Catholicism  as  they  were  yet  trembling 
under  the  assaults  of  Luther.  Though  he  was  near  seventy  years  of  age,  the 
fire  of  youth  still  glowed  in  his  veins.  He  possessed  all  that  impetuous  elo- 
quence which,  had  he  lived  in  the  days  of  Peter  the  Hermit,  would  have 
enabled  him,  like  that  enthusiast,  to  rouse  the  nations  of  Europe  to  a  crusade 
against  the  infidel.  But  the  days  of  the  crusades  were  past ;  and  a  summons 
from  the  Vatican  had  no  longer  the  power  to  stir  the  souls  of  men  like  a  voice 
from  heaven.  The  great  potentates  of  Europe  were  too  intent  on  their  own 
selfish  schemes  to  be  turned  from  these  by  the  apprehension  of  a  danger  so 
remote  as  that  which  menaced  them  from  the  East.  The  forlorn  condition  of 
Venice  had  still  less  power  to  move  them ;  and  that  haughty  republic  was 
now  made  to  feel,  in  the  hour  of  her  distress,  how  completely  her  perfidious 
and  unscrupulous  policy  had  estranged  from  her  the  sympathies  of  her 
neighbours. 

There  was  one  monarch,  however,  who  did  not  close  his  ears  against  the 
appeal  of  Venice, — and  that  monarch  one  of  more  importance  to  her  cause 
than  any  other,  perhaps  all  others  united.  In  the  spring  of  1570,  Luigi  Torres, 
clerk  of  the  apostolic  chamber,  was  sent  to  Spain  by  Pius  the  Fifth  to  plead 
the  cause  of  the  republic.  He  found  the  king  at  Ecija,  on  the  route  from 
Cordova,  where  he  had  been  for  some  time  presiding  over  a  meeting  of  the 
cortes.  The  legate  was  graciously  received  by  Philip,  to  whom  he  presented 
a  letter  from  his  holiness,  urging  the  monarch,  in  the  most  earnest  and  eloquent 
language,  to  give  succour  to  Venice  and  to  unite  with  her  in  a  league  against 
the  infidel  Philip  did  not  hesitate  to  promise  his  assistance  in  the  present 


LEAGUE  AGAINST  THE  TURKS.  609 

emergency ;  but  he  had  natural  doubts  as  to  the  expediency  of  binding  him- 
self by  a  league  with  a  power  on  whose  good  faith  he  had  little  reliance.  He 
postponed  his  decision  until  his  arrival  at  Seville.  Accompanied  by  the  legate, 
on  the  first  of  May  he  made  his  solemn  entry  into  the  great  commercial  capital 
of  the  South.  It  was  his  first  visit  there,  and  he  was  received  with  tumultuous 
joy  by  the  loyal  inhabitants.  Loyalty  to  their  monarchs  has  ever  been  a 
predominant  trait  of  the  Spaniards ;  and  to  none  of  their  princes  did  they  ever 
show  it  in  larger  measure  than  to  Philip  the  Second.  No  one  of  them,  cer- 
tainly,twas  more  thoroughly  Spanish  in  his  own  nature,  or  more  deeply  attached 
to  Spain. 

After  swearing  to  respect  the  privileges  of  the  city,  the  king  received  the 
homage  of  the  authorities.  He  then  rode  through  the  streets  under  a  gorgeous 
canopy  upheld  by  the  principal  magistrates,  and  visited  the  churches  and 
monasteries,  hearing  Te  Deum,  and  offering  up  his  prayers  in  the  cathedral. 
He  was  attended  by  a  gay  procession  of  nobles  and  cavaliers,  while  the  streets 
of  the  populous  city  were  thronged  with  multitudes,  filled  with  enthusiasm  at 
the  presence  of  their  sovereign.  By  this  loyal  escort  Philip  was  accompanied 
to  the  place  of  his  residence,  the  royal  alcazar  of  Seville.  Here  he  prolonged  his 
stay  for  a  fortnight,  witnessing  the  shows  and  festivals  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  his  entertainment.  At  his  departure  he  received  a  more  substantial 
proof  of  the  attachment  of  the  citizens,  in  a  donation  of  six  hundred  thousand 
ducats.  The  object  of  this  magnificent  present  was  to  defray  in  part  the 
expenses  of  the  king's  approaching  marriage  with  his  fourth  wife,  Anne  of 
Austria,  the  daughter  of  nis  cousin,  the  Emperor  Maximilian.  The  fair  young 
bride  had  left  her  father's  court,  and  was  already  on  her  way  to  Madrid,  where 
her  nuptials  were  to  be  celebrated,  and  where  she  was  to  take  the  place  of  the 
lovely  Isabella,  whose  death,  not  two  years  since,  had  plunged  the  nation 
into  mourning.1 

While  at  Seville,  Philip  laid  the  subject  of  the  league  before  his  ministers. 
Some  of  these,  and  among  the  number  Espinosa,  president  of  the  council  of 
Castile,  entertained  great  doubts  as  to  the  policy  of  binding  Spain  by  a  formal 
treaty  with  the  Venetian  republic.  But,  with  all  his  distrust  of  that  power, 
Philip  took  a  broader  view  of  the  matter  than  his  ministers.  Independently 
of  his  willingness  to  present  himself  before  the  world  as  the  great  champion 
of  the  Faith,  he  felt  that  such  an  alliance  offered  the  best  opportunity  for 
crippling  the  maritime  power  of  Turkey  and  thus  providing  for  the  safety  of 
his  own  colonial  possessions  in  the  Mediterranean.  After  much  deliberation, 
he  dismissed  the  legate  with  the  assurance  that,  notwithstanding  the  troubles 
which  pressed  on  him  both  in  the  Low  Countries  and  in  Granada,  he  would 
f  nrnLsh  immediate  succours  to  Venice,  and  would  send  commissioners  to  Rome, 
with  full  powers  to  unite  with  those  of  the  pope  and  the  republic  in  forming  a 
treaty  of  alliance  against  the  Ottoman  Porte.  The  papal  envoy  was  charged 
with  a  letter  to  the  same  effect,  addressed  by  Philip  to  his  holiness. 

The  ensuing  summer,  the  royal  admiral,  the  famous  John  Andrew  Doria, 
who  was  lying  with  a  strong  squadron  off  Sicily,  put  to  sea,  by  the  king's 
orders.  He  was  soon  after  reinforced  by  a  few  galleys  which  were  furnished 
by  his  holiness  and  placed  under  the  command  of  Mark  Antonio  Colonna,  the 
representative  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  illustrious  houses  in  Rome.  On 

1  Ferreraa,   Hint.  d'Kspagne,    torn.   x.   pp.  place  among  the  great  commercial  capitals  of 

239,  240.—- Cabrera,  Killpe  Segundo,  p.  641.—  Chrlmendnm   In   the  sixteenth  century.      It 

Zufilga,  ArialfR  de  Seviila,  pp.  536-538. — The  was  a  common  saying,— 
chroniclers    paint     in    glowing  colours    the  ..  o,  .       ,.     ,  -     ... 

spl.-n.loun  of  the  royal  rec-pllon  at  Seville,  £"'?"  "?  "V"1'      *™» 

»lik-li.  enriched  l.y  tic  Indian  trad-,  took  It!  No  lul  VISt°  "  u"ravllu- 

2   R 


610  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

the  last  of  Aiigust,  1570,  the  combined  fleet  effected  its  junction  with  the 
Venetians  at  Candia,  and  a  plan  of  operations  was  immediately  arranged. 
It  was  not  long  before  the  startling  intelligence  arrived  that  Nicosia,  the 
capital  of  Cyprus,  had  been  taken  and  sacked  by  the  Turks,  with  all  the 
circumstances  of  cruelty  which  distinguish  wars  in  which  the  feeling  of 
national  hostility  is  embittered  by  religious  hatred.  The  plan  was  now  to 
be  changed.  A  dispute  arose  among  the  commanders  as  to  the  course  to 
be  pursued.  No  one  had  authority  enough  to  enforce  compliance  with  his 
own  opinion.  The  dispute  ended  in  a  rupture.  The  expedition  was  aban- 
doned ;  and  the  several  commanders  returned  home  with  their  squa'drons, 
without  having  struck  a  blow  for  the  cause.  It  was  a  bad  omen  for  the  success 
of  the  league.2 

Still,  the  stout-hearted  pontiff  was  not  discouraged.  On  the  contrary,  he 
endeavoured  to  infuse  his  own  heroic  spirit  into  the  hearts  of  his  allies,  giving 
them  the  most  cheering  assurances  for  the  future  if  they  would  but  be  true  to 
themselves.  Philip  did  not  need  this  encouragement.  Once  resolved,  his  was 
not  a  mind  lightly  to  be  turned  from  its  purpose.  Venice,  on  the  other  hand, 
soon  showed  that  the  Catholic  king  had  good  reason  for  distrusting  her 
fidelity.  Appalled  by  the  loss  of  Nicosia,  with  her  usual  inconstancy,  she 
despatched  a  secret  agent  to  Constantinople  to  see  if  some  terms  might  not 
yet  be  made  with  the  sultan.  The  negotiation  could  not  be  managed  so 
secretly,  however,  but  that  notice  of  it  reached  the  ears  of  Pius  the  Fifth. 
He  forthwith  despatched  an  envoy  to  the  republic  to  counteract  this  measure 
and  to  persuade  tne  Venetians  to  trust  to  their  Christian  allies  rather  than  to 
the  Turks,  the  enemies  of  their  country  and  their  religion.  The  person 
selected  for  this  mission  was  Colonna,  who  was  quite  as  much  distinguished 
for  his  address  as  for  his  valour.  He  performed  his  task  well.  He  represented 
so  forcibly  to  the  government  that  the  course  he  recommended  was  the  one 
dictated  not  less  by  interest  than  by  honour,  that  they  finally  acquiesced,  and 
recalled  their  agent  from  Constantinople.  It-  must  be  acknowledged  that 
Colon  na's  arguments  were  greatly  strengthened  by  the  cold  reception  given  to 
the  Venetian  envoy  at  Constantinople,  where  it  was  soon  seen  that  the  con- 
quest of  the  capital  had  by  no  means  tended  to  make  the  sultan  relax  his  hold 
on  Cyprus.* 

Towards  the  close  of  1570,  the  deputies  from  the  three  powers  met  in  Rome 
to  arrange  the  terms  of  the  league.  Spain  was  represented  by  the  Cardinals 
Granvelle  and  Pacheco,  together  with  the  ambassador.  Juan  de  Zufiiga,  all 
three  at  that  time  being  resident  in  Rome.  It  will  readily  be  believed  that  the 
interests  of  Spain  would  not  suffer  in  the  hands  of  a  commission  with  so 
skilful  a  tactician  as  Granvelle  to  direct  it. 

Yet,  though  the  parties  seemed  to  be  embarked  in  a  common  cause,  there 
was  found  much  difficulty  in  reconciling  their  different  pretensions.  The 
deputies  from  Venice,  in  the  usual  spirit  of  her  diplomacy,  regarded  the  league 
as  exclusively  designed  for  her  benefit,— in  other  words,  for  the  protection  of 
Cyprus  against  the  Turks.  The  Spanish  commissioners  took  a  wider  view, 
and  talked  of  the  war  as  one  waged  by  the  Christian  against  the  Infidel, — 
against  the  Moors  no  less  than  the  Turks.  In  this  politic  view  of  the  matter, 
the  Catholic  king  was  entitled  to  the  same  protection  for  his  colonies  on  the 
coast  of  Africa  as  Venice  claimed  for  Cyprus. 

Another  cause  of  disagreement  was  the  claim  of  each  of  the  parties  to  select 

3  Herrera,  H  storia  general,  torn.  i.  p.  798,  '  Cabrera,  Filipe  Sogundo,  p.  667.— Sagredo, 

et  seq.— Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  vi.  cap.        Monarcas  Othomanos,  p.  277. 
17.— Sagredo,  Monarcas  Othomanos,  p.  277. 


LEAGUE  AGAINST  THE  TURKS.  611 

a  commander-in  chief  for  the  expedition  from  its  own  nation.  This  pre- 
eminence was  finally  conceded  to  Spain,  as  the  power  that  was  to  bear  the 
largest  share  of  the  expenses. 

ft  was  agreed  that  the  treaty  should  be  permanent  in  its  duration,  and 
should  be  directed  against  the  Moors  of  Tunis,  Tripoli,  and  Algiers,  as  well  as 
against  the  Turks ;  that  the  contracting  parties  should  furnish  two  hundred 
galleys,  one  hundred  transports  and  smaller  vessels,  fifty  thousand  foot,  and  four 
thousand  five  hundred  horse,  with  the  requisite  artillery  and  munitions  ;  that  by 
April,  at  farthest,  of  every  succeeding  year,  a  similar  force  should  be  held  in 
readiness  by  the  allies  for  expeditions  to  the  Levant ;  and  that  any  year  in  which 
there  was  no  expedition  in  common,  and  either  Spain  or  the  republic  should 
desire  to  engage  in  one  on  her  own  account  against  the  infidel,  the  other  confede- 
rates should  furnish  fifty  galleys  towards  it ;  that  if  the  enemy  should  invade 
the  dominions  of  any  of  the  three  powers,  the  others  should  be  bound  to  come 
to  the  aid  of  their  ally  ;  that  three-sixths  of  the  expenses  of  the  war  should  be 
borne  by  the  Catholic  King,  two-sixths  by  the  republic,  the  remaining  sixth 
by  the  Holy  See ;  that  the  Venetians  should  lend  his  holiness  twelve  galleys, 
which  he  was  to  man  and  equip  at  his  own  charge,  as  his  contribution  towards 
the  armament ;  that  each  power  should  appoint  a  captain-general ;  that  the 
united  voices  of  the  three  commanders  should  regulate  the  plan  of  operations ; 
that  the  execution  of  this  plan  should  be  intrusted  to  the  captain-general  of 
the  league,  and  that  this  high  office  should  be  given  to  Don  John  of  Austria  ; 
that,  finally,  no  one  of  the  parties  should  make  peace,  or  enter  into  a  truce 
with  the  enemy,  without  the  knowledge  and  consent  of  the  others.4 

Such  were  the  principal  provisions  of  the  famous  treaty  of  the  Holy  League. 
The  very  first  article  declares  this  treaty  perpetual  in  its  nature.  Yet  we 
should  be  slow  to  believe  that  the  shrewd  and  politic  statesmen  who  directed 
the  affairs  of  Spain  and  the  republic  could  for  a  moment  believe  in  the  per- 
petuity of  a  contract  which  imposed  such  burdensome  obligations  on  the 
parties.  In  fact,  the  league  did  not  hold  together  two  years.  But  it  held 
together  long  enough  to  accomplish  a  great  result,  and  as  such  occupies  an 
important  place  in  the  history  of  the  times. 

Although  a  draft  of  the  treaty  had  been  prepared  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
preceding  year,  it  was  not  ratified  till  1571.s  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  May 
the  pope  caused  it  to  be  read  aloud  in  full  consistory.  He  then,  laying  his 
hana  on  his  breast,  solemnly  swore  to  the  observance  of  it.  The  ambassadors 
of  Spain  and  Venice  made  oath  to  the  same  effect,  on  behalf  of  their  govern- 
ments, placing  their  hands  on  a  missal  with  a  copy  of  the  Gospels  beneath  it 
On  the  day  following,  after  mass  had  been  performed  the  treaty  was  publicly 
proclaimed  in  the  church  of  St.  Peter.4 

The  tidings  of  the  alliance  of  the  three  powers  caused  a  great  sensation 
throughout  Christendom.  Far  from  dismaying  the  sultan,  however,  it  only 
stimulated  him  to  greater  exertions.  Availing  himself  of  the  resources  of  his 
vast  empire,  he  soon  got  together  a  powerful  fleet,  partly  drawn  from  his 
own  dominions,  and  in  part  from  those  of  the  Moslem  powers  on  the  Medi- 
terranean, who  acknowledged  allegiance  to  the  Porte.  The  armada  was 
placed  under  the  command  of  Selim's  brother-in-law,  the  Pacha  Piali,  a  man 

4  A  copy  of  the  treaty,   in  Latin,  dated  '  A  copy  from  the  first  draft  of  the  treaty, 

May  2&th,  1571,  exists  iu  the  library  of  tbe  as  prepared  in   1570.  is  incorporated  in   the 

Academy    of   History,    at    Madrid.       Senor  Docuincntoe  incditos  (torn.  iil.  p.  337.  ct  «eq.). 

Riawll  hug  transferred  it  to  the  appendix  of  The  original  It  in  the  library  of  the  duke  of 

bis   work,    Historia  del    Combate   naval    dc  Outuna. 

Lrpanto  (Madrid,  1854),  pp.  180-189.  •  Kotsell,  Combate  naval  de  Lepanto,  p.  56. 


612  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

of  an  intrepid  spirit,  who  had  given  many  proofs  of  a  humane  and  generous 
nature, — qualities  more  rare  among  the  Turks,  perhaps  among  all  nations, 
than  mere  physical  courage. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1571  the  Ottoman  admiral  sailed  out  of  the  Golden 
Horn  and  directed  his  course  towards  Candia.  Here  he  remained  until  joined 
by  a  strong  Algerine  force  under  the  redoubtable  corsair,  Uluch  Ali, — a  Cala- 
brian  renegade,  who  had  risen  from  the  humblest  condition  to  the  post  of  dey 
of  Algiers.  Early  in  the  season  the  combined  fleets  sailed  for  the  Adriatic  ; 
and  Piali,  after  landing  and  laying  waste  the  territory  belonging  to  the 
republic,  detached  Uluch  with  his  squadron  to  penetrate  higher  up  the  gulf. 
The  Algerine,  in  executing  these  orders,  advanced  so  near  to  Venice  as  to 
throw  the  inhabitants  of  that  capital  into  a  consternation  such  as  they  had 
not  felt  since  the  cannon  of  the  Genoese,  two  centuries  before,  had  resounded 
over  their  waters.  But  it  was  not  the  dey's  purpose  to  engage  in  so  formi- 
dable an  enterprise  as  an  assault  upon  Venice ;  and,  soon  drawing  off,  he  joined 
the  commander-in-chief  at  Corfu,  where  they  waited  for  tidings  of  the  Chris- 
tian fleet.' 

The  indefatigable  Pius,  even  before  the  treaty  was  signed,  had  despatched 
his  nephew,  Cardinal  Alessandrino,  to  the  different  courts,  to  rouse  the 
drooping  spirits  of  the  allies  and  to  persuade  other  princes  of  Christendom  to 
join  the  league.  In  the  middle  of  May,  the  legate,  attended  by  a  stately 
train  of  ecclesiastics,  appeared  at  Madrid.  Philip  gave  him  a  reception  that 
fully  testified  his  devotion  to  the  Holy  See.  The  king's  brother,  Don  John, 
and  his  favourite  minister,  Ruy  Gomez  de  Silva,  with  some  of  the  principal 
nobles,  waited  at  once  on  the  cardinal,  who  had  taken  up  his  quarters  in  the 
suburbs,  at  the  Dominican  monastery  of  Atocha,  tenanted  by  brethren  of  his 
own  order.  On  the  following  morning  the  papal  envoy  made  his  entrance 
in  great  state  into  the  capital.  He  was  mounted  on  a  mule,  gorgeously 
caparisoned,  the  gift  of  the  city.  John  of  Austria  rode  on  his  right ;  and  he 
was  escorted  by  a  pompous  array  of  prelates  and  grandees,  who  seemed  to  vie 
with  one  another  in  the  splendour  of  their  costumes.  On  the  way  he  was  met 
by  the  royal  calvalcade.  As  the  legate  paid  his  obeisance  to  the  monarch,  he 
remained  with  his  head  uncovered  ;  and  Philip,  with  a  similar  act  of  courtesy, 
while  he  addressed  a  few  remarks  to  the  churchman,  held  his  hat  in  his  hand!8 
He  then  joined  the  procession,  riding  between  the  legate  on  the  right 
and  his  brother  on  the  left,  who  was  observed  from  time  to  time  to  take  part 
in  the  conversation,  a  circumstance  occasioning  some  surprise,  says  an  his- 
torian, as  altogether  contrary  to  the  established  etiquette  of  the  punctilious 
Castilian  court.8 

The  ceremonies  were  concluded  by  religions  services  in  the  church  of  Santa 
Maria,  where  the  legate,  after  preaching  a  discourse,  granted  all  present  a  full 
remission  of  the  pains  of  Purgatory  for  two  hundred  years.18  A  gift  of  more 
worth,  in  a  temporal  view,  was  the  grant  to  the  king  of  the  cruzadi,  the 
excusada,  and  other  concessions  of  ecclesiastical  revenue,  which  the  Roman 
see  knows  so  well  how  to  bestow  on  the  champions  of  the  Faith.  These  con- 
cessions came  in  good  time  to  supply  the  royal  coffers,  sorely  drained  by  the 
costly  preparations  for  the  war. 

'  Paruta,  Guerra  di  Cipro,  p.  120,  et  seq.  viendole,  6  por  casualidad  6  bien  de  intento, 

— Herrera,  Hist,  general,  t<>m.  11.  pp.  14,  15.  terciar  llanamente  en  la  conversacion,  contra 

•  Cabrera,  Filipe  Seuundo,  lib.  ix.  cap.  22.  las  etiquetas,   liasta    entonces    obsorvadas." 
— Ferreras,    Hist.    d'E?pagne,    torn.   x.    pp.  Resell,  Combate  naval  de  Lepant",  p.  59. 
247,    248. — Vanderhammen,    Don    Juan    de  '"  "  Y  concede  dozientos  afios  de  perdon  a 
Austria,  fol.  152.  los  prespntes." — Vanderhammen,  Don  Juan 

•  "No  poco  se  maravillaron  los  curiosos,  de  Austria,  fol.  152 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  WAR.  613 

Meanwhile,  the  Venetians  were  pushing  forward  their  own  preparations 
with  their  wonted  alacrity,— indeed,  with  more  alacrity  than  thoroughness. 
They  were  prompt  in  furnishing  their  quota  of  vessels,  but  discreditably 
remiss  in  their  manner  of  equipping  them.  The  fleet  was  placed  under  the 
charge  of  Sebastian  Veniero,  a  noble  who  had  grown  gray  in  the  service  of  his 
county.  Zanne,  who  had  had  the  command  of  the  fleet  in  the  preceding  summer, 
was  superseded  on  the  charge  of  incapacity,  shown  especially  in  his  neglect  to 
bring  the  enemy  to  action.  His  process  continued  for  two  years,  without  any 
opportunity  being  allowed  to  the  accused  of  appearing  in  his  own  vindication. 
It  was  finally  brought  to  a  close  by  his  death, — the  consequence,  as  it  is  said, 
of  a  broken  heart.  If  it  were  so,  it  would  not  be  a  solitary  instance  of  such  a 
fate  in  the  annals  of  the  stern  republic.  Before  midsummer  the  new  admiral 
sailed  with  his  fleet,  or  as  much  of  it  as  was  then  ready,  for  the  port  of  Mes- 
sina, appointed  as  the  place  of  rendezvous  for  the  allies.  Here  ne  was  soon 
ioined  by  Colonna,  the  papal  commander,  with  the  little  squadron  furnished 
by  his  holiness ;  and  the  two  fleets  lay  at  anchor,  side  by  side,  in  the  capa- 
cious harbour,  waiting  the  arrival  of  the  rest  of  the  confederates  and  of  John 
of  Austria. 

Preparations  for  the  war  were  now  going  actively  forward  in  Spain. 
Preparations  on  so  large  a  scale  had  not  been  seen  since  the  war  with  Paul 
the  Fourth  and  Henry  the  Third,  which  ushered  in  Philip's  accession.  All 
the  great  ports  in  the  Peninsula,  as  well  as  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  in 
Sicily,  in  the  Balearic  Isles,— in  every  part  of  the  empire,  in  short, — swarmed 
with  artisans,  busily  engaged  in  fitting  out  the  fleet  which  was  to  form 
Philip's  contingent  to  the  armament.  By  the  terms  of  the  treaty  he  was  to 
bear  one-half  of  the  charges  of  the  expedition.  In  his  naval  preparations  he 
spared  neither  cost  nor  care.  Ninety  royal  galleys,  and  more  than  seventy 
snips  of  smaller  dimensions,  were  got  in  readiness  in  the  course  of  the  summer. 
They  were  built  and  equipped  in  that  thorough  manner  which  vindicated  the 
pre-eminence  in  naval  architecture  claimed  by  Spain,  and  formed  a  strong 
contrast  to  the  slovenly  execution  of  the  Venetians.11 

Levies  of  troops  were  at  the  same  time  diligently  enforced  in  all  parts  of  the 
monarchy.  Even  a  corps  of  three  thousand  German  mercenaries  was  sub- 
sidized for  the  campaign.  Troops  were  drawn  from  the  veteran  garrisons  in 
Lombardy  and  the  kingdom  of  Naples.  As  the  Morisco  insurrection  was 
fortunately  quelled,  the  forces  engaged  in  it,  among  whom  were  the  brave 
Neapolitan  battalion  and  its  commander,  Padilla,  could  now  be  employed  in 
the  war  against  the  Turk. 

But  it  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  required  extraordinary  efforts  to  fill  the 
ranks  on  the  present  occasion  ;  for  seldom  had  a  war  been  so  popular  with  the 

"  "  De  la*  mrj'irei  que  jamas  *e  han  time  when  Malta  was  besieged  by  the  Turks. 
tislo," — "  among  tbe  best  pulleys  that  were  The  coldness  whir  on  that  occasion  he 
ever  seen." — says  Don  Juan,  in  a  letter  appeared  to  show  to  the  besieged  excittd 
from  Messina  to  Don  Garcia  de  Toledo.  general  indignation  ;  and  I  ventured  to  Mat  •, 
Documents  Ineditos,  torn.  iii.  p.  15. — The  on  an  authority  which  I  did  not  profess  to 
earlier  part  of  the  third  volume  of  the  l»ocu-  esteem  the  best,  that  in  consequence  of  this 
ment-m  inedltoe  is  taken  up  with  tbe  corre-  be  fell  into  disgrace,  and  was  suffered  to  pass 
spondence  between  John  of  Austria  and  the  remainder  of  bis  years  in  oqscurity. 
Garcia  de  Toledo,  in  which  tbe  former  asks  (Ante,  p.  438.)  An  investigation  of  docu- 
infiiniiatiiiu  and  advice  in  respect  to  the  best  ments  which  I  had  not  then  seen  shows 
mode  of  conducting  the  war.  lion  Garcia  de  this  to  have  been  an  error.  The  ample 
Toledo,  fourth  marquU  of  Vlllafranca.  was  a  correspondence  which  both  Philip  the  Second 
in  at  of  i'lgh  family  and  of  grail  sagacity  and  and  Dun  John  carried  on  with  him  gives  tin- 
experience.  He  had  filled  some  of  tlie  highest  deniable  proofs  of  the  confidence  lie  continued 
posts  in  the  government,  and,  as  the  reader  U>  enjoy  at  court,  and  the  high  defereuco 
may  remember,  was  viceroy  of  Sicily  at  tbe  which  was  paid  to  bis  opinion. 


614  WAR  WITH  THE  TUKKS. 

nation.  Indeed,  the  Spaniards  entered  into  it  with  an  alacrity  which  might 
well  have  suggested  the  idea  that  their  master  had  engaged  in  it  on  his  own 
account  rather  than  as  an  ally.  It  was  in  truth  a  war  that  appealed  in  a 
peculiar  manner  to  the  sensibilities  of  the  Castilian,  familiar  from  his  cradle 
with  the  sound  of  the  battle-cry  against  the  infidel.  The  whole  number  of 
infantry  raised  by  the  confederates  amounted  to  twenty-nine  thousand.  Of 
this  number  Spain  alone  sent  over  nineteen  thousand  well-appointed  troops, 
comprehending  numerous  volunteers,  many  of  whom  belonged  to  the  noblest 
houses  of  the  Peninsula.12 

On  the  sixth  of  June,  Don  John,  after  receiving  the  last  instructions  of  his 
brother,  set  out  from  Madrid  on  his  journey  to  the  south.  Besides  his  own 
private  establishment,  making  a  numerous  train,  he  was  escorted  by  a  splendid 
company  of  lords  and  cavaliers,  eager  to  share  with  him  in  the  triumphs  of  the 
Cross.  Anxious  to  reach  the  goal,  he  pushed  forward  at  a  more  rapid  rate 
than  was  altogether  relished  by  the  rest  of  the  cavalcade.  Yet,  notwithstand- 
ing this  speed  on  the  road,  there  were  matters  that  claimed  his  attention  in 
the  towns  through  which  he  passed,  that  occasioned  some  delay.  His  journey 
had  the  appearance  of  a  royal  progress.  The  castles  of  the  great  lords  were 
thrown  open  with  princely  hospitality  to  receive  him  and  his  suite.  In  the 
chief  cities,  as  Saragossa  and  Barcelona,  he  was  entertained  by  the  viceroys 
with  all  the  pomp  and  ceremony  that  could  have  been  shown  to  the  king  him- 
self. He  remained  some  days  in  the  busy  capital  of  Catalonia,  and  found 
there  much  to  engage  his  attention  in  the  arsenals  and  dock-yards,  now 
alive  with  the  bustle  of  preparation.  He  then  made  a  brief  pilgrimage  to  the 
neighbouring  Hermitage  of  Our  Lady  of  Montserrat,  where  he  paid  his 
devotions,  and  conversed  with  the  holy  fathers,  whom  he  had  always  deeply 
reverenced,  and  had  before  visited  in  their  romantic  solitudes. 

Embarking  at  Barcelona,  he  set  sail  with  a  squadron  of  more  than  thirty 
galleys, — a  force  strong  enough  to  guard  against  the  Moslem  corsairs  in  the 
Mediterranean,  and  landed,  on  the  twenty-fifth,  at  Genoa.  The  doge  and 
the  senate  came  out  to  welcome  him,  and  he  was  lodged  during  his  stay  in 
the  palace  of  Andrew  Doria.  Here  he  received  embassies  and  congratulatory 
addresses  from  the  different  princes  of  Italy.  He  had  already  been  greeted 
with  an  autograph  letter,  couched  in  the  most  benignant  terms,  from  the 
sovereign  pontifi.  To  all  these  communications  Don  John  was  careful  to 
reply.  He  acquainted  his  holiness,  in  particular,  with  the  whole  course  of  his 
proceedings.  While  on  the  way  he  had  received  a  letter  from  his  brother, 
giving  him  a  full  catalogue  of  the  appropriate  titles  by  which  each  one  of  his 
correspondents  should  be  addressed.  Nor  was  this  list  confined  to  crowned 
heads,  but  comprehended  nobles  and  cavaliers  of  every  degree."  In  no 
country  has  the  perilous  code  of  etiquette  been  more  diligently  studied  than 
in  Spain  ;  and  no  Spaniard  was  better  versed  in  it  than  Philip. 

Pursuing  his  route  by  ater,  Don  John,  in  the  month  of  August,  dropped 
anchor  in  the  beautiful  bay  of  Naples.  Arrangements  had  been  made  in  that 
city  for  his  reception  on  a  more  magnificent  scale  than  any  he  had  witnessed 
on  his  journey.  Granvelle,  who  had  lately  been  raised  to  the  post  of  viceroy, 
came  forth,  at  the  head  of  a  long  and  brilliant  procession,  to  welcome  his  royal 
guest.  The  houses  that  lined  the  streets  were  hung  with  richly-tinted  tapes- 
tries and  gayly  festooned  with  flowers.  The  windows  and  verandas  were 

"  Authorities  differ,  as  usual,  as  to  the  "  Vanderhammen    has     been   careful    to 

precise  number  both  of  Teasels  and  troops.  transcribe    this    precious    catalogue.      Don 

I  have  accepted  the  estimate  of  Resell,  who  Juau  de  Austria,  fol.  156,  et  seq. 
discreetly  avoids  the  extremes  on  either  side. 


RECEPTION  AT  NAPLES.  615 

graced  with  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  that  pleasure-loving  capital ;  and  many 
a  dark  eye  sparkled  as  it  gazed  on  the  fine  form  and  features  of  the  youthful 
hero  who  at  the  age  of  twenty-four  had  come  to  Italy  to  assume  the  baton  of 
command  and  lead  the  crusade  against  the  Moslems.  His  splendid  dress  of 
white  velvet  and  cloth  of  gold  set  off  his  graceful  person  to  advantage.  A 
crimson  scarf  floated  loosely  over  his  breast ;  and  his  snow-white  plumes, 
drooping  from  his  cap,  mingled  with  the  yellow  curls  that  fell  in  profusion 
over  his  shoulders.  It  was  a  picture  which  the  Italian  maiden  might  love  to 
look  on.  It  was  certainly  not  the  picture  of  the  warrior  sheathed  in  the  iron 
panoply  of  war.  But  the  young  prince,  in  his  general  aspect,  might  be  re- 
lieved from  the  charge  of  effeminacy  by  his  truly  chivalrous  bearing  and  the 
dauntless  spirit  which  beamed  from  his  clear  blue  eye.  In  his  own  lineaments 
he  seemed  to  combine  all  that  was  most  comely  in  the  lineaments  of  his  race. 
Fortunately,  he  had  escaped  the  deformity  of  the  heavy  Burgundian  lip, 
which  he  might  perhaps  have  excused,  as  establishing  his  claims  to  a  descent 
from  the  imperial  house  of  Hapsburg.14 

Don  John  had  found  no  place  more  busy  with  preparations  for  the  cam- 
paign than  Naples.  A  fleet  was  riding  at  anchor  in  her  bay,  ready  to  sail 
under  the  command  of  Don  Alvaro  Bazan,  first  marquis  of  Santa  Cruz,  a 
nobleman  who  had  distinguished  himself  by  more  than  one  gallant  achieve- 
ment in  the  Mediterranean,  and  who  was  rapidly  laying  the  foundations  of 
a  fame  that  was  one  day  to  eclipse  that  of  every  other  admiral  in  Castile. 

Ten  days  Don  John  remained  at  Naples,  detained  by  contrary  winds. 
Though  impatient  to  reach  Messina,  his  time  passed  lightly  amidst  the  fetes 
and  brilliant  spectacles  which  his  friendly  hosts  had  provided  for  his  enter- 
tainment. He  entered  gayly  into  the  revels  ;  for  he  was  well  skilled  in  the 
courtly  and  chivalrous  exercises  of  the  day.  Few  danced  better  than  he,  or 
rode,  or  fenced,  or  played  at  tennis  with  more  spirit  and  skill,  or  carried  off 
more  frequently  trie  prizes  of  the  tourney.  Indeed,  he  showed  as  much 
ambition  to  excel  in  the  mimic  game  of  war  as  on  the  field  of  battle.  With 
his  accomplishments  and  personal  attractions,  we  may  well  believe  that  Don 
John  had  little  reason  to  complain  of  coldness  in  the  fair  dames  of  Italy. 
But  he  seems  to  have  been  no  less  a  favourite  with  the  men.  The  young 
cavaliers,  in  particular,  regarded  him  as  the  very  mirror  of  chivalry,  and 
studiously  formed  themselves  on  him  as  their  model.  His  hair  clustered 
thickly  round  his  temples,  and  he  was  in  the  habit  of  throwing  it  back,  so  as 
to  display  his  fine  forehead  to  advantage.  This  suited  his  physiognomy.  It 
soon  became  the  mode  with  the  gallants  of  the  court ;  and  even  those  physio- 
gnomies it  did  not  suit  were  no  less  careful  to  arrange  their  hair  in  the  same 
manner. 

While  at  Naples  he  took  part  in  a  ceremony  of  an  interesting  and  signifi- 
cant character.  It  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  presentation  of  a  standard  sent 
by  Pius  the  Fifth  for  the  Holy  War.  The  ceremony  took  place  in  the  church 
of  the  Franciscan  convent  of  Santa  Chiara.  Granvelle  officiated  on  the  occa- 
sion. Mass  was  performed  by  the  cardinal-viceroy  in  his  pontificals.  Te 
Deum  was  then  cnanted,  after  which  Don  John,  approaching  the  altar  with 
a  slow  and  dignified  step,  gracefully  knelt  before  the  prelate,  who,  first  de- 
livering to  him  the  baton  of  generalissimo,  in  the  name  of  his  holiness,  next 
placed  in  his  hands  the  consecrated  standard.  It  was  of  azure  damask.  A 
crucifix  was  embroidered  on  the  upper  part  of  the  banner,  while  l>elow  were 
the  arms  of  the  Church,  with  those  of  Spain  on  the  right  and  of  Venice  on 

"  VanrtprlminnM'n,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  torn.  x.  p.  251. — Herrera,  Hist,  general,  torn, 
ful.  159,  rt  Roq.  -Fen-eras,  Hist.  d'Kspagne,  il.  p.  15,  et  seq. 


616  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

the  left,  united  by  a  chain,  from  which  were  suspended  the  arms  of  John  of 
Austria.  The  prelate  concluded  the  ceremony  by  invoking  the  blessing  of 
Heaven  on  its  champion  and  beseeching  that  He  might  be  permitted  to  carry 
the  banner  of  the  Cross  victorious  over  its  enemies.  The  choir  of  the  convent 
then  burst  forth  into  a  triumphant  peal,  and  the  people  from  every  quarter 
of  the  vast  edifice  shouted  "  Amen  ! " Is 

It  was  a  striking  scene,  pregnant  with  matter  for  meditation  to  those  who 
gazed  on  it  For  what  could  be  more  striking  than  the  contrast  afforded  by 
these  two  individuals, — the  one  in  the  morning  of  life,  his  eye  kindling  with 
hope  and  generous  ambition,  as  he  looked  into  the  future  and  prepared  to 
tread  the  path  of  glory  under  auspices  as  brilliant  as  ever  attended  any 
mortal ;  the  other  drawing  near  to  the  evening  of  his  day,  looking  to  the  past 
rather  than  the  future,  with  pale  and  thoughtful  brow,  as  of  one  who,  after 
many  a  toilsome  day  and  sleepless  night,  had  achieved  the  proud  eminence 
for  which  his  companion  was  panting, — and  had  found  it  barren  ! 

The  wind  having  become  more  favourable,  Don  John  took  leave  of  the  gay 
capital  of  the  South,  and  embarked  for  Messina,  which  he  reached  on  the 
twenty-fifth  of  August.  If  in  other  places  he  had  seen  preparations  for  war, 
here  he  seemed  to  be  brought  on  the  very  theatre  of  war.  As  he  entered  the 
noble  port,  he  was  saluted  with  the  thunders  of  hundreds  of  pieces  of  ordnance 
from  the  combined  fleets  of  Rome  and  Venice,  which  lay  side  by  side  awaiting 
his  arrival.  He  landed  beneath  a  triumphal  arch  of  colossal  dimensions,  em- 
bossed with  rich  plates  of  silver  and  curiously  sculptured  with  emblematical 
bas-reliefs  and  with  complimentary  legends  in  Latin  verse,  furnished  by  the 
classic  poets  of  Italy.18  He  passed  under  two  other  arches  of  similar  rich  and 
elaborate  construction,  as  he  rode  into  the  city  amidst  the  ringing  of  bells,  the 
cheers  of  the  multitude,  the  waving  of  scarfs  and  handkerchiefs  from  the 
balconies,  and  other  lively  demonstrations  of  the  public  joy,  such  as  might 
have  intoxicated  the  brain  of  a  less  ambitious  soldier  than  John  of  Austria. 
The  festivities  were  closed  in  the  evening  by  a  general  illumination  of  the 
city,  and  by  a  display  of  fireworks  that  threw  a  light  far  and  wide  over  the 
beautiful  harbour  and  the  countless  ships  that  floated  on  its  waters. 

Nothing  could  be  finer,  indeed,  whether  by  day  or  by  night,  than  the  spec- 
tacle presented  by  the  port  of  Messina.  Every  day  a  fresh  reinforcement  of 
squadrons,  or  of  single  galleys  or  brigantines,  under  some  brave  adventurer, 
entered  the  harbour  to  swell  the  numbers  of  the  great  armada.  Many  of  these 
vessels,  especially  the  galleys,  were  richly  carved  and  gilt,  after  the  fashion  of 
the  time,.and  with  their  many-coloured  streamers,  and  their  flags  displaying  the 
arms  of  their  several  states,  made  a  magnificent  show  as  they  glanced  over  the 
waters.  None,  in  the  splendour  of  their  decorations,  exceeded  the  Real,  as 
the  galley  of  the  commander-in-chief  was  termed.  It  was  of  great  size,  and  had 
been  built  in  Barcelona,  famous  for  its  naval  architecture  all  the  world  over. 
The  stern  of  the  vessel  was  profusely  decorated  with  emblems  and  devices  drawn 
from  history.  The  interior  was  furnished  in  a  style  of  luxury  that  seemed  to 
be  designed  for  pleasure  rather  than  for  the  rough  duties  of  war.  But  the 
galley  was  remarkable  for  both  strength  and  speed, — the  two  most  essential 
qualities  in  the  construction  of  a  ship.  Of  this  she  gave  ample  evidence  in  her 
contest  with  the  Turk." 

The  whole  number  of  vessels  in  the  armada,  great  and  small,  amounted  to 

"  "  Lucgo   su    Alteza,  el  Coro,  y  Pueblo  their  manifold  Inscriptions,  see  Vanderham- 

dixeron  con  musica,  vozes,  yalegria;  Amen."  men,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  160-162. 

Yanderhammen,  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  159.  "  Resell,  Combate  naval  de  Lepanto,  p. 

"  For  a  minute  account  of  these  arches  and  84. 


ARRIVAL  AT  MESSINA.  617 

something  more  than  three  hundred.  Of  these  full  two-thirds  were  "royal 
galleys."  Venice  alone  contributed  one  hundred  and  six,  besides  six  galeazzas. 
These  were  ships  of  enormous  bulk,  and,  as  it  would  seem,  of  clumsy  construc- 
tion, carrying  each  more  than  forty  pieces  of  artillery.  The  Spaniards  counted 
a  score  of  galleys  less  than  their  Venetian  confederates.  But  they  far 
exceeded  them  in  the  number  of  their  frigates,  brigantines,  and  vessels  of 
smaller  size.  They  boasted  a  still  greater  superiority  in  the  equipment  of  their 
navy.  Indeed,  the  Venetian  squadron  was  found  so  indifferently  manned  that 
Don  John  ordered  several  thousand  hands  to  be  drafted  from  the  ships  of  the 
other  Italian  powers,  and  from  the  Spanish,  to  make  up  the  necessary  comple- 
ment. This  proceeding  conveyed  so  direct  a  censure  on  the  remissness  of  his 
countrymen  as  to  give  great  disgust  to  the  admiral,  Veniero.  But  in  the 
present  emergency  he  had  neither  the  power  to  resist  nor  to  resent  it.18 

The  number  of  persons  on  board  of  the  Meet,  soldiers  and  seamen,  was  esti- 
mated at  eighty  thousand.  The  galleys,  impelled  by  oars  more  than  by  sails, 
required  a  large  number  of  hands  to  navigate  them.  The  soldiers,  as  we  have 
seen,  did  not  exceed  twenty-nine  thousand  ;  of  which  number  more  than  nine- 
teen thousand  were  furnished  by  Spain.  They  were  well-appointed  troops, 
most  of  them  familiar  with  war,  and  officered  by  men  many  of  whom  haa 
already  established  a  high  reputation  in  the  service.  On  surveying  the  muster- 
roll  of  cavaliers  who  embarked  in  this  expedition,  one  may  well  believe  that 
Spam  had  never  before  sent  forth  a  fleet  iii  which  were  to  be  found  the  names 
of  so  many  of  her  sons  illustrious  for  rank  and  military  achievement.  If  the 
same  can  be  said  of  Venice,  we  must  consider  that  the  present  war  was  one  in 
which  the  prosperity,  perhaps  the  very  existence,  of  the  republic  was  involved. 
The  Spaniard  was  animated  by  the  true  spirit  of  the  Crusades,  when,  instead 
of  mercenary  motives,  the  guerdon  for  which  men  fought  was  glory  in  this 
world  and  paradise  in  the  next. 

Sebastian  Veniero,  trembling  for  the  possessions  of  the  republic  in  the 
Adriatic,  would  have  put  to  sea  without  further  delay  and  sought  out  the 
enemy.  But  Don  John,  with  a  prudence  hardly  to  have  been  expected, 
declined  moving  until  he  had  been  strengthened  by  all  his  reinforcements. 
He  knew  the  resources  of  the  Ottoman  empire ;  he  could  not  doubt  that  in 
the  present  emergency  they  would  be  strained  to  the  utmost  to  equip  a  formi- 
dable armament ;  ana  he  resolved  not  to  expose  himself  unnecessarily  to  the 
chances  of  defeat  by  neglecting  any  means  in  his  power  to  prepare  for  the 
encounter.  It  was  a  discreet  determination,  which  must  have  met  the  entire 
approbation  of  his  brother. 

While  he  was  thus  detained  at  Messina,  a  papal  nuncio,  Odescalco,  bishop 
of  Pena,  arrived  there.  He  was  the  bearer  of  sundry  spiritual  favours  from 
the  pontiff,  whose  real  object,  no  doubt,  was  to  quicken  the  movements  of 
John  of  Austria.  The  nuncio  proclaimed  a  jubilee ;  and  every  man  in  the 
armada,  from  the  cap  tain -general  downwards,  having  fasted  three  days,  con- 
fessed and  partook  of  the  communion.  The  prelate,  in  the  name  of  his  holi- 
ness, then  proclaimed  a  full  remission  of  their  sins  ;  and  he  conceded  to  them 
the  same  indulgences  as  had  been  granted  to  the  deliverers  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre.  To  Don  John  the  pope  communicated  certain  revelations  and  two 
cheering  prophecies  from  St.  Isidore,  which  his  holiness  declared  had  undoubted 

'•  Don  John,  in  his  correspondence   with  clerta  conffja  vr  que  el  mundo  me  obllga  & 

hi*  friend  Don  Garcia  de  Toledo,  speaks  with  bacer  alguna  cosa  de  momciito,  c»iitaiid<>  las 

bi«h  di*jru«t  of  Ibe  negligence  shown  In  equip-  galeraa    |>or   numero    y    no    por  cualidad." 

UIIIK  the  Venetian  galleys.     In  a  It-it  r  dated  I>ocumentoa  lueUitos,  torn.  ill.  p.  18. 
Mes-ina,  August  3utb,  he  Mys, 


618  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

reference  to  the  prince.  It  is  further  stated  that  Pius  appealed  to  more 
worldly  feelings,  by  intimating  to  the  young  commander  that  success  could 
not  fail  to  open  the  way  to  the  acquisition  of  some  independent  sovereignty 
'for  himself."  Whether  this  suggestion  first  awakened  so  pleasing  an  idea  in 
Don  John's  mind,  or  whether  the  wary  pontiff  was  aware  that  it  already 
existed  there,  it  is  certain  that  it  became  the  spectre  which  from  this  time 
forward  continued  to  haunt  the  imagination  of  the  aspiring  chieftain,  and  to 
beckon  him  onward  in  the  path  of  perilous  ambition  to  its  melancholy  close. 

All  being  now  in  readiness,  orders  were  given  to  weigh  anchor ;  and  on  the 
sixteenth  of  September  the  magnificent  armament — unrivalled  by  any  which 
had  rode  upon  these  waters  since  the  days  of  imperial  Rome — stood  out  to 
sea.  The  papal  nuncio,  dressed  in  his  pontificals,  took  a  prominent  station 
on  the  mole  ;  and  as  each  vessel  passed  successively  before  him  he  bestowed 
on  it  his  apostolic  benediction.  Then,  without  postponing  a  moment  longer 
his  return,  he  left  Messina  and  hastened  back  to  Rome  to  announce  the  joyful 
tidings  to  his  master.80 


CHAPTER  X. 

WAR  WITH  THE   TURKS. 

Plan  of  Operations— Tidings  of  the  Enemy— Preparations  for  Combat— Battle  of  Lepanto— 
Rout  of  the  Turkish  Armada. 

1571. 

As  the  allied  fleet  coasted  along  the  Calabrian  shore,  it  was  so  much  baffled  by 
rough  seas  and  contrary  winds  that  its  progress  was  slow.  Not  long  before 
his  departure,  Don  John  had  sent  a  small  squadron  under  a  Spanish  captain, 
Gil  de  Andrada,  to  collect  tidings  of  the  enemy.  On  his  return,  that  com- 
mander met  the  Christian  fleet,  and  reported  that  the  Turks,  with  a  powerful' 
armament,  were  still  in  the  Adriatic,  where  they  had  committed  fearfid 
ravages  on  the  Venetian  territories.  Don  John  now  steered  his  course  for 
Corfu,  which,  however,  he  did  not  reach  till  the  twenty-sixth  of  September. 
He  soon  had  ample  opportunities  of  seeing  for  himself  the  traces  of  the  enemy, 
in  the  smoking  hamlets  and  desolated  fields  along  the  coast.  The  allies  were 
welcomed  with  joy  by  the  islanders,  who  furnished  them  with  whatever  sup- 
plies they  needed.  Here  Don  John  learned  that  the  Ottoman  fleet  had  been 
seen  standing  into  the  gulf  of  Lepanto,  where  it  lay  as  if  waiting  the  coming 
of  the  Christians. 

The  young  commander-in-chief  had  now  no  hesitation  as  to  the  course  he 
ought  to  pursue.    But  he  chose  to  call  a  council  of  his  principal  captains  before 

"  Resell,  Combate  naval  de  Lepanto,  p.  If  his  language  may  be  thought  sometimes  to 

82. — The  clearest  and  by  far  the  most  elabo-  betray  the  warmth  of  national  partiality,  it 

rate  account  of  the  battle  of  Lepantu  is  to  be  cannot  In- denied  that  he  has  exploredtlie  best 

found  in  the  memoir  of  Don  Cayetan  Rosell,  sources  of  information   and  endeavoured  to 

which  received  the  prize  of  the  Royal  Academy  place  the  result  fairly  before  the  reader, 

of  History  of  Madrid,  in  1853.     It  is  a  narra-  *•  Torres  y  Aguilera,  Chronica  de  Guerra 

tive    which    may    be    read    with    pride   by  que  ha  acontescido  en  Italia  y  partes  de  Le- 

Spaniards,  for  the  minute  details  it  gives  of  vante  y  Berberia  desde  1570  en  1574  (Cara- 

the  prowess  shown  by  their  heroic  ancestors  goc.a,    1579),  fol.  54. — Vanderhammen,   Don 

on  that  memorable  day.    The  author  enters  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.   165.  et  seq. — Cabrera, 

with  spirit  into  the  stormy  scene  he  describes.  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  is.,  cap.  23. 


PLAN   OF  OPERATIONS.  619 

deciding.  The  treaty  of  alliance,  indeed,  required  him  to  consult  with  the 
other  commanders  before  taking  any  decisive  step  in  matters  of  importance  ; 
and  this  had  been  strenuously  urged  on  him  by  the  king,  ever  afraid  of  his 
brother's  impetuosity. 

The  opinions  of  the  council  were  divided.  Some  who  had  had  personal  expe- 
rience of  the  naval  prowess  of  the  Turks  appeared  to  shrink  from  encountering 
so  formidable  an  armament,  and  would  have  confined  the  operations  of  the 
fleet  to  the  siege  of  some  place  belonging  to  the  Moslems.  Even  Doria,  whose 
life  had  been  spent  in  fighting  with  the  infidel,  thought  it  was  not  advisable 
to  attack  the  enemy  in  his  present  position,  surrounded  by  friendly  shores, 
whence  he  might  easily  obtain  succour.  It  would  be  better,  he  urged,  to 
attack  some  neighbouring  place,  like  Navarinp,  which  might  have  the  etlect  of 
drawing  him  from  the  gulf,  and  thus  compel  him  to  give  battle  in  some  quarter 
more  advantageous  to  the  allies. 

But  the  majority  of  the  council  took  a  very  different  view  of  the  matter. 
To  them  it  appeared  that  the  great  object  of  the  expedition  was  to  destroy  the 
Ottoman  fleet,  and  that  a  better  opportunity  could  not  be  ottered  than  the 
present  one,  while  the  enemy  was  shut  up  in  the  gulf,  from  which,  if  defeated, 
he  would  find  no  means  of  escape.  Fortunately,  this  was  the  opinion  not  only 
of  the  nuijority,  but  of  most  of  those  whose  opinions  were  entitled  to  the 
greatest  deference.  Among  these  were  the  gallant  marquis  of  Santa  Cruz,  the 
Grand  Commander  Requesens,  who  still  remained  near  the  person  of  Don  John 
and  had  command  of  a  galley  in  his  rear,  Cardona,  general  of  the  Sicilian 
squadron,  Barbarigp,  the  Venetian  procveditare,  next  in  authority  to  the 
captain-general  of  his  nation,  the  Roman  Colonna,  and  Alexander  Farnese,  the 
young  prince  of  Parma,  Don  John's  nephew,  who  had  come,  on  this  memorable 
occasion,  to  take  his  first  lesson  in  the  art  of  war, — an  art  in  which  he  was 
destined  to  remain  without  a  rival. 

The  commander-in-chief  with  no  little  satisfaction  saw  himself  so  well  sup- 
ported in  his  own  judgment ;  and  he  resolved,  without  any  unnecessary  delay, 
to  give  the  Turks  battle  in  the  position  they  had  chosen.  He  was  desirous, 
however,  to  be  joined  by  a  part  of  his  fleet,  which,  baffled  by  the  winds,  ana 
without  oars,  still  lagged  far  beliind.  For  the  galley,  with  its  numerous  oars 
in  addition  to  its  sails,  had  somewhat  of  the  properties  of  a  modern  steamer, 
which  so  gallantly  defies  both  wind  and  wave.  As  Don  John  wished  also 
to  review  his  fleet  before  coming  to  action,  he  determined  to  cross  over  to 
Comenizza,  a  capacious  and  well-protected  port  on  the  opposite  coast  of 
Albania. 

This  he  did  on  the  thirtieth  of  September.  Here  the  vessels  were  got  iu 
readiness  for  immediate  action.  They  passed  in  review  before  the  commander- 
in-chief,  and  went  through  their  various  evolutions ;  while  the  artillerymen 
and  musketeers  showed  excellent  practice.  Don  John  looked  with  increased 
confidence  to  the  approaching  couibat.  An  event,  however,  occurred  at  this 
time  which  might  have  been  attended  with  the  worst  consequences. 

A  Roman  officer  named  Tortona,  one  of  those  who  had  been  drafted  to 
make  up  the  complement  of  the  Venetian  galleys,  engaged  in  a  brawl  with 
some  of  his  crew.  This  reached  the  ears  of  Veniero,  the  Venetian  captain- 
general.  The  old  man,  naturally  of  a  choleric  temper,  and  still  smarting  from 
the  insult  which  he  fancied  he  had  received  by  the  introduction  of  the  allies 
on  board  of  his  vessels,  instantly  ordered  the  arrest  of  the  offender.  Tortona 
for  a  long  while  resisted  the  execution  of  these  orders ;  and  when  finally 
seized,  with  some  of  his  companions,  they  were  all  sentenced  by  the  vindictive 
Veniero  to  be  hung  at  the  yard-arm.  Such  a  high-handed  proceeding  caused 


620  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

the  deepest  indignation  in  Don  John,  who  regarded  it,  moreover,  as  an  insult 
to  himself.  In  the  first  moments  of  his  wrath  he  talked  of  retaliating  on  the 
Venetian  admiral  by  a  similar  punishment.  But,  happily,  the  remonstrances 
of  Colonna — who,  as  the  papal  commander,  had  in  truth  the  most  reason  to 
complain — and  the  entreaties  of  other  friends  prevailed  on  the  angry  chief  to 
abstain  from  any  violent  act.  He  insisted,  however,  that  Veniero  should  never 
again  take  his  place  at  the  council-board,  but  should  be  there  represented  by 
the  provveditore  Barbarigo,  next  in  command, — a  man,  fortunately^  possessed 
of  a  better  control  over  his  temper  than  was  shown  by  his  superior.  Thus  the 
cloud  passed  away  which  threatened  for  a  moment  to  break  up  the  harmony 
of  the  allies  and  to  bring  ruin  on  the  enterprise.1 

On  the  third  of  October,  Don  John,  without  waiting  longer  for  the  missing 
vessels,  again  put  to  sea,  and  stood  for  the  gulf  of  Lepanto.  As  the  fleet 
swept  down  the  Ionian  Sea,  it  passed  many  a  spot  famous  in  ancient  story. 
None,  we  may  imagine,  would  be  so  likely  to  excite  an  interest  at  this  time  as 
Actium,  on  whose  waters  was  fought  the  greatest  naval  battle  of  antiquity. 
But  the  mariner,  probably,  gave  little  thought  to  the  past,  as  he  dwelt  on  the 
conflict  that  awaited  him  at  Lepanto.  On  the  fifth,  a  thick  fog  enveloped  the 
armada  and  shut  out  every  object  from  sight.  Fortunately,  the  vessels  met 
with  no  injury,  and,  passing  by  Ithaca,  the  ancient  home  of  Ulysses,  they 
safely  anchored  off  the  eastern  coast  of  Cephalonia.  For  two  days  their 
progress  was  thwarted  by  head-winds.  But  on  the  seventh,  Don  John, 
impatient  of  delay,  again  put  to  sea,  though  wind  and  weather  were  still 
unfavourable. 

While  lying  off  Cephalonia  he  had  received  tidings  that  Famagosta,  the 
second  city  of  Cyprus,  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  this  under 
circumstances  of  unparalleled  perfidy  and  cruelty.  The  place,  after  a  defence 
that  had  cost  hecatombs  of  lives  to  the  besiegers,  was  allowed  to  capitulate  on 
honourable  terms.  Mustapha,  the  Moslem  commander,  the  same  fierce  chief 
who  had  conducted  the  siege  of  Malta,  requested  an  interview  at  his  quarters 
with  four  of  the  principal  Venetian  captains.  After  a  short  and  angry  confer- 
ence, he  ordered  them  all  to  execution.  Three  were  beheaded.  The  other,  a 
noble  named  Bragadino,  who  had  held  the  supreme  command,  he  caused  to  be 
flayed  alive  in  the  market-place  of  the  city.  The  skin  of  the  wretched  victim 
was  then  stuft'ed  ;  and  with  this  ghastly  trophy  dangling  from  the  yard-arm  of 
his  galley,  the  brutal  monster  sailed  back  to  Constantinople,  to  receive  the 
reward  of  his  services  from  Selim.1  These  services  were  great.  The  fail  of 
Famagosta  secured  the  fall  of  Cyprus,  which  thus  became  permanently  incor- 
porated in  the  Ottoman  empire/ 

The  tidings  of  these  shocking  events  filled  the  breast  of  every  Venetian 
with  an  inextinguishable  thirst  for  vengeance.  Tke  confederates  entered 
heartily  into  these  feelings  ;  and  all  on  board  of  the  armada  were  impatient 
for  the  hour  that  was  to  bring  them  hand  to  liand  with  the  enemies  of  the 
Faith. 

It  was  two  hours  before  dawn,  on  Sunday,  the  memorable  seventh  of 
October,  when  the  fleet  weighed  anchor.  The  wind  had  become  lighter ;  but 

1  Torres  y    Aguilera.  Chronica,  fol.   64. —  "Despue«  hizo  que  lo  degollassen   vivo,   y 

Vanderhammen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  lleno  el  pellrjo  de  paja  lo  hizo  colgar  de  la 

173. — Paruta,  Giierra  di  Cipro,  p.  149.  — Re-  entena  de  una  galeota,  ydesta  mantra  lo  llevo 

lacion  de  la  Batalla  naval  qne  entre  Chris-  por  toda   la  ribera  de   la  Suria."      Torres  y 

tianos  y  Turcos  hubo  el  afio  1571,  MS.  — Otra  Aguilera,  Chronica,  fol.  45. 
Relacion,  Documentos  ineditos,  torn.   Hi.  p.  '  Ibid.,    fol.    44,    45. — Paruta,  Gnerra   di 

365.  Cipro,  pp.  130-144.— Sagredo,  Munarcus  Otho- 

*  Paruta,  Guerra  di  Cipro,  pp.  143,  144.—  manoa,  pp.  283-289. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  COMBAT.  621 

it  was  still  contrary,  and  the  galleys  were  indebted  for  their  progress  much 
more  to  their  oars  than  their  sails.  By  sunrise  they  were  abreast  of  the  Cur- 
zolari,  a  cluster  of  huge  rocks,  or  rocky  islets,  which  on  the  north  defends  the 
entrance  of  the  gulf  of  Lepanto.  The  fleet  moved  laboriously  along,  while 
every  eye  was  strained  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  hostile  navy.  At 
length  the  watch  on  the  foretop  of  the  Heal  called  out,  "  A  sail ! "  and  soon 
after  declared  that  the  whole  Ottoman  fleet  was  in  sight.  Several  others, 
climbing  up  the  rigging,  confirmed  his  report ;  and  in  a  few  moments  more, 
word  was  sent  to  the  same  effect  by  Andrew  Doria,  who  commanded  on  the 
right.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt ;  and  Don  John,  ordering  his  pennon 
to  be  displayed  at  the  mizzen-peak,  unfurled  the  great  standard  of  the  League, 
given  by  the  pope,  and  directed  a  gun  to  be  fired,  the  signal  for  batt'e.  The 
report,  as  it  ran  along  the  rocky  snores,  fell  cheerily  on  the  ears  of  the  con- 
federates, who,  raising  their  eyes  towards  the  consecrated  banner,  rilled  the  air 
with  their  shouts.4 

The  principal  captains  now  came  on  board  the  Heal,  to  receive  the  last 
orders  of  the  commander-in-chief.  Even  at  this  late  hour  there  were  some 
who  ventured  to  intimate  their  doubts  of  the  expediency  of  engaging  the 
enemy  in  a  position  where  he  had  a  decided  advantage.  But  Don  John  cut 
short  the  discussion.  "  Gentlemen."  he  said,  "this  is  the  time  for  combat,  not 
for  counsel."  He  then  continued  the  dispositions  he  was  making  for  the 
attack. 

He  had  already  given  to  each  commander  of  a  galley  written  instructions  as 
to  the  manner  in  which  the  line  of  battle  was  to  be  formed  in  case  of  meeting 
the  enemy.  The  armada  was  now  disposed  in  that  order.  It  extended  on  a 
front  of  three  miles.  Far  on  the  right,  a  squadron  of  sixty-four  galleys  was 
commanded  by  the  Genoese  admiral,  Andrew  Doria, — a  name  of  terror  to  the 
Moslems.  The  centre,  or  battle,  as  it  was  called,  consisting  of  sixty-three 
galleys,  was  led  by  John  of  Austria,  who  was  supported  on  the  one  side  by 
Oolonna,  the  captain-general  of  the  pope;  and  on  the  other  by  the  Venetian 
captain -general,  Veniero.  Immediately  in  the  rear  was  the  galley  of  the 
Grand  Commander  Requesens,  who  still  remained  near  the  person  of  his  former 
pupil ;  though  a  difference  which  arose  between  them  on  the  voyage,  fortunately 
now  healed,  showed  that  the  young  commander-in-chief  was  wholly  independent 
of  his  teacher  in  the  art  of  war. 

The  left  wing  was  commanded  by  the  noble  Venetian,  Barharigo,  whose 
vessels  stretched  along  the  jEtolian  shore,  to  which  he  approached  as  near  as, 
in  his  ignorance  of  the  coast,  he  dared  to  venture,  so  as  to  prevent  his  being 
turned  by  the  enemy.  Finally,  the  reserve,  consisting  of  thirty-five  galleys, 
was  given  to  the  brave  marquis  of  Santa  Cruz,  with  directions  to  act  in  any 
quarter  where  he  thought  his  presence  most  needed.  The  smaller  craft,  some 
of  which  had  now  arrived,  seem  to  have  taken  little  part  in  the  action,  which 
was  thus  left  to  the  galleys. 

Each  commander  was  to  occupy  so  much  space  with  his  galley  as  to  allow 
room  for  manoeuvring  it  to  advantage,  and  yet  not  enough  to  allow  the  enemy 
to  break  the  line.  He  was  directed  to  single  out  his  adversary,  to  close  with 
him  at  once,  and  board  as  soon  as  possible.  The  beaks  of  the  galleys  were 
pronounced  to  be  a  hinderance  rather  than  a  help  in  action.  They  were 
rarely  strong  enough  to  resist  a  shock  from  an  antagonist,  and  they  much 
interfered  with  the  working  and  firing  of  the  guns.  Don  John  had  the  beak 
of  his  vessel  cut  away.  The  example  was  followed  throughout  the  fleet,  and, 

•  Torres  y  Agiilieni,  Cbronlca,  fol.  63. — Documcutos  incditos,  torn.  Hi.  p.  241.— Resell, 
Historl  i  del  Comtxuc  naval,  pp.  K5,  94.  , 


622  WAR  WITH   THE  TURKS. 

as  it  is  said,  with  eminently  good  effect.    It  may  seem  strange  that  this 
discovery  should  have  been  reserved  for  the  crisis  of  a  battle.*  ' 

When  the  officers  had  received  their  last  instructions,  they  returned  to  their 
respective  vessels  ;  and  Don  John,  going  on  board  of  a  light  frigate,  passed 
rapidly  through  the  part  of  the  armada  lying  on  his  right,  while  he  commanded 
Requesens  to  do  the  same  with  the  vessels  on  his  left.  His  object  was  to  feel 
the  temper  of  his  men,  and  to  rouse  their  mettle  by  a  few  words  of  encourage- 
ment. The  Venetians  he  reminded  of  their  recent  injuries.  The  hour  for 
vengeance,  he  told  them,  had  arrived.  To  the  Spaniards  and  other  con- 
federates he  said,  "  You  have  come  to  fight  the  battle  of  the  Cross ;  to  conquer 
or  to  die.  But,  whether  you  are  to  die  or  conquer,  do  your  duty  this  day,  and 
you  will  secure  a  glorious 'immortality."  His  words  were  received  with  a  burst 
of  enthusiasm  which  went  to  the  heart  of  the  commander  and  assured  him 
that  he  could  rely  on  his  men  in  the  hour  of  trial.  On  returning  to  his  vessel, 
he  saw  Veniero  on  his  quarter-deck ;  and  they  exchanged  salutations  in  as 
friendly  a  manner  as  if  no  difference  had  existed  between  them.  At  this 
solemn  hour  both  these  brave  men  were  willing  to  forget  all  personal  animosity 
in  a  common  feeling  of  devotion  to  the  great  cause  in  which  they  were 
engaged.' 

The  Ottoman  fleet  came  on  slowly  and  with  difficulty.  For,  strange  to  say, 
the  wind,  which  had  hitherto  been  adverse  to  the  Christians,  after  lulling  for 
a  time,  suddenly  shifted  to  the  opposite  quarter  and  blew  in  the  face  of  the 
enemy.7  As  the  day  advanced,  moreover,  the  sun,  which  had  shone  in  the 
eyes  of  the  confederates,  gradually  shot  its  rays  into  those  of  the  Moslems. 
Both  circumstances  were  of  good  omen  to  the  Christians,  and  the  first  was 
regarded  as  nothing  short  of  a  direct  interposition  of  Heaven.  Thus  plough- 
ing its  way  along,  the  Turkish  armament,  as  it  came  more  into  view,  showed 
itself  in  greater  strength  than  had  been  anticipated  by  the  allies.  It  consisted 
of  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  royal  galleys,  most  of  them  of  the  largest 
class,  besides  a  number  of  smaller  vessels  in  the  rear,  which,  like  those  of  the 
allies,  appear  scarcely  to  have  come  into  action.  The  men  on  board,  of  every 
description,  were  computed  at  not  less  than  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand.8 
The  galleys  spread  out,  as  usual  with  the  Turks,  in  the  form  of  a  regular  half 
moon,  covering  a  wider  extent  of  surface  than  the  combined  Meets,  which  they 
somewhat  exceeded  in  number.  They  presented,  indeed,  as  they  drew  nearer, 
a  magnificent  array,  with  their  gilded  and  gaudily-painted  prows,  and  their 
myriads  of  pennons  and  streamers  fluttering  gayly  in  the  breeze  ;  while  the 
rays  of  the  morning  sun  glanced  on  the  polished  scimitars  of  Damascus,  and 
on  the  superb  aigrettes  of  jewels  which  sparkled  in  the  turbans  of  the  Otto- 
man chiefs. 

In  the  centre  of  the  extended  line,  and  directly  opposite  to  the  station 
occupied  by  the  captain-general  of  the  League,  was  the  huge  galley  of  Ali 
Pasha.  The  right  of  the  armada  was  commanded  by  Mahomet  Sirocco, 

*  Torres  y  Agiiilera,  Chronica,   fol.  53. —  Don  Juan,  Documentos  ineditos,  torn.  xi.  p. 
Herrera,  Hist,  general,  torn.  ii.  p.  30. — Rela-  368, — Torres  y  Aguilera,  Chronica,  fol.  75. — 
cion  de  la  Batalla  naval,  MS.— Resell,  His-  The  testimony  is  that  of  persons  present  in 
toria  del  Combate  naval,  pp.  95,  99,  100.  the  action. 

•  Torres  y  Aguiltra,  Chronica,  fol.  67,  et  •  Amidst  the  contradictory  estimates  of  the 
seq. — Relacion  de   la  Batalla    nav«l,   MS. —  number  of  the  vessels  and  the  forces  in  the 
Otras  Relaciones,  Docnmentos  ineditos,  torn.  Turkish  armada  to  be  found  in  different  writers 
iii.  pp.  242,  262.  and  even   in  •  fficial  relations,  1    have  con- 

'  Most  of  the  authorities  notice  this  an*-  firmed   to    the    statement    given    in    Sefior 

picious  change  of  the  wind.     Among  others,  Rosell's  Memoria,  prepared  after  a  careful 

see  Relacion  de  la  Bat  alia  naval,  M.S.. — He-  comparison  of  the  various  authorities.     His- 

lacion  escrita  por  Miguel  Servia,  confrsorde  toria  del  Combate  naval,  p.  94. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  COMBAT.  623 

viceroy  of  Egypt,  a  circumspect  as  well  as  courageous  leader ;  the  left,  by 
Uluch  Ali,  dey  of  Algiers,  the  redoubtable  corsair  of  the  Mediterranean.  All 
Pasha  had  experienced  a  difficulty  like  that  of  Don  John,  as  several  of  his 
officers  had  strongly  urged  the  inexpediency  of  engaging  so  formidable  an 
armament  as  that  of  the  allies.  But  Ali,  like  his  rival,  was  young  and  am- 
bitious. He  had  been  sent  by  his  master  to  fight  the  enemy ;  and  no  remon- 
strances, not  even  those  of  Mahomet  Sirocco,  for  whom  he  had  great' respect, 
could  turn  him  from  his  purpose. 

He  had,  moreover,  received  intelligence  that  the  allied  fleet  was  much 
inferior  in  strength  to  what  it  proved.  In  this  error  he  was  fortified  by  the 
first  appearance  of  the  Christians ;  for  the  extremity  of  their  left  wing, 
commanded  by  Barbarigo,  stretching  behind  the  ^Etolian  shore,  was  hidden 
from  his  view.  As  he  drew  nearer  and  saw  the  whole  extent  of  the  Christian 
lines,  it  is  said  his  countenance  fell.  If  so,  he  still  did  not  abate  one  jot  of 
his  resolution.  He  spoke  to  those  around  him  with  the  same  confidence  as 
before,  of  the  result  of  the  battle.  He  urged  his  rowers  to  strain  every  nerve. 
Ali  was  a  man  of  more  humanity  in  his  nature  than  often  belonged  to  his 
nation.  His  galley-slaves  were  all,  or  nearly  all,  Christian  captives ;  and 
he  addressed  them  in  this  brief  and  pithy  manner :  "  If  your  countrymen  are 
to  win  this  day,  Allah  give  you  the  benefit  of  it ;  yet  if  I  win  it,  you  shall 
certainly  have  your  freedom.  If  you  feel  that  1  do  well  by  you,  do  then  the 
like  by  me."  • 

As  the  Turkish  admiral  drew  nearer,  he  made  a  change  in  his  order  of 
battle,  by  separating  his  wings  farther  from  his  centre,  thus  conforming  to  the 
dispositions  of  the  allies.  Before  he  had  come  within  cannon-shot,  he  fired 
a  gun  by  way  of  challenge  to  his  enemy.  It  was  answered  by  another  from 
the  galley  of  John  of  Austria.  A  second  gun  discharged  by  Ali  was  as 
promptly  replied  to  by  the  Christian  commander.  The  distance  between  the 
two  fleets  was  now  rapidly  diminishing.  At  this  solemn  moment  a  death-like 
silence  reigned  throughout  the  armament  of  the  confederates.  Men  seemed 
to  hold  their  breath,  as  if  absorbed  in  the  expectation  of  some  great  catastrophe. 
The  day  was  magnificent.  A  light  breeze,  still  adverse  to  the  Turks,  played 
on  the  waters,  somewhat  fretted  by  the  contrary  winds.  It  was  nearly  noon  ; 
and  as  the  sun,  mounting  through  a  cloudless  sky,  rose  to  the  zenith,  he  seemed 
to  pause,  as  if  to  look  down  on  the  beautiful  scene,  where  the  multitude  of 
galleys,  moving  over  the  water,  showed  like  a  holiday  spectacle  rather  than  a 
preparation  for  mortal  combat. 

The  illusion  was  soon  dispelled  by  the  fierce  yells  which  rose  on  the  air  from 
the  Turkish  armada.  It  was  the  customary  war-cry  with  which  the  Moslems 
entered  into  Kittle.  Very  different  was  the  scene  on  board  of  the  Christian 
galleys.  Don  John  might  be  there  seen,  armed  cap-a-pie,  standing  on  the 
prow  of  the  Real,  anxiously  awaiting  the  conflict  In  this  conspicuous  posi- 
tion, kneeling  down,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  humbly  prayed  that 
the  Almighty  would  be  with  his  people  on  that  day.  His  example  was  followed 
by  the  whole  fleet  Officers  and  men,  all  prostrating  themselves  on  their 
knees  and  turning  their  eyes  to  the  consecrated  banner  which  floated  from 
the  Real,  put  up  a  petition  like  that  of  their  commander.  They  then  received 
absolution  from  the  priests,  of  whom  there  were  some  in  every  vessel ;  and 

*  "  St  boy  «»  vnertro  <Ha,  Dlos  OB  lo  de ;  pero  last  pages  see   Partita,  Guerra  dl  Clpro,  pp. 

e*tod  ciertos  que  si  gnno  la  Jornada,  os  dare  150,  151, — Sagredo,  Monarcaa  Otliomano*.  p. 

libertad:  por  lo  tunto  haotl  l»  que  delicts  »  292.— Torns  y   Aguilera,  Clironica,   fol.   65, 

lax  obran  que  de  mi  Imbri*  rec  bidu."     Kosell,  6ti,—  Kulacion  de  la  lialalla  naval,  MS. 
HLsturia  d<  1  CumUtte  naval,  p.  101. — For  the 


624  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

each  man,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  gathered  new  strength,  as  he  felt  assured  that 
the  Lord  of  Hosts  would  fight  on  his  side. " 

When  the  foremost  vessels  of  the  Turks  had  come  within  cannon-shot,  they 
opened  their  fire  on  the  Christians.  The  firing  soon  ran  along  the  whole  of 
the  Turkish  line,  and  was  kept  up  without  interruption  as  it  advanced.  Don 
John  gave  orders  for  trumpet  and  atabal  to  sound  the  signal  for  action  ;  which 
was  followed  by  the  simultaneous  discharge  of  such  of  the  guns  in  the  com- 
bined fleet  as  could  be  brought  to  bear  on  the  enemy.  The  Spanish  commander 
had  caused  the  galeazzas,  those  mammoth  war-ships  of  which  some  account 
has  been  already  given,  to  be  towed  half  a  mile  ahead  of  the  fleet,  where  they 
might  intercept  the  advance  of  the  Turks.  As  the  latter  came  abreast  of 
them,  the  huge  galleys  delivered  their  broadsides  right  and  left,  and  their 
heavy  ordnance  produced  a  startling  effect.  Ali  Pasha  gave  orders  for  his 
galleys  to  open  their  line  and  pass  on  either  side,  without  engaging  these 
monsters  of  the  deep,  of  which  he  had  had  no  experience.  Even  so  their 
heavy  guns  did  considerable  damage  to  several  of  the  nearest  vessels,  and 
created  some  confusion  in  the  pacha's  line  of  battle.  They  were,  however, 
but  unwieldy  craft,  and,  having  accomplished  their  object,  seem  to  have  taken 
no  further  part  in  the  combat. 

The  action  began  on  the  left  wing  of  the  allies,  which  Mahomet  Sirocco  was 
desirous  of  turning.  This  had  been  anticipated  by  Barbarigo,  the  Venetian 
admiral,  who  commanded  in  that  quarter.  To  prevent  it,  as  we  have  seen,  he 
lay  with  his  vessels  as  near  the  coast  as  he  dared.  Sirocco,  better  acquainted 
with  the  soundings,  saw  there  was  space  enough  for  him  to  pass,  and,  darting 
by  with  all  the  speeed  that  oars  could  give  him,  he  succeeded  in  doubling  on 
his  enemy.  Thus  placed  between  two  fires,  the  extreme  of  the  Christian  left 
fought  at  terrible  disadvantage.  No  less  than  eight  galleys  went  to  the 
bottom,  and  several  others  were  captured.  The  brave  Barbarigo,  throwing 
himself  into  the  heat  of  the  fight,  without  availing  himself  of  his  defensive 
armour,  was  pierced  in  the  eye  by  an  arrow,  and,  reluctant  to  leave  the  glory 
of  the  field  to  another,  was  borne  to  his  cabin.  The  combat  still  continued 
with  unabated  fury  on  the  part  of  the  Venetians.  They  fought  like  men  who 
felt  that  the  war  was  theirs,  and  who  were  animated  not  only  by  their  thirst 
for  glory,  but  for  revenge.11 

Far  on  the  Christian  right  a  manoeuvre  similar  to  that  so  successfully  exe- 
cuted by  Sirocco  was  attempted  by  Uluch  Ali,  the  dey  of  Algiers.  Profiting 
by  his  superiority  in  numbers,  he  endeavoured  to  turn  the  nght  wing  of  the 
confederates.  It  was  in  this  quarter  that  Andrew  Doria  commanded.  He 
had  foreseen  this  movement  of  his  enemy,  and  he  succeeded  in  foiling  it. 
It  was  a  trial  of  skill  between  the  two  most  accomplished  seamen  in  the 
Mediterranean.  Doria  extended  his  line  so  far  to  the  right,  indeed,  to  prevent 
being  surrounded,  that  Don  John  was  obliged  to  remind  him  that  he  left  the 

10  This  fact  Is  told  by  most  of  the  historians  Parnta.  Guerra  di  Cipro,  p.  166. — Cabrera, 
of  the  battle.  The  author  of  the  manuscript  Filipe  Seeundo,  p.  6«8— Relacion  de  la  Hat  alia 
so  often  cited  by  me  further  says  that  it  was  naval,  MS.— Otra  Relacion,  Doctimentos  in- 
while  the  fleet  was  thus  engaged  in  prayer  for  edito-i.  torn.  xi.  p.  36*. — The  inestimable  col- 
aid  from  the  Almighty  that  the  change  of  lection  of  the  Documentos  ineditos  contains 
wind  took  place:  "  Y  en  «-ste  medio,  que  en  several  narratives  of  the  battle  of  Lepanto  by 
la  oracion  se  pedia  it  Dios  la  victoria,  estaba  contemporary  pens.  One  of  thfse  is  from 
el  m  ir  alterado  de  que  nuestra  armada  recibia  the  manuscript  of  Fray  Miguel  Servia,  the 
gran  d.ifio  y  antes  que  se  acabase  la  dicba  confessor  of  John  of  Austria,  and  present 
oracion  el  mar  estuvo  tan  quieto  y  sosegado  with  him  in  the  engagement.  The  different 
qw  jamas  se  a  visto,  y  fue  fuer?aii  la  armada  narratives  have  much  less  discrepancy  with 
ene.niga  amainar  y  venir  al  remo."  one  another  than  is  usual  on  such  occasions. 

"  Torres  y  Aguilera,  Ctmmica,  fol.  71. — 


BATTLE  OF  LEPANTO.  6^ 

centre  too  much  exposed.  His  dispositions  were  so  unfortunate  for  himself 
that  his  own  line  was  thus  weakened  and  afforded  some  vulnerable  points  to 
his  assailant.  These  were  soon  detected  by  the  eagle  eye  of  Uluch  Ali ;  and? 
like  the  king  of  birds  swooping  on  his  prey,  he  fell  on  some  galleys  separated 
by  a  considerable  interval  from  their  companions,  and,  sinking  more  than  one, 
carried  off  the  great  Capitana  of  Malta  in  triumph  as  his  prize.1* 

While  the  combat  opened  thus  disastrously  to  the  allies  both  on  the  right 
and  on  the  left,  in  the  centre  they  may  be  said  to  have  fought  with  doubtful 
fortune.  Don  John  had  led  his  division  gallantly  forward.  But  the  object 
on  which  he  was  intent  was  an  encounter  with  Ali  Pasha,  the  foe  most  worthy 
of  his  sword.  The  Turkish  commander  had  the  same  combat  no  less  at  heart. 
The  galleys  of  both  were  easily  recognized,  not  only  from  their  position,  but 
from  their  superior  size  and  richer  decoration.  The  one,  moreover,  displayed 
the  holy  banner  of  the  League ;  the  other  the  great  Ottoman  standard.  This, 
like  the  ancient  standard  of  the  caliphs,  was  held  sacred  in  its  character.  It 
was  covered  with  texts  from  the  Koran,  emblazoned  in  letters  of  gold,  and 
had  the  name  of  Allah  inscribed  upon  it  no  less  than  twenty-eight  thousand 
nine  hundred  times.  It  was  the  banner  of  the  sultan,  having  passed  from 
father  to  son  since  the  foundation  of  the  imperial  dynasty,  and  was  never  seen 
hi  the  field  unless  the  grand  seigneur  or  his  lieutenant  was  there  in  person.13 

Both  the  chiefs  urged  on  their  rowers  to  the  top  of  their  speed.  Their 
galleys  soon  shot  ahead  of  the  rest  of  the  line,  driven  through  the  boiling 
surges  as  by  the  force  of  a  tornado,  and  closed  with  a  shock  that  made  every 
timber  crack  and  the  two  vessels  quiver  to  their  very  keels.  So  powerful, 
indeed,  was  the  impetus  they  received  that  the  pacha's  galley,  which  was  con- 
siderably the  larger  and  loftier  of  the  two,  was  thrown  so  far  upon  its  opponent 
that  the  prow  reached  the  fourth  bench  of  rowers.  As  soon  as  the  vessels 
were  disengaged  from  each  other,  and  those  on  board  had  recovered  from  the 
shock,  the  work  of  death  began.  Don  John's  chief  strength  consisted  in  some 
three  hundred  Spanish  arquebusiers,  culled  from  the  flower  of  his  infantry. 
Ali,  on  the  other  hand,  was  provided  with  an  equal  number  of  janizaries.  He 
was  followed  by  a  smaller  vessel,  in  which  two  hundred  more  were  stationed  as 
a  corps  de  reserve.  He  had,  moreover,  a  hundred  archers  on  board.  The 
bow  was  still  as  much  in  use  with  the  Turks  as  with  the  other  Moslems. 

The  pacha  opened  at  once  on  his  enemy  a  terrible  tire  of  cannon  and 
musketry.  It  was  returned  with  equal  spirit  and  much  more  effect ;  for  the 
Turks  were  observed  to  shoot  over  the  heads  of  their  adversaries.  The 
Moslem  galley  was  unprovided  with  the  defences  which  protected  the  sides  of 
the  Spanish  vessels  ;  and  the  troops,  crowded  together  on  the  lofty  prow,  pre- 
sented an  easy  mark  to  their  enemy's  balls.  But,  though  numbers  of  them 
fell  at  every  discharge,  their  places  were  soon  supplied  by  tho.«e  in  reserve. 
They  were  enabled,  therefore,  to  keep  up  an  incessant  fire,  which  wasted  the 
strength  of  the  Spaniards  ;  and,  as  both  Christian  and  Mussulman  fought  with 
indomitable  spirit,  it  seemed  doubtful  to  which  side  victory  would  incline. 

The  affair  was  made  more  complicated  by  the  entrance  of  other  parties  into 

11  Torres  y  ARuilera,  Chronics,  fol.  72. —  affected  manner,  that  invites  the  confidence  of 
Rclacion  de  la  Balalla  naval,  MS.— The  last-  the  reader.  The  original  manuscript,  from 
mentioned  manuscript  is  one  o!  in  my  1>  ft  us  which  my  copy  w«s  taken,  is  to  be  found 
by  parties  engaged  in  the  fight.  The  author  in  the  librxry  of  the  University  of  I^eyden. 
of  this  relation  seems  to  have  written  it  on  "  A  minute  description  of  the  Ottoman 
b»ard  one  of  the  galleys  while  lying  at  standard,  taken  from  a  manuscript  of  Luis 
J'e  ala,  during  the  week  alter  the  engage-  del  Marmol,  is  given  in  the  Culeccionde  Docu- 
ment, The  events  are  told  in  a  plam,  uu-  metitos  ia&litoe,  toin.  ill.  p.  270,  it  sexj. 

2   8 


626  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

the  conflict.  Both  Ali  and  Don  John  were  supported  by  some  of  the  most 
valiant  captains  in  their  fleets.  Next  to  the  Spanish  commander,  as  we  have 
seen,  were  Oolonna  and  the  veteran  Veniero,  who,  at  the  age  of  seventy-six, 
performed  feats  of  arms  worthy  of  a  paladin  of  romance.  In  this  way  a  little 
squadron  of  combatants  gathered  round  the  principal  leaders,  who  sometimes 
found  themselves  assailed  by  several  enemies  at  the  same  time.  Still  the 
chiefs  did  not  lose  sight  of  one  another ;  but,  beating  off  their  inferior  foes  as 
well  as  they  could,  each,  refusing  to  loosen  his  hold,  clung  with  mortal  grasp  to 
his  antagonist.14 

Thus  the  fight  raged  along  the  whole  extent  of  the  entrance  to  the  gulf  of 
Lepanto.  The  volumes  of  vapour  rolling  heavily  over  the  waters  effectually 
shut  out  from  sight  whatever  was  passing  at  any  considerable  distance,  unless 
when  a  fresher  breeze  dispelled  the  smoke  for  a  moment,  or  the  flashes  of  the 
heavy  guns  threw  a  transient  gleam  on  the  dark  canopy  of  battle.  If  the  eve 
of  the  spectator  could  have  penetrated  the  cloud  of  smoke  that  enveloped  the 
combatants,  and  have  embraced  the  whole  scene  at  a  glance,  he  would  have 
perceived  them  broken  up  into  small  detachments,  separately  engaged  one  with 
another,  independently  of  the  rest,  and  indeed  ignorant  of  all  that  was  doing 
in  other  quarters.  The  contest  exhibited  few  of  those  large  combinations  ana 
skilful  manoeuvres  to  be  expected  in  a  great  naval  encounter.  It  was  rather 
an  assemblage  of  petty  actions,  resembling  those  on  land.  The  galleys, 
grappling  together,  presented  a  level  arena,  on  which  soldier  and  galley-slave 
fought  hand  to  hand,  and  the  fate  of  the  engagement  was  generally  decided  by 
boarding.  As  in  most  hand-to-hand  contests,  there  was  an  enormous  waste  of 
life.  The  decks  were  loaded  with  corpses,  Christian  and  Moslem  lying  pro- 
miscuously together  in  the  embrace  of  death.  Instances  are  recorded  where 
every  man  on  board  was  slain  or  wounded.15  It  was  a  ghastly  spectacle, 
where  blood  flowed  in  rivulets  down  the  sides  of  the  vessels,  staining  the 
waters  of  the  gulf  for  miles  around. 

It  seemed  as  if  a  hurricane  had  swept  over  the  sea  and  covered  it  with  the 
wreck  of  the  noble  armaments  which  a  moment  before  were  so  proudly  riding 
on  its  bosom.  Little  had  they  now  to  remind  one  of  their  late  magnificent 
array,  with  their  hulls  battered,  their  masts  and  spars  gone  or  splintered  by 
the  shot,  their  canvas  cut  into  shreds  and  floating  wildly  on  the  breeze,  while 
thousands  of  wounded  and  drowning  men  were  clinging  to  the  floating  frag- 
ments and  calling  piteously  for  help.  Such  was  the  wild  uproar  which 
succeeded  the  Sabbath-like  stillness  that  two  hours  before  had  reigned  over 
these  beautiful  solitudes. 

The  left  wing  of  the  confederates,  commanded  by  Barbarigo,  had  been  sorely 
pressed  by  the  Turks,  as  we  have  seen,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fight.  Barbarigo 
himself  had  been  mortally  wounded.  His  line  had  been  turned.  Several  of 
his  galleys  had  been  sunk.  But  the  Venetians  gathered  courage  from  despair. 
By  incredible  efforts,  they  succeeded  in  beating  off  their  enemies.  They  be- 
came the  assailants  in  their  turn.  Sword  in  hand,  they  carried  one  vessel 
after  another.  The  Capuchin  was  seen  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  waving 
aloft  his  crucifix  and  leading  the  boarders  to  the  assault.16  The  Christian 

14  DocuniPntos   ineditoa,  torn.  iii.   p.  265;  "La  Florencia,"  says  Resell,  "perdio  todos 
torn.  xi.  p.  368. — Torres  y  Aguilera,  Clironica,  los  sold  tdos,  cbusma,  galeotes  y  caballeros  de 
fol.   70. — Paruta,  Guerra  di  Cipro,   pp.  156,  San   Esieban   que  en  ella  habia,    excepto  su 
157. — Relacion  de  la  Batalla  naval,  MS.  capitan  Tomas  de  Medicis  y  diez  y  seis  bom- 

15  Herrera  notices  one  galley,  "La  Pia-  bre>  mas,  antique  todos  beridos  y  estropeados." 
montesa  de  Saboya  degollada  en  ella  toda  la  Historia  del  Combate  naval,  p.  113. 

gente  de  cabo  y  remo  y  despedazado  con  once  "  "Tomo  una   Alabarda  o   Pertesana,   y 

heridas  D.  Francisco  de  Saboya."    Another,        ligando  en  ella  el  Sancto  Crucifixo,  verdadera 


BATTLE  OF  LEPANTO.  .     627 

galley-slaves,  in  some  instances,  broke  their  fetters  and  joined  their  country- 
men against  their  masters.  Fortunately,  the  vessel  of  Mahomet  Sirocco,  the 
Moslem  admiral,  was  sunk  ;  and  though  extricated  from  the  water  himself,  it 
was  only  to  perish  by  the  sword  of  his  conqueror,  Giovanni  Contarini.  The 
Venetian  could  find  in  his  heart  no  mercy  for  the  Turk. 

The  fall  of  their  commander  gave  the  final  blow  to  his  followers.  Without 
further  attempt  to  prolong  the  fight,  they  rled  before  the  avenging  swords  of 
the  Venetians.  Those  nearest  the  land  endeavoured  to  escape  by  running 
their  vessels  ashore,  where  they  abandoned  them  as  prizes  to  the  Christians. 
Yet  many  of  the  fugitives,  before  gaining  the  land,  perished  miserably  in  the 
waves.  Barbarigo,  the  Venetian  admiral,  who  was  still  lingering  in  agony, 
heard  the  tidings  of  the  enemy's  defeat,  and,  uttering  a  few  words  expressive 
of  his  gratitude  to  Heaven,  which  haa  permitted  him  to  see  this  hour,  he 
breathed  his  last." 

During  this  time  the  combat  had  been  going  forward  in  the  centre  between 
the  two  commanders-in-chief,  Don  John  and  All  Pasha,  whose  galleys  blazed 
with  an  incessant  fire  of  artillery  and  musketry,  that  enveloped  them  like  "  a 
martyr's  robe  of  flames."  The  parties  fought  with  equal  spirit,  though  not 
with  equal  fortune.  Twice  the  Spaniards  had  boarded  their  enemy,  and  both 
times  they  had  been  repulsed  with  loss.  Still,  their  superiority  in  the  use  of 
fire-arms  would  have  given  them  a  decided  advantage  over  their  opponents 
if  the  loss  they  had  inflicted  had  not  been  speedily  repaired  by  fresh  reinforce- 
ments. More  than  once  the  contest  between  the  two  chieftains  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  arrival  of  others  to  take  part  in  the  fray.  They  soon,  however, 
returned  to  each  other,  as  if  unwilling  to  waste  their  strength  on  a  meaner 
enemy.  Through  the  whole  engagement  both  commanders  exposed  themselves 
to  danger  as  freely  as  any  common  soldier.  In  such  a  contest  even  Philip 
must  have  admitted  that  it  would  be  difficult  for  his  brother  to  find,  with 
honour,  a  place  of  safety.  Don  John  received  a  wound  in  the  foot.  It  was  a 
slight  one,  however,  and  he  would  not  allow  it  to  be  dressed  till  the  action 
was  over. 

Again  his  men  were  mustered,  and  a  third  time  the  trumpets  sounded  to 
the  attack.  It  was  more  successful  than  the  preceding.  The  Spaniards  threw 
themselves  boldly  into  the  Turkish  galley.  They  were  met  with  the  same 
spirit  as  before  by  the  janizaries.  Ah  Pasha  led  them  on.  Unfortunately,  at 
this  moment  he  was  struck  in  the  head  by  a  musket-ball  and  stretched  sense- 
less in  the  gangway.  His  men  fought  worthily  of  their  ancient  renown.  But 
they  missed  the  accustomed  voice  of  their  commander.  After  a  short  but 
ineffectual  struggle  against  the  fiery  impetuosity  of  the  Spaniards,  they  were 
overpowered  and  threw  down  their  arms.  The  decks  were  loaded  with  the 
bodies  of  the  dead  and  the  dying.  Beneath  these  was  discovered  the  Turkish 
commander-in-chief,  severely  wounded,  but  perhaps  not  mortally.  He  was 
drawn  forth  by  some  Castilian  soldiers,  who,  recognizing  his  person,  would  at 
once  have  despatched  him.  But  the  disabled  chief,  having  rallied  from  the 
first  effects  of  his  wound,  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  divert  them  from 
their  purpose  by  pointing  out  the  place  below  where  he  had  deposited  his 
money  and  jewels  ;  and  they  hastened  to  profit  by  the  disclosure  before  the 
treasure  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  their  comrades. 

pendon,  te  puso  delante  do  todos  as-i  draar-  era  ganada  dijo :  qne  daba  grarlas  a  Pios  que 

mado  como  estava,  y  fue  el  prlmero  que  entro  lo  hubiese  guardado  tanto  que  viese  venclda 

en   la   GaJera  Turqueoco,   haziendo    cuu   su  la  baialla  y  roto  aquel  comun  enemigo  quo 

Alabarda    codas    que     poniaii    adnilracioii."  tanto  dcaeO   vcr  dratruido."     Herrera,  Kela- 

Torres  r  Aguliera,  Chronicas,  fol.  75.  cion  de  la    Otierra    de    Cipro,    Document** 

"  "  VirUS  hasta  que  eablendo  que  la  vitorta  ineditoe,  torn.  xxl.  p.  360. 


628  WAR  WITH   THE  TURKS. 

* 

AH  was  not  so  successful  with  another  soldier,  who  came  up  soon  after* 
brandishing  his  sword  and  preparing  to  plunge  it  into  the  body  of  the  prostrate 
commander.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  latter  endeavoured  to  turn  the  ruffian 
from  his  purpose.  He  was  a  convict,  one  of  those  galley-slaves  whom  Don 
John  had  caused  to  be  unchained  from  the  oar  and  furnished  with  arms.  He 
could  not  believe  that  any  treasure  would  be  worth  so  much  as  the  head  of  the 
pacha.  Without  further  hesitation,  he  dealt  him  a  blow  which  severed  it  from 
his  shoulders.  Then,  returning  to  his  galley,  he  laid  the  bloody  trophy  before 
Don  John.  But  he  had  miscalculated  on  his  recompense.  His  commander 
gazed  on  it  with  a  look  of  pity  mingled  with  horror.  He  may  have  thought  of 
the  generous  conduct  of  Ali  to  his  Christian  captives,  and  have  felt  that  he 
deserved  a  better  fate.  He  coldly  inquired  "  of  what  use  such  a  present  could 
be  to  him,"  and  then  ordered  it  to  be  thrown  into  the  sea.  Far  from  the  order 
being  obeyed,  it  is  said  the  head  was  stuck  on  a  pike  and  raised  aloft  on  board 
of  the  captured  galley.  At  the  same  time  the  banner  of  the  Crescent  was 
pulled  down  ;  while  that  of  the  Cross,  run  up  in  its  place,  proclaimed  the 
downfall  of  the  pacha.18  . 

The  sight  of  the  sacred  ensign  was  welcomed  by  the  Christians  with  a  shout 
of  "  Victory  !"  which  rose  high  above  the  din  of  battle.1'  The  tidings  of  the 
death  of  Ali  soon  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  giving  fresh  heart  to  the  con- 
federates, but  falling  like  a  knell  on  the  ears  of  the  Moslems.  Their  confidence 
was  gone.  Their  fire  slackened.  Their  efforts  grew  weaker  and  weaker. 
They  were  too  far  from  shore  to  seek  an  asylum  there,  like  their  comrades  on 
the  right.  They  had  no  resource  but  to  prolong  the  combat  or  to  surrender. 
Most  preferred  the  latter.  Many  vessels  were  carried  by  boarding,  others 
were  sunk  by  the  victorious  Christians.  Ere  four  hours  had  elapsed,  the 
centre,  like  the  right  wing,  of  the  Moslems  might  be  said  to  be  annihilated. 

Still  the  fight  was  lingering  on  the  right  of  the  confederates,  where,  it  will 
be  remembered,  Uluch  Ali,  the  Algerine  chief,  had  profited  by  Doria's  error 
in  extending  his  line  so  far  as  greatly  to  weaken  it.  Uluch  Ali,  attacking  it 
on  its  most  vulnerable  quarter,  had  succeeded,  as  we  have  seen,  in  capturing 
and  destroying  several  vessels,  and  would  have  inflicted  still  heavier  losses  on 
his  enemy  had  it  not  been  for  the  seasonable  succour  received  from  the 
marquis  of  Santa  Cruz.  This  brave  officer,  who  commanded  the  reserve,  had 
already  been  of  much  service  to  Don  John  when  the  Real  was  assailed  by 
several  Turkish  galleys  at  once  during  his  combat  with  Ali  Pasha ;  for  at  this 
juncture  the  marquis  of  Santa  Cruz  arriving,  and  beating  oft  the  assailants, 
one  of  whom  he  afterwards  captured,  enabled  the  commander-iu-chief  to 
resume  his  engagement  with  the  pacha. 

No  sooner   did  Santa  Cruz  learn  the  critical  situation  of  Doria  than, 

"  "Relacion   de  la  Batalla  naval,  MS. —  able  that  no  more  miracles  occurred  on  this 

Herrera,  Hist,  general,  torn.  ii.  p.  33. — Paruta,  occasion. 

Guerra  di  Cipro,  pp.   157,  158.     Documentos  "  Torres  y  Aguilera,  Chronica,  fol.  72,  et 

ineditos,  ton*  iii.  p.  214.— Torres  y  Aguilera  eeq.— Relacion  de   la  Batalla    naval,   MS.— 

tells  a  rather  extraordinary  anecdote  respect-  Vanderhammen,  Don   Juan  de  Austria,  fol. 

ing  the  (treat  standard  of  the  League  in  the  182. — Documentos  ineditof,  torn.  iii.  p.  247, 

Keal.     The  figure  of  Christ  emblazoned  on  it  et  seq.— Paruta,  Guerra  di  Cipro,  p.   168  — 

was  not  hit  by  a  ball  or  arrow  during  the  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  ix.  cup.  25,  26. 
action,  notwithstanding  every  other  banner  ..  D6    ,  est«ndftrte  barbaro  abatido 

was  pierced  in  -multitude  of  places     Two  ?a  Cruz  ^  R^Sue  enarMad,, 

»rrows,however,lodgedoneithersideoftbecru-  triunfo  solene  v  erande  ttloria 

ciflx,  when  a  monkey  belonging  to  the  galley  SStan^btetaiSite  la  vHoria  " 

ran  up  the  mast,  and,  drawing  out  the  weapons  cantondo  ab  ^amente  la  ^ BruL 

with  his  teeth,  threw  them  overboard !    Chro-  i'IclUa'  U     ™"^"  ,'  P 

nica,  fol.   75.)    Considering  the  number  of 
ecclesiastics  on  board  the  fleet,  it  is  remark- 


ROUT  OF  THE  TURKISH  ARMADA.  629 

supported  by  Cardona,  "  general "  of  the  Sicilian  squadron,  he  pushed  forward 
to  liis  relief.  Dashing  into  the  midst  of  the  melee,  the  two  commanders  fell 
like  a  thunderbolt  on  the  Algerine  galleys.  Few  attempted  to  withstand  the 
shock.  But  in  their  haste  to  avoid  it  they  were  encountered  by  Doria  and 
his  Genoese  galleys.  Thus  beset  on  all  sides,  Uluch  AH  was  compelled  to 
abandon  his  prizes  and  provide  for  his  own  safety  by  flight.  He  cut  adrift 
the  Maltese  Capitana,  which  he  had  lashed  to  his  stern,  and  on  which  three 
hundred  corpses  attested  the  desperate  character  of  her  defence.  As  tidings 
reached  him  of  the  discomfiture  of  the  centre  and  of  the  death  of  Ali  Pasha,  he 
felt  that  nothing  remained  but  to  make  the  best  of  his  way  from  the  fatal 
scene  of  action  and  save  as  many  of  his  own  ships  as  he  could.  And  there 
were  no  ships  in  the  Turkish  fleet  superior  to  his,  or  manned  by  men  und(  r 
more  perfect  discipline.  For  they  were  the  famous  corsairs  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, who  had  been  rocked  from  infancy  on  its  waters. 

Throwing  out  his  signals  for  retreat,  the  Algerine  was  soon  to  be  seen,  at 
the  head  of  his  squadron,  standing  towards  the  north,  under  as  much  canvas 
as  remained  to  him  after  the  battle,  and  urged  forward  through  the  deep  by 
the  whole  strength  of  his  oarsmen.  Doria  and  Santa  Cruz  followed  quickly 
in  his  wake.  But  he  was  borne  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  and  soon  distanced 
his  pursuers.  Don  John,  having  disposed  of  his  own  assailants,  was  coming 
to  the  support  of  Doria,  and  now  joined  in  the  pursuit  of  the  viceroy.  A 
rocky  headland,  stretching  far  into  the  sea,  lay  in  the  path  of  the  fugitive  ; 
and  his  enemies  hoped  to  intercept  him  there.  Some  few  of  his  vessels  were 
stranded  on  the  rocks.  But  the  rest,  near  forty  in  number,  standing  more 
boldly  out  to  sea,  safely  doubled  the  promontory.  Then,  quickening  their 
flight,  they  gradually  faded  from  the  horizon,  their  white  sails,  the  last  thing 
visible,  showing  in  the  distance  like  a  flock  of  Arctic  sea-fowl  on  their  way  to 
their  native  homes.  The  confederates  explained  the  inferior  sailing  of  their 
own  galleys  on  this  occasion  by  the  circumstance  of  their  rowers,  who  had 
been  allowed  to  bear  arms  in  the  fight,  being  crippled  by  their  wounds. 

The  battle  had  lasted  more  than  four  hours.  The  sky,  which  had  been 
almost  without  a  cloud  through  the  day,  began  now  to  be  overcast,  and  showed 
signs  of  a  coming  storm.  Before  seeking  a  place  of  shelter  for  himself  and 
his  prizes,  Don  John  reconnoitred  the  scene  of  action.  He  met  with  several 
vessels  too  much  damaged  for  further  service.  These,  mostly  belonging  to  the 
enemy,  after  saving  what  was  of  any  value  on  board,  he  ordered  to  be  burnt 
He  selected  the  neighbouring  port  of  Petala,  as  affording  the  most  secure  and 
accessible  harbour  for  the  nignt.  Before  he  had  arrived  there,  the  tempest 
began  to  mutter  and  darkness  was  on  the  water.  Yet  the  darkness  rendered 
only  more  visible  the  blazing  wrecks,  which,  sending  up  streams  of  fire 
mingled  with  showers  of  sparks,  looked  like  volcanoes  on  the  deep. 


630  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

WAK  WITH   THE   TTJRKS. 

Losses  of  the  Combatants— Don  John's  Generosity — Triumphant  Return — Enthusiasm  through- 
out Christendom — Results  of  the  Battle— Operations  in  the  Levant — Conquest  of  Tunis- 
Retaken  by  the  Turks. 

1571-1574. 

LONG  and  loud  were  the  congratulations  now  paid  to  the  young  commander- 
in-chief,  by  his  brave  companions  in  arms,  on  the  success  of  the  day.  The 
hours  passed  blithely  with  officers  and  men,  while  they  recounted  to  one 
another  their  manifold  achievements.  But  feelings  of  gloom  mingled  with 
gayety,  as  they  gathered  tidings  of  the  loss  of  friends  who  had  bought  this 
victory  with  their  blood. 

It  was  indeed  a  sanguinary  battle,  surpassing  in  this  particular  any  sea- 
fight  of  modern  times.  The  loss  fell  much  the  most  heavily  on  the  Turks. 
There  is  the  usual  discrepancy  about  numbers  ;  but  it  may  be  safe  to  estimate 
their  loss  at  nearly  twenty-five  thousand  slain  and  five  thousand  prisoners. 
What  brought  most  pleasure  to  the  hearts  of  the  conquerors  was  the  libera- 
tion of  twelve  thousand  Christian  captives,  who  had  been  chained  to  the  oar 
on  board  the  Moslem  galleys,  and  who  now  came  forth,  with  tears  of  joy 
streaming  down  their  haggard  cheeks,  to  bless  their  deliverers.1 

The  loss  of  the  allies  was  comparatively  small,— less  than  eight  thousand.2 
That  it  was  so  much  less  than  that  of  their  enemies  may  be  referred  in  part 
to  their  superiority  in  the  use  of  fire-arms  ;  in  part  also  to  their  exclusive  use 
of  these,  instead  of  employing  bows  and  arrows,  weapons  on  which,  though 
much  less  effective,  the  Turks,  like  the  other  Moslem  nations,  seem  to  have 

freatly  relied.  Lastly,  the  Turks  were  the  vanquished  party,  and  in  their 
eavier  loss  suffered  the  almost  invariable  lot  of  the  vanquished! 
As  to  their  armada,  it  may  almost  be  said  to  have  been  annihilated.  Not 
more  than  forty  galleys  escaped  out  of  near  two  hundred  and  fifty  which 
entered  into  the  action.  One  hundred  and  thirty  were  taken  and  divided 
among  the  conquerors.  The  remainder,  sunk  or  burned,  were  swallowed  up 
by  the  waves.  To  counterbalance  all  this,  the  confederates  are  said  to  have 
lost  not  more  than  fifteen  galleys,  though  a  much  larger  number,  doubtless, 
were  rendered  unfit  for  service.  This  disparity  affords  good  evidence  of  the 
inferiority  of  the  Turks  in  the  construction  of  their  vessels,  as  well  as  in  the 
nautical  skill  required  to  manage  them.  A  great  amount  of  booty,  in 
the  form  of  gold,  jewels,  and  brocade,  was  found  on  board  several  of  the 
prizes.  The  galley  of  the  commander-in- chief  alone  is  stated  to  have  contained 
one  hundred  and  seventy  thousand  gold  sequins, — a  large  sum,  but  not  large 
enough,  it  seems,  to  buy  off  his  life.3 

1  The  loss  of  the  Moslems  is  little  better  *   Rosell  computes  the  total  loss  of  the 

than  matter  of  conjecture,  so  contradictory  are  allies  at  not  less  than  seven  thousand   six 

the  authorities.    The  author  of  the  Leyden  MS.  hundred;    of    whom    one    thousand    were 

dismisses  the  subject  with  the  remark,  "  La  Romans,  two  thousand  Spaniards,   and  the 

gente  muerta  de  Turcos  no  se  ha  podido  saber  remainder  Venetians.     Ibid.,  p.  113. 

por  que  la  que  se  hecho  en  la  mar  fuera  de  los  a  Ibid.,    ubi    supra. — Torres    y    Aguilera, 

degollados  fueron  infinites."      I  have    con-  Chronica,  fol.   74.  et  seq. — Documentos  ine'- 

formed,  as  in  my  other  estimates,  to  those  of  ditos,  torn.  iii.  pp.  246-249  ;  torn.  xi.  p.  3  0. 

Rpfior  Resell,  Historia  del  Coml'ate  naval,  p.  — Sagralo,  Monarcas  Othomanos,  pp.  295,  296, 

118.  — Relacion  de  la  Batalla  naval,  MS. 


LOSSES  OF  THE  COMBATANTS.  631 

The  losses  of  the  combatants  cannot  be  fairly  presented  without  taking 
into  the  account  the  quality  as  well  as  the  number  of  the  slain.  The  number 
of  persons  of  consideration,  both  Christians  and  Moslems,  who  embarked  in 
the  expedition,  was  very  great.  The  roll  of  slaughter  showed  that  in  the  race 
of  glory  they  gave  little  heed  to  then:  personal  safety.  The  officer  second  in 
command  among  the  Venetians,  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  Turkish 
armament,  and  the  commander  of  its  right  wing,  all  fell  in  the  battle.  Many 
a  high-born  cavalier  closed  at  Lepanto  a  long  career  of  honourable  service. 
More  than  one,  on  the  other  hand,  dated  the  commencement  of  their  career 
from  this  day.  Such  was  Alexander  Farnese,  prince  of  Parma.  Though  he 
was  but  a  few  years  younger  than  his  uncle,  John  of  Austria,  those  few  years 
had  placed  an  immense  distance  between  their  conditions,  the  one  filling  the 
post  of  commander-in-chief,  the  other  being  only  a  private  adventurer.  Yet 
even  so  he  succeeded  in  winning  great  renown  by  his  achievements.  The 
galley  in  which  he  sailed  was  lying,  yard-arm  and  yard-arm,  alongside  of  a 
Turkish  galley,  with  which  it  was  hotly  engaged.  In  the  midst  of  the  action 
Farnese  sprang  on  board  of  the  enemy  and  with  his  good  broad-sword 
hewed  down  all  who  opposed  him,  opening  a  path  into  which  his  comrades 
jxmred  one  after  another,  and,  after  a  short  but  murderous  contest,  succeeded 
in  carrying  the  vessel  As  Farnese's  galley  lay  just  astern  of  Don  John's,  the 
latter  could  witness  the  achievement  of  his  nephew,  which  filled  him  with 
an  admiration  he  did  not  attect  to  conceal.  The  intrepidity  displayed  by  the 
young  warrior  on  this  occasion  gave  augury  of  his  character  in  later  life,  when 
ne  succeeded  his  uncle  in  command  and  surpassed  him  in  military  renown.4 

Another  youth  was  in  that  fight,  who,  then  humble  and  unknown,  was 
destined  one  day  to  win  laurels  of  a  purer  and  more  enviable  kind  than  those 
which  grow  on  the  battle-field.  This  was  Cervantes,  who  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
four  was  serving  on  board  the  fleet  as  a  common  soldier.  He  had  been  con- 
fined to  his  bed  by  a  fever ;  but,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrances  of  his 
captain,  he  insisted,  on  the  morning  of  the  action,  not  only  on  bearing  arms, 
but  on  being  stationed  in  the  post  of  danger.  And  well  did  he  perform  his 
duty  there,  as  was  shown  by  two  wounds  on  the  breast,  and  by  another  in  the 
hand,  by  which  he  lost  the  use  of  it.  Fortunately,  it  was  the  left  hand.  The 
right  yet  remained  to  indite  those  immortal  productions  which  were  to  be 
known  as  household  words,  not  only  in  his  own  land,  but  in  every  quarter  of 
the  civilized  world.5 

A  fierce  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning  raged  for  four-and-twenty  hours 
after  the  battle,  during  which  time  the  fleet  rode  safely  at  anchor  in  the 
harbour  of  Petala.  It  remained  there  three  days  longer.  Don  John  profited 
by  the  delay  to  visit  the  different  galleys  and  ascertain  their  condition.  He 
informed  himself  of  the  conduct  of  the  troops,  and  was  liberal  of  his  praises  to 
those  who  deserved  them.  With  the  sick  and  the  wounded  he  showed  the 
greatest  sympathy,  endeavouring  to  alleviate  their  sufferings,  and  furnishing 
them  with  whatever  his  galley  contained  that  coulil  contribute  to  their  com- 
fort. With  so  generous  and  syrnj>athetic  a  nature,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  he 
should  have  established  himself  in  the  hearts  of  his  soldiers.* 

4  Relation  de  la  Raul  la  naval,  M.S.— Him  the  second  part  of  Don  Quixote,  alluding  to 

John  notices  this  achievement  of  hU  gallant  Lcpanto,  enthusiastically  exclaims  that,  for 

k'n-iiiHii  in  the  first  letter  which  he  wrote  to  all  his  wounds,  he  would  not  have  missed  the 

I'lilllp  after  the  action.  The  letter,  dated  at  Rlory  of  being  present  on  that  day  :  "Quisicra 

ivtala,  October  10th,  is  published  by  Aparicl,  antes  h.ibenue  ballado  en  aquella  faccion 

r>ocumentos  Inedito*  relative*  4  la  Batalla  de  prodigi^sa,  que  sano  ahora  de  mis  beridus,  sin 

1.  parit.i.  p.  26.  huberme  hallado  en  ella." 

*  Navarete,  VWa  Af  Cervantes  (Madrid,  •  This  humane  conduct  of  Don  John  is 

l»l'J).  p.  19. — Cervantes,  lu  the  prologue  to  mentioned, among  other  writers,  by  tho  author 


632  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

But  the  proofs  of  this  kindly  temper  were  not  confined  to  his  own  followers. 
Among  the  prisoners  were  two  sons  of  Ali,  the  Turkish  commander-in-chief. 
One  was  seventeen,  the  other  only  thirteen  years  of  age.  Thus  early  had 
their  father  desired  to  initiate  them  in  a  profession  which,  beyond  all  others, 
opened  the  way  to  eminence  in  Turkey.  They  were  not  on  board  of  his  galley  ; 
and  when  they  were  informed  of  his  death  they  were  inconsolable.  To  this 
affliction  was  now  to  be  added  the  doom  of  slavery. 

As  they  were  led  into  the  presence  of  Don  John,  the  youths  prostrated 
themselves  on  the  deck  of  his  vessel.  But,  raising  them  up,  he  affectionately 
embraced  them,  and  said  all  he  could  to  console  them  under  their  troubles. 
He  caused  them  to  be  treated  with  the  consideration  due  to  their  rank.  His 
secretary,  Juan  de  Soto,  surrendered  his  quarters  to  them.  They  were  pro- 
vided with  the  richest  apparel  that  could  be  found  among  the  spoil.  Their 
table  was  served  with  the  same  delicacies  as  that  of  the  commander-in-chief ; 
and  his  chamberlains  showed  the  same  deference  to  them  as  to  himself.  His 
kindness  did  not  stop  with  these  acts  of  chivalrous  courtesy.  He  received  a 
letter  from  their  sister  Fatima  containing  a  touching  appeal  to  Don  John's 
humanity  and  soliciting  the  release  of  her  orphan  brothers.  He  had  sent  a 
courier  to  give  their  friends  in  Constantinople  the  assurance  of  their  personal 
safety  ;  "  which,"  adds  the  lady,  M  is  held  oy  all  this  court  as  an  act  of  great 
courtesy, — gran  geitiileza  ; — and  there  is  no  one  here  who  does  not  admire 
the  goodness  and  magnanimity  of  your  highness."  -She  enforced  her  petition 
with  a  rich  present,  for  which  she  gracefully  apologized,  as  intended  to  express 
her  own  feelings,  though  far  below  his  deserts.7 

In  the  division  of  the  spoil,  the  young  princes  had  been  assigned  to  the 
pope.  But  Don  John  succeeded  in  obtaining  their  liberation.  Unfortunately, 
the  elder  died — of  a  broken  heart,  it  is  said — at  Naples.  The  younger  was 
sent  home,  with  three  of  his  attendants,  for  whom  he  had  a  particular  regard. 
Don  John  declined  keeping  Fatima's  present,  which  he  gave  to  her  brother.  In 
a  letter  to  the  Turkish  princess,  he  remarked  that  he  had  done  this,  not  because 
he  undervalued  her  beautiful  gift,  but  because  it  had  ever  been  the  habit  of 
his  royal  ancestors  freely  to  grant  their  favours  to  those  who  stood  in  need  of 
them,  but  not  to  receive  aught  by  way  of  recompense.8 

The  same  noble  nature  ne  snowed  in  his  conduct  towards  Veniero.  We 
have  seen  the  friendly  demonstration  he  made  to  the  testy  Venetian  on  enter- 
ing into  battle.  He  now  desired  hii  presence  on  board  his  galley.  As  he 
drew  near,  Don  John  came  forward  frankly  to  greet  him.  He  spoke  of  his 
desire  to  bury  the  past  in  oblivion,  and,  complimenting  the  veteran  on  his 
prowess  in  the  late  engagement,  saluted  him  with  the  endearing  name  of 
"father."  The  old  soldier,  not  prepared  for  so  kind  a  welcome,  burst  into 
tears  ;  and  there  was  no  one,  says  the  chronicler  who  tells  the  anecdote,  that 
could  witness  the  scene  with  a  dry  eye.9 

of  tho  Relacion  de   la  Batalla  naval,  whose  things,  robes  of  sable,  brocade,  and  various 

language    shows    that    his    manuscript  was  rich  stuffs,  fine  porcelain,  carpets  and  tapestry, 

written  on  the  spot :  "  El  queda  visitando  los  weapons  curiously  inlaid  with  gold  and  silver, 

heridos  y  procuran<lo  su  remrdio  haziendoles  and  Damascus  blades  ornamented  with  rubies 

merced  y  dandoles  todo  lo  que  aviase  menes-  and  turquoises. 

ter."    MS.  •  "El  present*  que  me  embio  dexe  de  re- 

7  "  Lo  qual  toda   esta  corte  tuvo  li  gran  scibir,  y  le  huvo  el  mismo  Mahamet  Bey,  no 

gentileza,  y  no  hazen  sino  alabar  la  virtud  y  porno  preciarle  como  cosa  venida de  su  mano, 

grandeza  de  vuestra  Alteza."    The  letter  of  sino  por  que  la  grandeza  de  mis  antecessorps 

Fatimi  is  to  be  found  in  Torres  y  Aguilera,  no  acusttimbra  rescihir  denes  de  los  necessi- 

Chronica  Cfol.   92).      The  chronicler  adds  a  tados  de  favor,  sino  darlos  yliazerles  gracias." 

list  of  th?,articles  sent  by  the  Turkish  princess  Torres  y  Aguilera,  Chronica,  fol.  94. 

to    Don    John,  enumerating,    among   other  *  According  to  some,  Don  John  was  in- 


TRIUMPHANT  RETURN.  633 

While  at  Petala,  a  council  of  war  was  called  to  decide  on  the  next  operations 
of  the  fleet.  Some  were  for  following  up  the  blow  by  an  immediate  attack  on 
Constantinople.  Others  considered  that,  from  the  want  of  provisions  and  the 
damaged  state  of  the  vessels,  they  were  in  no  condition  for  such  an  enterprise. 
They  recommended  that  the  armada  should  be  disbanded,  that  the  several 
squadrons  of  which  it  was  composed  should  return  to  their  respective  winter- 
quarters  and  meet  again  in  the  spring  to  resume  operations.  Others,  again, 
among  whom  was  Don  John,  thought  that  before  disbanding  they  should 
undertake  some  enterprise  commensurate  with  their  strength.  It  was  accord- 
ingly determined  to  lay  siege  to  Santa  Maura,  in  the  island  of  Leucadia, — a 
strongly-fortified  place,  which  commanded  the  northern  entrance  into  the 
gulf  of  Lepanto. 

The  fleet,  weighing  anchor  on  the  eleventh  of  October,  arrived  off  Santa 
Maura  on  the  following  day.  On  a  careful  reconnoissance  of  the  ground,  it 
became  evident  that  the  siege  would  be  a  work  of  much  greater  difficulty  than 
had  been  anticipated.  A  council  of  war  was  again  summoned  ;  and  it  was 
resolved,  as  the  season  was  far  advanced,  to  suspend  further  operations  for 
the  present,  to  return  to  winter-quarters,  and  in  the  ensuing  spring  to  open 
the  campaign  under  more  favourable  auspices. 

The  next  step  was  to  make  a  division  of  the  spoil  taken  from  the  enemy, 
which  was  done  in  a  manner  satisfactory  to  all  parties.  One-half  of  the 
galleys  and  inferior  vessels,  of  the  artillery  and  small  arms,  and  also  of  the 
captives,  was  set  apart  for  the  Catholic  King.  The  other  half  was  divided 
between  the  pope  and  the  republic,  in  the  proportion  settled  by  the  treaty  of 
confederation."  Next  proceeding  to  Corfu,  Don  John  passed  three  days  at 
that  island,  making  some  necessary  repairs  of  his  vessels  ;  then,  bidding  adieu 
to  the  confederates,  he  directed  his  course  to  Messina,  which  he  reached,  after 
a  stormy  passage,  on  the  thirty-first  of  the  month. 

We  may  imagine  the  joy  with  which  he  was  welcomed  by  the  inhabitants 
of  -that  city,  which  he  had  left  but  little  more  than  six  weeks  before,  and  to 
which  he  had  now  returned  in  triumph,  after  winning  the  most  memorable  naval 
victory  of  modern  times.  The  whole  population,  with  the  magistrates  at  their 
head,  hurried  down  to  the  shore  to  witness  the  magnificent  spectacle.  As  the 
gallant  armament  swept  into  port,  it  showed  the  results  of  the  late  contest  in 
many  a  scar.  But  the  consecrated  standard  was  still  proudly  flying  at  the 
mast-head  of  the  Real ;  and  in  the  rear  came  the  long  line  of  conquered 
galleys,  in  much  worse  plight  than  their  conquerors,  trailing  their  banners 
ignominiously  behind  them  through  the  water.  On  landing  at  the  head  of 
his  troops,  Don  John  was  greeted  with  flourishes  of  music,  while  salvoes  of 

duced  by  the  persuasion  of  his  friends  to  make  cern  for  the  honour  of  his  nation.     A  few 

these    advances    to    the    Venetian    admiral.  years  latrr  they  made  ample  amends  to  the 

(See  Torres  y  Aguilera,  Chronica,  fol.  75, —  veteran  for  the  slight  put  on  him,  by  raising 

Vanderliamriicn,  lion  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  him  to  the  highest  dignity  in   the  republic. 

133  )     It  is  certain  be  could  not  erase  the  He  wan  the  third  of  his  family  who  held  tb« 

memory  of  the   past  from    bis    bosom,  as  office  of  doge,  to  which  be  was  chosen  In  1576, 

appears  from  more  than  one  of  his  letters,  In  and  in  which  he  continued  till  bis  death, 
which  he  speaks  of  the  difficulty  he  should  '"  The  spoil  found  on  board  the  Turkish 

find,  in  another  campaign.  In  acting  in  concert  ships  was  abandoned  to  the  captors.    There 

with  a  man  of  so  choleric   a  temper.      In  wns  enough  of  It  to  make  many  a  needy 

consequence  the  Venetian   government  was  advtnturerrtcb.     "  Assi  por  la  victoria  havida 

induced,  though  very  reluctantly,  to  employ  como  purque  inuchos  venian  tan  ricos  y  pro- 

Veniero  on  another  service.     In  truth,  tin;  cp» radue  que  no  havia  bombre  que  se  preciasse 

conduct  which  u.«l  so  much  disgusted   Ifen  de  gastar  moneda  de  pUta  sino  Zequines  ni 

John  and  the  allies  seems    to  have   found  curasw  de  regatear  en  naiti  que  uomprassc." 

favour    with    Venlero's    countrymen,    who  Tonvs  y  Aguilera,  Cbronlca,  fol.  79. 
regarded  it  as  evidence  of  his  sensitive  con- 


634  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

artillery  thundered  from  the  fortresses  which  commanded  the  city.  He  was 
received  under,  a  gorgeous  canopy,  and  escorted  by  a  numerous  concourse  of 
citizens  and  soldiers.  The  clergy,  mingling  in  the  procession,  broke  forth  into 
the  Te  Deum  ;  and,  thus  entering  the  cathedral,  they  all  joined  in  thanks- 
givings to  the  Almighty  for  granting  them  so  glorious  a  victory.11 

Don  John  was  sumptuously  lodged  in  the  castle.  He  was  complimented 
with  a  superb  banquet, — a  mode  of  expressing  the  public  gratitude  not  confined 
to  our  day, — and  received  a  more  substantial  guerdon  in  a  present  from  the 
city  of  thirty  thousand  crowns.  Finally,  a  colossal  statue  in  bronze  was 
executed  by  a  skilful  artist,  as  a  permanent  memorial  of  the  conqueror  of 
Lepanto.  Don  John  accepted  the  money ;  but  it  was  only  to  devote  it  to  the 
relief  of  the  sick  and  wourided  soldiers.  In  the  same  generous  spirit,  he  had 
ordered  that  all  his  own  share  of  the  booty  taken  in  the  Turkish  vessels,  in- 
cluding the  large  amount  of  gold  and  rich  brocades  found  in  the  galley  of  Ali 
Pasha,  should  be  distributed  among  the  captors.12 

The  news  of  the  victory  of  Lepanto  caused  a  profound  sensation  throughout 
Christendom  ;  for  it  had  been  a  general  opinion  that  the  Turks  were  invincible 
by  sea.  The  confederates  more  particularly  testified  their  joy  by  such  extra- 
ordinary demonstrations  as  showed  the  extent  of  their  previous  fears.  In 
Venice,  which  might  be  said  to  have  gained  a  new  lease  of  existence  from  the 
result  of  the  battle,  the  doge,  the  senators,  and  the  people  met  in  the  great 
square  of  St.  Mark  and  congratulated  one  another  on  the  triumph  of  their 
arms.  By  a  public  decree,  the  seventh  of  October  was  set  apart  to  be  observed 
for  ever  as  a  national  anniversary. 

The  joy  was  scarcely  less  in  Naples,  where  the  people  had  so  often  seen  their 
coasts  desolated  by  the  Ottoman  cruisers ;  and  when  their  admiral,  the 
marquis  of  Santa  Cruz,  returned  to  port  with  his  squadron,  he  was  welcomed 
with  acclamations  such  as  greet  the  conqueror  returning  from  his  campaign. 

But  even  these  honours  were  inferior  to  those  which  in  Rome  were  paid  to 
Colonna,  the  captain-general  of  the  papal  fleet.  As  he  was  borne  in  stately 
procession,  with  the  trophies  won  from  the  enemy  carried  before  him,  and  a 
throng  of  mourning  captives  in  the  rear,  the  spectacle  recalled  the  splendours 
of  the  ancient  Roman  triumph.  Pius  the  Fifth  had,  before  this,  announced 
that  the  victory  of  the  Christians  had  been  revealed  to  him  from  Heaven. 
But  when  the  tidings  reached  him  of  the  actual  result,  it  so  far  transcended 
his  expectations  that,  overcome  by  his  emotions,  the  old  pontiff  burst  into  a 
flood  of  tears,  exclaiming,  in  the  words  of  the  Evangelist,  "  There  was  a  man 
sent  from  God ;  and  his  name  was  John."  1J 

We  may  readily  believe  that  the  joy  with  which  the  glad  tidings  were 
welcomed  in  Spain  fell  nothing  short  of  that  with  which  they  were  received 
in  other  parts  of  Christendom.  While  lying  off  Petala,  Don  John  sent  Lope 
de  Figueroa  with  despatches  for  the  king,  together  with  the  great  Ottoman 
standard,  as  the  most  glorious  trophy  taken  in  the  battle.14  He  soon  after 

11  For  the  preceding  pages  see  Vanderham-  Sino  que  entre  los  soldadoe 

men,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  186,— Torres  Fuese  todo  repartido 

y  Aguilera,  Chronlca,  fol.  79,— Cabrera,  Filipe  En  premio  de  sus  trabajos 

fVgundo,  p.  696, — Herrera,  Historia  general,  Pues  lo  habian  merecido." 

torn.  11.   p.   37,— Ferreras,   Hist.  d'Kspagne,  Duran,  Komancero  general  (Madrid, 
torn.  x.  p.  261.  1851),  torn.  11.  p.  185. 

"  0lH  T  f"r^  tbiU!L ^commemorate8  thi8  "  Lorea,  Vida  de  Pio  Quinto,  cap.  xxiv.  $ 

conduct  of  Dou  John  :  H.-Torres  y  Aguilera,  Chrunica,  fol.  80.-- 

Y  ansl  seda  como  de  oro  Resell,  Historia  del  Combate  naval,  pp.  124, 

Ninguno  cosa  ha  querido  125. 

Don  Juan,  como  liberal,  '*  Philip,  in  a  letter  to  his  brother  dated 

Por  mostrar  do  ha  descendido,  from  the  Escorial  in  the  following  November, 


ENTHUSIASM  THROUGHOUT  CHRISTENDOM.  635 

sent  a  courier  with  further  letters.  It  so  happened  that  neither  the  one  nor 
the  other  arrived  at  the  place  of  their  destination  till  some  weeks  after  the 
intelligence  had  reached  Philip  by  another  channel.  This  was  the  Vene- 
tian minister,  who  on  the  last  of  October  received  despatches  from  his  own 
government,  containing  a  full  account  of  the  fight.  Hastening  with  them  to 
the  palace,  he  found  the  king  in  his  private  chapel,  attending  vespers  on  the 
eve  of  All-Saints.  The  news,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  filled  his  soul  with  joy  ; 
though  it  is  said  that,  far  from  exhibiting  this  in  his  demeanour,  he  continued 
to  be  occupied  with  his  devotions,  without  the  least  change  of  countenance,  till 
the  services  were  concluded.  He  then  ordered  Te  Deum  to  be  sung.1*  All 
present  joined,  with  overflowing  hearts,  in  pouring  forth  their  gratitude  to  the 
Lord  of  Hosts  for  granting  such  a  triumph  to  the  Cross.16 

That  night  there  was  a  grand  illumination  in  Madrid.  The  following  day 
mass  was  said  by  the  papal  legate  in  presence  of  the  king,  who  afterwards 
took  part  hi  a  solemn  procession  to  the  church  of  St.  Mary,  where  the  people 
united  with  the  court  in  a  general  thanksgiving. 

In  a  letter  from  Philip  to  his  brother,  dated  from  the  Escorial,  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  November,  he  writes  to  him  out  of  the  fulness  of  his  heart,  in  the 
language  of  gratitude  and  brotherly  love  :  "  I  cannot  express  to  you  the  joy  it 
has  given  me  to  learn  the  particulars  of  your  conduct  in  the  battle,  of  the 
great  valour  you  showed  in  your  own  person,  and  your  watchfulness  in  giving 
proper  directions  to  others, — all  of  which  has  doubtless  been  a  principal  cause 
of  the  victory.  So  to  you,  after  God,  I  am  to  make  my  acknowledgments  for 
it,  as  I  now  do ;  and  happy  am  I  that  it  has  been  reserved  for  one  so  near  and 
so  dear  to  me  to  perform  this  great  work,  which  has  gained  such  glory  for  you 
in  the  eyes  of  God  and  of  the  whole  world."  l7 

The  feelings  of  the  king  were  fully  shared  by  his  subjects.  The  enthusiasm 
roused  throughout  the  country  by  the  great  victory  was  without  bounds. 
"  There  is  no  man,"  writes  one  of  the  royal  secretaries  to  Don  John,  "  who 
does  not  discern  the  hand  of  the  Lord  in  it ; — though  it  seems  rather  like  a 
dream  than  a  reality,  so  far  does  it  transcend  any  naval  encounter  that  the 
world  ever  heard  of  before."  w  The  best  sculptors  and  painters  were  employed 

speaks  of  his  delight  at  receiving  this  trophy  John  of  Austria,  one  by  the  royal  secretary 
from  the  hands  of  Figueroa.  (See  the  letter,  Alzamora,  the  other  by  Philip  himself, 
ap.  Roeell,  Hist,  del  Combate  naval,  Apend.  According  to  their  account,  the  person  who 
No.  15.)  The  standard  was  deposited  in  the  first  conveyed  the  tidings  was  the  Venetian 
Kscorial,  where  it  was  destroyed  by  fire  in  the  minister ;  and  the  place  where  thry  were  re- 
year  1671.  Docnmentos  ineditos,  torn.  ill.  p.  ceived  by  the  king  was  the  private  chapel  of  the 
256.  palace  at  Madrid,  while  engaged  at  Vespers 

ii  My  S.  M.  no  sc  alter6,  nl  demud<5,  ni  on  All-Saints'  eve.      It  is  worthy  of  notice 

hizo  sentlmlento  algutio,  y  se  estuvo  con  el  that  the  secretary's  letter  contains  no  hint  of 

Bt-mblante    y   serenidad    que    antes   estaba,  the  nonchalance  with  which  Philip  is  said  to 

con  el  qua!  semblante  estuvo  basta  que  se  have  heard  the  tidings.  The  originals  of  these 

aca  baron  de  cantar  lar  vfspera*."     Memorias  interesting    despatches    still    exist    in    the 

de  Fray  Juan  de  San  Oeronimo,  Documentoa  National  Library  at  Madrid.    They  have  been 

inetiitos,  torn.  ill.  p.  238.  copied  by  Sefior  Rosell  fur  bis  memoir  (Apend. 

"  The  third  volume  of  the  Documentos  NOB.  13,  IS).    One  makes  little  progress   in 

inrditm  contains  a  copious  extract  from  a  history  before  finding  that  it  Is  much  easier 

manuscript  in  the  E-corial  written  by  a  Je-  to  repeat  an  error  than  to  correct  it. 

r.nyiiiit"  monk.      In  this  the  writer  states  '    "  Y  ansl  a  vos  (despues  de  Dios)  se  ha  de 

that  Philip  received  intelligence  of  the  victory  dar  el  parabien  y  las  gracias  della,  como  yo  os 

from  a  courier  despatched  by  !>>n  John,  while  las  doy,  y  a  mf  de  que  por  mano  de  perVona 

engaged  at  vespers  in  the  palace  monastery  que  tanto  me  toca  como  la  vuestra,  y  ii  qnien 

of  the   Rocorlal.     This  account   IK  the  one  yo  tanto  quiero,  se  h«ya  becho  un  tan  gran 

followed  by  Cabrera  (Filln*  Srgumlo,  p.  696)  negoclo,  y  ganado  vos  taut*  bonra  y  gloria 

and  by  the  principal  Coittllian   writers,     lu  con  Dios  y  con  todo  el  mundo."     Rosell,  His- 

Inaccuracy.  however,  is  sufficiently  utteMrd  torla  del  Combate  naval,  Ap^nd.  No.  1ft. 

by  two  letters  written  at  tbe  time  to  Don  "  CarU  del    secretarlo  Alumora  a    Don 


638  WAR  WITH  THE   TURKS. 

to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  glorious  event.  Among  the  number  was 
Titian,  who  in  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth  had  passed  two  years  in  Spain, 
and  who  now,  when  more  than  ninety  years  of  age,  executed  the  great  picture 
of  "  The  Victory  of  the  League,"  still  hanging  on  the  walls  of  the  Museo  at 
Madrid."  The  lofty  theme  proved  a  fruitful  source  of  inspiration  to  the 
Castilian  muse.  Among  hecatombs  of  epics  and  lyrics,  the  heroic  poem  of 
Ercilla20  and  the  sublime  cancion  of  Fernando  de  Herrera  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  the  victory  of  Lepanto  in  forms  more  durable  than  canvas  or  marble, 
— as  imperishable  as  the  language  itself. 

While  all  were  thus  ready  to  render  homage  to  the  talent  and  bravery  which 
had  won  the  greatest  battle  of  the  time,  men,  as  they  grew  cooler  and  could 
criticise  events  more  carefully,  were  disposed  to  ask,  where  were  the  fruits  of 
this  great  victory.  Had  Don  John's  father,  Charles  the  Fifth,  gained  such  a 
victory,  it  was  said,  he  would  not  thus  have  quitted  the  field,  but,  before  the 
enemy  could  recover  from  the  blow,  would  have  followed  it  up  by  another. 
Many  expressed  the  conviction  that  the  young  generalissimo  should  at  once 
have  led  his  navy  against  Constantinople. 

There  would  indeed  seem  to  be  plausible  ground  for  criticising  his  course 
after  the  action.  But  we  must  remember,  in  explanation  of  the  conduct  of 
Don  John,  that  his  situation  was  altogether  different  from  that  of  his  imperial 
father.  He  possessed  no  such  absolute  authority  as  the  latter  did  over  his 
army.  The  great  leaders  of  the  confederates  were  so  nearly  equal  in  rank  that 
they  each  claimed  a  right  to  be  consulted  on  all  measures  of  importance.  The 
greatest  jealousy  existed  among  the  three  commanders,  as  there  did  also 
among  the  troops  whom  they  commanded.  They  were  all  united,  it  is  true,  in 
their  hatred  to  the  Turk.  But  they  were  all  influenced,  more  or  less,  by  the 
interests  of  their  own  states,  in  determining  the  quarter  where*  he  was  to  be 
assailed.  Every  rood  of  territory  wrung  from  the  enemy  in  the  Levant  would 
only  serve  to  enlarge  the  domain  of  Venice;  while  the  conquests  in  the 
western  parts  of  the  Mediterranean  would  strengthen  the  empire  of  Castile. 
This  feeling  of  jealousy  between  the  Spaniards  and  the  Venetians  was,  as  we 
have  seen,  so  great  in  the  early  part  of  the  expedition  as  nearly  to  bring  ruin 
on  it. 

Those  who  censured  Don  John  for  not  directing  his  arras  against  Constanti- 
nople would  seem  to  have  had  but  a  very  inadequate  notion  of  the  resources 
of  the  Porte, — as  shown  in  the  course  of  that  very  year.  There  is  a  remark- 
able letter  from  the  duke  of  Alva,  written  the  month  after  the  battle  of 
Lepanto,  in  which  he  discusses  the  best  course  to  be  taken  in  order  to  reap  the 
full  fruits  of  the  victory.  In  it  he  expresses  the  opinion  that  an  attempt 
against  Constantinople,  or  indeed  any  part  of  the  Turkish  dominions,  unless 
supported  by  a  general  coalition  of  the  great  powers  of  Christendom,  must  end 
only  in  disappointment, — so  vast  were  the  resources  of  that  great  empire.21 
If  this  were  so, — and  no  better  judge  than  Alva  could  be  found  in  military 
affairs, — how  incompetent  were  the  means  at  Don  John's  disposal  for  effecting 

Juan  de  Austria,  Madrid,  Nov.  11,  1571,  ap.  makes  his  epic,  in  addition  to  its  poetical 
Rosell,  Historic  del  Combate  naval,  Apend.  merits,  of  considerable  value  as  historical  tea- 
No.  13.  timony. 

"  See  Ford,  Handbook  for  Spain,  vol.  ii.  p.  al  The  letter,  which  is  dated  Brussels,  Nov. 

697.  1 7th,  1571,  is  addressed  to  Juan  de  Zunipa,  the 

"°  Ercilla  has  devoted  the  twenty-fourth  Castilian  ambassador  at  the  court  of  Rome, 

canto  of  the  Araucana  to  the  splendid  episode  A  copy  from  a  manuscript  of  the  sixteenth 

of  the  battle  of  Lepanto.     If  Ercilla  was  not,  century,  in  the  library  of  the  duke  of  Ossuna, 

like  Cervantes,  present  in  the  fight,  his  ac-  is  inserted  in  the  Documented  ineditos,  torn 

quaintance   with  the  p  incipal  actors  in   it  ill  pp.  292-303. 


RESULTS  OF  THE  BATTLE.  637 

this  object, — confederates  held  together,  as  the  event  proved,  by  a  rope  of 
sand,  and  a  fleet  so  much  damaged  in  the  recent  combat  that  many  of  the 
vessels  were  scarcely  seaworthy  ! 

In  addition  to  this,  it  may  be  stated  that  Don  John  knew  it  was  his  brother's 
wish  that  the  Spanish  squadron  should  return  to  Sicily  to  pass  the  winter.*2 
If  he  persisted,  therefore,  in  the  campaign,  he  must  do  so  on  his  own  responsi- 
bility. He  had  now  accomplished  the  great  object  for  which  he  had  put  to  sea. 
He  had  won  a  victory  more  complete  than  the  most  sanguine  of  his  country- 
men had  a  right  to  anticipate.  To  prolong  the  contest  under  the  present 
circumstances  would  be  in  a  manner  to  provoke  his  fate,  to  jeopard  the  glory 
he  had  already  gained,  and  incur  the  risk  of  closing  the  campaign  with  melan- 
choly cypress,  instead  of  the  laurel-wreath  of  victory.  Was  it  surprising  that 
even  an  adventurous  spirit  like  his  should  have  shrunk  from  hazarding  so  vast 
a  stake  with  the  odds  against  him  ? 

It  is  a  great  error  to  speak  of  the  victory  of  Lepanto  as  a  barren  victory, 
which  yielded  no  fruits  to  tho^e  who  gained  it.  True,  'it  did  not  strip  the 
Turks  of  an  inch  of  territory.  Even  the  heavy  loss  of  ships  and  soldiers  which 
it  cost  them  was  repaired  in  the  following  year.  But  the  loss  of  reputation — 
that  tower  of  strength  to  the  conqueror— was  not  to  be  estimated.  The  long 
and  successful  career  of  the  Ottoman  princes,  especially  of  the  last  one,  Soly- 
man  the  Magnificent,  had  made  the  Turks  to  be  thought  invincible.  There 
was  not  a  nation  in  Christendom  that  did  not  tremble  at  the  idea  of  a  war 
with  Turkey.  The  spell  was  now  broken.  Though  her  resources  were  still 
boundless,  sne  lost  confidence  in  herself.  Venice  gained  confidence  in  propor- 
tion. When  the  hostile  fleets  met  in  the  year  following  the  battle  of  Lepanto, 
the  Turks,  though  greatly  the  superior  in  numbers,  declined  the  combat.  For 
the  seventy  years  which  elapsed  after  the  close  of  the  present  war,  the  Turks 
abandoned  their  efforts  to  make  themselves  masters  of  any  of  the  rich  posses- 
sions of  the  republic,  which  lay  so  temptingly  around  them.  When  tne  two 
nations  came  next  into  collision,  Venice,  instead  of  leaning  on  confederates, 
took  the  field  single-handed,  and  disputed  it  with  an  intrepidity  which  placed 
her  on  a  level  with  the  gigantic  power  that  assailed  her.  That  power  was 
already  on  the  wane ;  ana  those  who  have  most  carefully  studied  the  history  of 
the  Ottoman  empire  date  the  commencement  of  her  decline  from  the  battle  of 
Lepanto." 

The  allies  should  have  been  ready  with  their  several  contingents  early  in  the 
spring  of  the  following  year,  1572.  They  were  not  ready  till  the  summer  was 
well  advanced.  One  cause  of  delay  was  the  difficulty  of  deciding  on  what 
quarter  the  Turkish  empire  was  to  be  attacked.  The  Venetians,  from  an 
obvious  regard  to  their  own  interests,  were  for  continuing  the  war  in  the 
Levant.  Philip,  on  the  other  hand,  from  similar  motives,  would  have  trans- 
ferred it  to  the  western  part  of  the  Mediterranean  and  have  undertaken  an 
expedition  against  the  Barbary  powers.  Lastly,  Pius  the  Fifth,  urged  by  that 
fiery  enthusiasm  which  made  him  overlook  or  overleap  every  obstacle  in  his 
path,  would  have  marched  on  Constantinople  and  then  carried  his  conquering 
banners  to  the  Holy  Land.  These  chimerical  fancies  of  a  cnisader  provoked  a 

M  "Ya  havrela  entendido  la  rtrden  que  se  who  has  made  the  history  of  the  Ottoman 

Of  ha  dado  de  que  invemels  en  Medina,  y  las  empire  his  particular  study,  remarks,  "The 

causa*  dello."  Carta  del  Rey  &  su  lierinano,  Turks  lost  all  their  old  confidence  after  the 

ap.  Rosell,  Htatoria  del  Combate  naval,  Apeud.  battle  of  Lepanto.  They  had  tio  equal  to 

lio.  IS.  op|Hi«e  to  Juhn  of  Austria.  The  day  of 

"  See  Resell,  Hlstorla  del  Coml>ate  naval,  Lcpauto  broke  down  the  Ottoman  sitpre- 

P.  157.  —  tafuente.  Historla  de  frpafia  niacy."  Ottoman  and  Spanish  Empires  (.Eng. 

(Madrid.  I860),  torn.  xili.  p.  53».— Ratike,  trans.),  p.  23. 


638  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

smile — it  may  have  been  a  sneer — from  men  better  instructed  in  military 
operations  than  the  pontiff.24 

Pius  again  laboured  to  infuse  his  own  spirit  into  the  monarchs  of  Christen- 
dom. But  it  was  in  vain  that  he  urged  them  to  join  the  League.  All,  for 
some  reason  or  other,  declined  it.  It  is  possible  that  they  may  nave  had  less 
fear  of  the  Turk  than  of  augmenting  the  power  of  the  king  of  Spain.  But  the 
great  plans  of  Pius  the  Fifth  were  terminated  by  his  death,  which  occurred  on 
the  first  of  May,  1572.  He  was  the  true  author  of  the  League.  It  occupied 
his  thoughts  to  the  latest  hour  of  his  existence  ;  and  his  last  act  was  to  appro- 
priate to  its  uses  a  considerable  sum  of  money  lying  in  his  coffers.84  He  may 
be  truly  said  to  have  been  the  only  one  of  the  confederates  who  acted  solely 
for  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  interests  of  the  Faith.  This  soon  became 
apparent. 

The  affairs  of  Philip  the  Second  were  at  this  time  in  a  critical  situation. 
He  much  feared  that  one  of  the  French  faction  would  be  raised  to  the  chair  of 
St.  Peter.  He  had  great  reason  to  distrust  the  policy  of  France  in  respect  to 
the  Netherlands.  Till  he  was  more  assured  on  these  points,  he  was  not 
inclined  to  furnish  the  costly  armament  to  which  he  was  pledged  as  his  con- 
tingent. It  was  in  vain  that  the  allies  called  on  Don  John  to  aid  them  with 
the  Spanish  fleet.  He  had  orders  from  his  brother  not  to  quit  Messina ; 
and  it  was  in  vain  that  he  chafed  under  these  orders,  which  threatened  thus 
prematurely  to  close  the  glorious  career  on  which  he  had  entered,  and  which 
exposed  him  to  the  most  mortifying  imputations.  It  was  not  till  the  sixth  of 
July  that  the  king  allowed  him  to  send  a  part  of  his  contingent,  amounting 
only  to  twenty-two  galleys  and  five  thousand  troops,  to  the  aid  of  the  con- 
federates. 

Some  historians  explain  the  conduct  of  Philip  not  so  much  by  the  embar- 
rassments of  his  situation  as  by  his  reluctance  to  afford  his  brother  the 
opportunity  of  adding  fresh  laurels  to  his  brow,  and  possibly  of  achieving  for 
himself  some  independent  sovereignty,  like  that  to  which  Pius  the  Fifth  had 
encouraged  him  to  aspire.  It  may  be  thought  some  confirmation  of  this 
opinion — at  least  it  infers  some  jealousy  of  his  brother's  pretensions— that  in 
his  despatches  to  his  ministers  in  Italy  the  king  instructed  them  that,  while 
they  showed  all  proper  deference  to  Don  John,  they  should  be  careful  not  to 
address  him  in  speech  or  in  writing  by  the  title  of  His/finess,  but  to  use  that 
of  Excellency ;  adding  that  they  were  not  to  speak  of  this  suggestion  as 
coming  from  him.28  He  caused  a  similar  notice  to  be  given  to  the  ambassa- 
dors of  France,  Germany,  and  England.  This  was  but  a  feeble  thread  by 
which  to  check  the  flight  of  the  young  eagle  as  he  was  soaring  to  the  clouds. 
It  served  to  show,  however,  that  it  was  not  the  will  of  his  master  that  he 
should  soar  too  high. 

Happily,  Philip  was  relieved  from  his  fears  in  regard  to  the  new  pope  by 
the  election  of  Cardinal  Buoncampagno  to  the  vacant  throne.  This  ecclesiastic, 
who  took  the  name  of  Gregory  the  Thirteenth,  was  personally  known  to  the 
king,  having  in  earlier  life  passed  several  years  at  the  court  of  Castile.  He 
was  well  affected  to  that  court,  and  he  possessed  in  full  measure  the  zeal  of  his 
predecessor  for  carrying  on  the  war  against  the  Moslems.  He  lost  no  time  in 

"  "  Sn  Santidad  ha  de  querer  que  »e  gane  Carta  del  Duque  de  Alba,  ap.  Documentoa 

Con-tantinopla  y  la  Casa  Santa,  y  que  tendra  ineditos,  torn.  iii.  p.  300. 

muchos  que    le   quernin  adnlar  con    facili-  "  Ranke,    History    of    the    Popes    (Eng. 

tdreelo,  y  que  no  faltaran  entre  estos  algunos  trans.),  vol.  1.  p.  384. 

qne  hacen  profesion  de  s-ldados  y  que  como  *•  Lafuente,  Historia  de  Espafia,  torn,  xiii- 

su  Beatitud  no  pueden  calender  estas  cosas."  p.  530. 


OPERATIONS  IN  THE  LEVANT.  639 

sending  his  "  briefs  of  fire,"  "  as  Don  John  called  them,  to  rouse  him  to  new 
exertions  in  the  cause.  In  France,  too,  Philip  learned  with  satisfaction  that 
the  Guises,  the  devoted  partisans  of  Spain,  had  now  the  direction  of  public 
affairs.  Thus  relieved  from  apprehensions  on  these  two  quarters,  Philip  con- 
sented to  his  brother's  departure  with  the  remainder  or  his  squadron.  It 
amounted  to  fifty-five  galleys  and  thirty  smaller  vessels.  But  when  the  prince 
reached  Corfu,  on  the  ninth  of  August,  ne  found  that  the  confederates,  tired  of 
waiting,  had  already  put  to  sea,  under  the  command  of  Colonna,  in  search  of 
tne  Ottoman  fleet 

The  Porte  had  shown  such  extraordinary  despatch  that  in  six  months  it  had 
built  and  equipped  a  hundred  and  twenty  galleys,  making,  with  those  already 
on  hand,  a  formidable  fleet.*8  It  was  a  remarkable  proof  of  its  resources,  but 
suggests  the  idea  of  the  wide  difference  between  a  Turkish  galley  of  the  six- 
teenth century  and  a  man-of-war  in  our  day.  The  command  of  the  armament 
was  given  to  the  Algerine  chieftain  Uluch  Ali,  who  had  so  adroitly  managed 
to  bnng  off  the  few  vessels  which  effected  their  escape  at  the  battle  of  Lepanto. 
He  stood  deservedly  high  in  the  confidence  of  the  sultan,  and  had  the  supreme 
direction  in  maritime  affairs. 

The  two  fleets  came  face  to  face  with  each  other  off  the  western  coast  of  the 
Morea.  But,  though  the  Algerine  commander  was  much  superior  to  the 
Christians  in  the  number  and  strength  of  his  vessels,  he  declined  an  action, 
showing  the  same  adroitness  in  eluding  a  battle  that  he  had  before  shown  in 
escaping  from  one. 

At  the  close  of  August  the  confederates  returned  to  Corfu,  where  they  were 
reinforced  by  the  rest  of  the  Spanish  squadron.  The  combined  fleet,  with 
this  addition,  amounted  to  some  two  hundred  and  forty-seven  vessels,  of 
which  nearly  two-thirds  were  galleys.  It  was  a  force  somewhat  superior  to 
that  of  the  enemy.  Thus  strengthened,  Don  John,  unfurling  the  consecrated 
banner  of  generalissimo  of  the  League,  weighed  anchor,  ana  steered  with  his 
who'e  fleet  in  a  southerly  direction.  It  was  not  long  before  he  appeared  off 
the  harbours  of  Modon  and  Navarino,  where  the  two  divisions  of  the  Turkish 
armada  were  lying  at  anchor.  He  would  have  attacked  them  separately,  but, 
notwithstanding  his  efforts,  failed  to  prevent  their  effecting  a  junction  in  the 
harbour  of  Modon.  On  the  seventh  of  October,  Uluch  Ali  ventured  out  of 
port  and  seemed  disposed  to  give  battle.  It  was  the  anniversary  of  the  fight 
of  Lepanto  ;  and  Don  John  flattered  himself  that  he  should  again  see  his  arms 
crowned  with  victory,  as  on  that  memorable  day.  But  if  the  Turkish  com- 
niander  was  unwilling  to  fight  the  confederates  when  he  was  superior  to  them 
in  numbers,  it  was  not  likely  that  he  would  fight  them  now  that  he  was 
inferior.  After  some  manoeuvres  which  led  to  no  result,  he  took  refuge  under 
the  castle  of  Modon,  and  again  retreated  into  port.  There  Don  John  would 
have  followed  him,  with  the  design  of  forcing  him  to  a  battle.  But  from  this 
he  was  dissuaded  by  the  other  leaders  of  the  confederates,  who  considered 
that  the  chances  of  success  in  a  place  so  strongly  defended  by  no  means 
warranted  the  risk. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  allies  prolonged  their  stay  in  the  neighbourhood, 
with  the  hope  of  enticing  the  enemy  to  an  engagement  The  season  wore 
away  with  no  prospect  of  a  better  result  Meantime,  provisions  were  failing, 

"  "Breve*  de  fat-go."  l-afuente,  Historia  COM  che  rreerdo  prevrduta  e  pcrltta  da  me, 

de  Koparia,  torn.  xlil.  p.  529.  fu  cimlirata  pluttoeto  imporoibile  rhe  cre- 

**  ••  K  »l  e  vednto.  cue  qnando  gli  fu  data  la  dula."  Kelmzinne  di  Maicantino  Barbara, 

gran  rotU.  in  »H  mest  rifablTicft  cento  vent  I  1573,  Alberl,  Relazioni  Venete  torn.  in.  p. 

galere,  oltre  quelle  cbe  si  trovavauo  in  euere,  o06. 


640  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

the  stormy  weather  of  autumn  was  drawing  nigh,  and  Don  John,  disgusted 
with  what  he  regarded  as  the  timid  counsels  of  his  associates,  and  with  the 
control  which  they  were  permitted  to  exercise  over  him,  decided,  as  it  was  now 
too  late  for  any  new  enterprise,  to  break  up  and  postpone  further  action  till 
the  following  spring,  when  he  hoped  to  enter  on  the  campaign  at  an  earlier  day 
than  he  had  done  this  year.  The  allies,  accordingly,  on  reaching  the  island  of 
Paxo,  late  in  October,  parted  from  each  other,  and  withdrew  to  their  respective 
winter-quarters.  Don  John,  with  the  Spanish  armament,  returned  to  Sicily.2* 

The  pope  and  the  king  of  Spain,  nowise  discouraged  by  the  results  of  th'e 
campaign,  resolved  to  resume  operations  early  in  the  spring  on  a  still  more 
formidable  scale  than  before.  But  their  intentions  were  defeated  by  the 
startling  intelligence  that  Venice  had  entered  into  a  separate  treaty  with  the 
Porte.  The  treaty,  which  was  negotiated,  it  is  said,  through  the  intervention 
of  the  French  ambassador,  was  executed  on  the  seventh  of  March,  1573.  The 
terms  seemed  somewhat  extraordinary,  considering  the  relative  positions  of 
the  parties.  By  the  two  principal  articles,  the  republic  agreed  to  pay  the 
annual  sum  of  one  hundred  thousand  ducats  for  three  years  to  the  sultan,  and 
to  cede  the  island  of  Cyprus,  the  original  cause  of  the  war.  One  might  suppose 
it  was  the  Turks,  and  not  the  Christians,  who  had  won  the  battle  of  Le- 
panto.10 

Venice  was  a  commercial  state,  and  doubtless  had  more  to  gain  from  peace 
than  from  any  war,  however  well  conducted.  In  this  point  of  view,  even 
such  a  treaty  may  have  been  politic  with  so  formidable  an  enemy.  But  a 
nation's  interests,  in  the  long  run,  cannot,  any  more  than  those  of  an  in- 
dividual, be  divorced  from  its  honour.  And  what  could  be  more  dishonourable 
than  for  a  state  secretly  to  make  terms  for  herself  with  the  enemy,  and  desert 
the  allies  who  had  come  into  the  war  at  her  solicitation  and  in  her  defence  ? 
Such  conduct,  indeed,  was  too  much  in  harmony  with  the  past  history  of 
Venice,  and  justified  the  reputation  for  bad  faith  which  had  made  the 
European  nations  so  reluctant  to  enter  into  the  League.*1 

The  tidings  were  received  by  Philip  with  his  usual  composure.  "  If  Venice," 
he  said,  "  thinks  she  consults  her  own  interests  by  such  a  proceeding,  I  can 
truly  say  that  in  what  I  have  done  I  have  endeavoured  to  consult  both  her 
interests  and  those  of  Christendom."  He,  however,  spoke  his  mind  more 
plainly  afterwards  to  the  Venetian  ambassador.  The  pope  gave  free  vent  to 
his  feelings  in  the  consistory,  where  he  denounced  the  conduct  of  Venice  in  the 
most  bitter  and  contemptuous  terms.  When  the  republic  sent  a  special  envoy 
to  deprecate  his  anger  and  to  excuse  herself  by  the  embarrassments  of  her 
situation,  the  pontiff'  refused  to  see  him.  Don  John  would  not  believe  in  the 
defection  of  Venice  when  the  tidings  were  first  announced  to  him.  When  he 
was  advised  of  it  by  a  direct  communication  from  her  government,  he  replied 
by  indignantly  commanding  the  great  standard  of  the  League  to  be  torn  down 
from  his  galley  and  in  its  place  to  be  unfurled  the  banner  of  Castile.32 

Such  was  the  end  of  the  Holy  League,  on  which  Pius  the  Fifth  had  so  fully 
relied  for  the  conquest  of  Constantinople  and  the  recovery  of  Palestine.  Philip 
could  now  transfer  the  war  to  the  quarter  he  had  preferred.  He  resolved,  accord- 

M  For  the  preceding  pages  see  Torres  y  qne  les  Tnrques  eussent  gagne  la  bataille  de 

Agailera,    Chronica,    fol.    87-89,  —  Cabrera,  Lepante."    Essais  sur  les  Mceurs,  chap.  160. 

Filipe    Segundo,    lib.    x.    cap.    5  — Vander-  al  The  treaty  U  to  be  found  in  Dumotit, 

bammen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  159,  et  Corps  diplomatique,  torn.  v.  par.  1.  pp.  21», 

ueq., — Paruta,   Guerra    di  Cipro,  p.   206,  et  219. 

eeq.,  —  Sagredo,    Monarcas    Othuinanos,    pp.  "  Resell,  Historia  del  Combate  naval,  p. 

301,  .102.  149.— Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  p.  747.— Torres 

*"  It  is  Voltaire's  reflection  :  "  II  seniblait  y  Aguilera,  Chronica,  fol.  95. 


CONQUEST  OF  TUNIS.  641 

ingly,  to  send  an  expedition  to  the  Barbary  coast.  Tunis  was  selected  as  the 
p'ace  of  attack,— a  thriving  city  and  the  home  of  many  a  corsair  who  preyed 
on  the  commerce  of  the  Mediterranean.  It  had  been  taken  by  Charles  the 
Fifth  in  the  memorable  campaign  of  1535,  but  had  since  been  recovered  by  the 
Moslems.  The  Spaniards,  however,  still  retained  possession  of  the  strong 
fortress  of  the  Goletta,  which  overlooked  the  approaches  to  Tunis. 

In  the  latter  part  of  Septeinter,  1574,  Don  John  left  the  shores  of  Sicily  at 
the  head  of  a  fleet  consisting  of  about  a  hundred  galleys  and  nearly  as  many 
smaller  vessels.  The  number  of  his  troops  amounted  to  net  less  than  twenty 
thousand.*1  The  story  of  the  campaign  is  a  short  one.  Most  of  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Tunis  fled  from  the  city.  The  few  who  remained  did  not  care  to 
bring  the  war  on  their  heads  by  offering  resistance  to  the  Spaniards.  Don 
John,  without  so  much  as  firing  a  shot,  marched  in  at  the  head  of  his  bat- 
talions, through  gates  flung  open  to  receive  him.  He  found  an  ample  booty 
awaiting  him, — near  fifty  pieces  of  artillery,  with  ammunition  and  military 
stores,  large  quantities  of  grain,  cotton  and  woollen  cloths,  rich  silks  and 
brocades,  with  various  other  kinds  of  costly  merchandise.  The  troops  spent 
more  than  a  week  in  sacking  the  place.*4  They  gained,  in  short,  everything — 
but  glory ;  for  little  glory  was  to  be  gained  where  there  were  no  obstacles  to  be 
overcome. 

Don  John  gave  orders  that  no  injnry  should  be  offered  to  the  persons  of  the 
inhabitants.  He  forbade  that  any  should  be  made  slaves.  By  a  proclamation, 
he  invited  all  to  return  to  their  dwellings,  under  the  assurance  of  his  protec- 
tion. In  one  particular  his  conduct  was  remarkable.  Philip,  disgusted  with 
the  expenses  to  which  the  maintenance  of  the  castle  of  the  Goletta  annually 
subjected  him,  had  recommended,  if  not  positively  directed,  his  brother  to 
dismantle  the  place  and  to  demolish  in  like  manner  the  fortifications  of  Tunis.3* 
Instead  of  heeding  these  instructions,  Don  John  no  sooner  saw  himself  in 
possession  of  the  capital  than  he  commanded  the  Goletta  to  be  thoroughly 
repaired,  and  at  the  same  time  provided  for  the  erection  of  a  strong  fortress 
in  the  city.  This  work  he  committed  to  an  Italian  engineer,  named  Cerbel- 
loni,  a  knight  of  Malta,  with  whom  he  left  eight  thousand  soldiers,  to  lie 
employed  in  the  construction  of  the  fort,  and  to  furnish  him  with  a  garrison  to 
defend  it. 

Don  John,  it  is  said,  had  been  urged  to  take  this  course  by  his  secretary, 
Juan  de  Soto,  a  man  of  ability,  but  of  an  intrUaring  temper,  who  fostered  in 
his  master  those  ambitious  projects  which  had  been  encouraged,  as  we  have 
seen,  by  Pius  the  Fifth.  No  more  eligible  spot  seemed  likely  to  present  itself 

u  Vanderhammen,  Don  Juan  de  Austria,  qualified   lanptiape   we  may  infer  that  the 

fol.  173.  king  meant  to  give  his  brother  his  decided 

14  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  p.  765. — Van-  opinion,  not  amounting,  howcwr,  to  such  an 

derbammen,  D»n  Juan  dc  Austria,  fol.  174,  aimolute  command   as  would   leave  him  no 

175. — Torres  y  Agullera,  Chronica,  fol.  101,  power  to  exercise  his  discretion  in  the  matter. 

et    eeq. — The    author    last    cited,   who  was  This  last  view  is  made  the  more  probable  by 

present    at    the  capture    of  Tunis,  gives  a  the  fact  that  in  the  following  spring  a  corre- 

fearful  picture  of  the  rapacity  of  the  soldiers.  spondence  took  place  between  the  king  and 

'  •  The  Castlllan  writers  generally  speak  of  his  brother.  In  which  the  former,  after  stating 

it  u  the   peremptory  command  of   Philip.  the  arguments  both  for  preserving  and   for 

Cabrera,  one  of  the  best  authorities,  tells  us,  dismantling  the  fortress  of  Tunis,  concludes 

"  Mandd   el    Rey  Catolico   a   don  Juan  de  by  referring  the  decision  of  the  question  to 

Austria  enplear  su  armada  en  la  conqulsta  de  Don   John    himself:    "  RepresiMitadas    todas 

Tunez,  i  qne  le  desmantelase,  I  la  Goleta."  e-tas  dfflenltades,  mand.i  remitlr  S.    M.   nl 

But  soon  after  be  remarks,  "Olvidando  tl  Seflor  Don  Juan  quo  ol  tome  la  resoluclon 

burn  aeuerdo  del  Rey,  por  conseJo  de  llson-  que   mas  convenga,"    Documentos  ineditos, 

geros    determln6   de  conservar    la   cludad."  turn.  III.  p.  139. 
(Filipe  Segundo.  pp.  763,  764.)     From  this 

2  T 


642  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

for  tb.e  seat  of  his  dominion  than  Tunis, — a  flourishing  capital  surrounded  by 
a  well-peopled  and  fruitful  territory.  Philip  had  been  warned  of  the  unwhole- 
some influence  exerted  by  De  Soto ;  and  he  now  sought  to  remove  him  from 
the  person  of  his  brother  oy  giving  him  a  distinct  position  in  the  army,  and  by 
sending  another  to  replace  him  in  his  post  of  secretary.  The  person  thus  sent 
was  Juan  de  Escovedo.  But  it  was  soon  found  that  the  influence  which  Esco- 
vedo  acquired  over  the  young  prince  was  both  greater  and  more  mischievous 
tlian  that  of  his  predecessor ;  and  the  troubles  that  grew  out  of  this  new  inti- 
macy were  destined,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter,  to  form  some  of  the  darkest 
pages  in  the  history  of  the  times. 

Having  provided  for  the  security  of  his  new  acquisition,  and  received,  more, 
over,  the  voluntary  submission  of  the  neighbouring  town  of  Biserta,  the  Spanish 
commander  returned  with  his  fleet  to  Sicily.  He  landed  at  Palermo,  amidst 
the  roaring  of  cannon,  the  shouts  of  the  populace,  and  the  u-iiial  rejoicings  that 
announce  the  return  of  the  victorious  commander.  He  did  not,  however,  pro- 
long his  stay  in  Sicily.  After  dismissing  his  fleet,  he  proceeded  to  Naples, 
where  he  landed  about  the  middle  of  November.  He  proposed  to  pass  the 
winter  in  this  capital,  where  the  delicious  climate  and  the  beauty  of  the  women, 
say.s  a  contemporary  chronicler,  had  the  attractions  for  him  that  belonged 
naturally  to  his  age.*6  His  partiality  for  Naples  was  amply  requited  by  the 
inhabitants, — especially  that  lovelier  portion  of  them  whose  smiles  were  the 
well-prized  guerdon  of  the  soldier.  If  his  brilliant  exterior  and  the  charm  of 
his  society  had  excited  their  admiration  when  he  first  appeared  among  them 
as  an  adventurer  in  the  path  of  honour,  how  much  was  this  admiration  likely 
to  be  increased  when  he  returned  with  the  halo  of  glory  beaming  around  his 
brow,  as  the  successful  champion  of  Christendom  ! 

The  days  of  John  of  Austria  glided  merrily  along  in  the  gay  capital  of 
Southern  Italy.  But  we  should  wrong  him  did  we  supple  that  all  his  hours 
were  passed  in  idle  dalliance.  A  portion  of  each  day,  on  the  contrary,  was  set 
apart  for  study.  Another  part  was  given  to  the  despatch  of  business.  When 
he  went  abroad,  he  affected  the  society  of  men  distinguished  for  their  science, 
or  still  more  for  their  knowledge  of  public  affairs.  In  his  intercourse  with 
these  persons  he  showed  dignity  of  demeanour  tempered  by  courtesy,  while  his 
conversation  revealed  those  lofty  aspirations  which  proved  that  his  thoughts 
were  fixed  on  a  higher  eminence  than  any  he  had  yet  readied.  It  was  clear 
to  every  observer  that  ambition  was  the  moving  principle  of  his  actions,— the 
passion  to  which  every  other  passion,  even  the  love  of  pleasure,  was  wholly 
subordinate. 

In  the  mid>t  of  the  gayeties  of  Naples  his  thoughts  were  intent  on  the  best 
means  of  securing  his  African  empire.  He  despatched  his  secretary,  Escovedo, 
to  the  pope,  to  solicit  his  good  offices  with  Philip.  Gregory  entertained  the 
same  friendly  feelings  for  Don  John  which  his  predecessor  had  shown,  and  he 
good-naturedly  acquiesced  in  his  petition.  He  directed  his  nuncio  at  the 
Castilian  court  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  promote  the  suit  of  the  young  chief, 
and  to  assure  the  king  that  nothing  could  be  more  gratifying  to  the  head  of 
the  Church  than  to  see  so  worthy  a  recompense  bestowed  on  one  who  had 
rendered  such  signal  services  to  Christendom.  Philip  received  the  communi- 
cation in  the  most  gracious  manner.  He  was  grateful,  he  said,  for  the  interest 
which  the  pope  condescended  to  take  in  the  fortunes  of  Don  John ;  and 
nothing,  certainly,  would  be  more  agreeable  to  his  own  feelings  than  to  have 

*•  "  Porque  la  gentilcza  de  la  tieira  i  de  las        755. — Also   Vand«rhammen,    Don  Juan    do 
damas  en   an  conservacion    agradaba    a    su        Austria,  fol.  176. 
gullarda  edad."    Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  p. 


RETAKEN  BY  THE  TUBES.  843 

the  power  to  reward  his  brother  according  to  his  deserts.  But  to  take  any 
steps  at  present  in  the  matter  would  be  premature.  He  had  received  infor- 
mation that  the  sultan  was  making  extensive  preparations  for  the  recovery  of 
Tunis.  Before  giving  it  away,  therefore,  it  would  be  well  to  see  to  whom  it 
belonged." 

Philip's  information  was  correct.  No  sooner  had  Selim  learned  the  fate  of 
the  Barbary  capital  than  he  made  prodigious  efforts  for  driving  the  Spaniards 
from  their  conquests.  He  assembled  a  powerful  armament,  which  he  placed 
under  the  command  of  Uluch  AIL  As  lord  of  Algiers,  that  chief  had  a  par- 
ticular interest  in  preventing  any  Christian  power  from  planting  its  foot  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  his  own  dominions.  The  command  of  the  land-forces 
was  given  to  Sinan  Pasha,  Selim's  son-in-law. 

Early  in  July  the  Ottoman  fleet  arrived  off'  the  Barbary  coast.  Tunis 
offered  as  little  resistance  to  the  arms  of  the  Moslems  as  it  had  before  done  to 
those  of  the  Christians.  That  city  had  been  so  often  transferred  from  one 
master  to  another  that  it  seemed  almost  a  matter  of  indifference  to  the  inhabi- 
tants to  whom  it  belonged.  But  the  Turks  found  it  a  more  difficult  matter 
to  reduce  the  castle  of  the  Goletta  and  the  fort  raised  by  the  brave  engineer 
Cerbelloni,  now  well  advanced,  though  not  entirely  completed.  It  was  not 
till  the  middle  of  September,  after  an  incredible  waste  of  life  on  the  part  of 
the  assailants,  and  the  extermination  of  nearly  the  whole  of  the  Spanish  gar- 
risons, that  both  the  fortresses  surrendered.38 

No  sooner  was  he  in  possession  of  them  than  the  Turkish  commander  did  that 
which  Philip  had  in  vain  wished  his  brother  to  do.  He  razed  to  the  ground 
the  fortress  of  the  Goletta.  Thus  ended  the  campaign,  in  which  Spain, 
besides  her  recent  conquests,  saw  herself  stripped  of  the  strong  castle  which 
had  defied  every  assault  of  the  Moslems  since  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth. 

One  may  naturally  ask,  Where  was  John  of  Austria  all  this  time '(  He  had 
not  been  idle,  nor  had  he  remained  an  indifferent  spectator  of  the  loss  of  the 
place  he  had  so  gallantly  won  for  Spain.  But  when  he  first  received  tidings 
of  the  presence  of  a  Turkish  fleet  before  Tunis  he  was  absent  on  a  mission  to 
Genoa,  or  rather  to  its  neighbourhood.  That  republic  was  at  this  time  toni 
by  factions  so  fierce  that  it  was  on  the  brink  of  a  civil  war.  The  mischief 
threatened  to  extend  even  more  widely,  as  the  neighbouring  powers,  especially 
France  and  Savoy,  prepared  to  take  part  in  the  quarrel,  in  hopes  of  establish- 
ing their  own  authority  in  the  state.  At  length  Philip,  who  had  inherited 
from  his  father  the  somewhat  ill-defined  title  of  "  Protector  of  Genoa,"  was 
compelled  to  interpose  in  the  dispute.  It  was  on  this  mission  that  Don  John, 
was  sent,  to  watcn  more  nearly  the  rival  factions.  It  was  not  till  after  this 
domestic  broil  had  lasted  for  several  months  that  the  prudent  policy  of  the 
Spanish  monarch  succeeded  in  reconciling  the  hostile  parties  and  thus  securing 
the  republic  from  the  horrors  of  a  civil  war.  He  reaped  the  good  fruits  of  his 
temperate  conduct  in  the  maintenance  of  his  own  authority  in  the  counsels  of 
the  republic,  thus  binding  to  himself  an  ally  whose  navy,  in  time  of  war, 
served  greatly  to  strengthen  his  maritime  resources.*' 

"  Ferreran,  Hist.  d'K>papne,  t»m.  x.   p.  tnirtrd  an  regard*  the  Infidel. 

286.— Vanderbammen,  Don  Juun  de  Austria,  "  For  a  brief  but  viry  iiersplcnous  view  of 

ful.  178.  tlir  troubles  of  Genoa,  nee  Sail  Miguel.  Hiot.  de 

••  Torres  y  Apillera,  Chronica,  fol.  116,  rt  Kilipe  Sejtundo  (torn.  II.  cap.  3t>).    The  care 

seq.— IMacion  particular  de  Don  Juan  Sono-  of  tiiN  judicious  writer  to  acquaint  the  reader 

gera,  MS. — Vanderhammen  states  the  low  of  with  contemporary  events  in  other  countries, 

the  Modems  at  thirty-three  thousand   slain.  as  they  bore  more  or  less  directly  on  Spain,  is 

(Don   Jnan  ri«  Austria,   fol.    !(•».)    Hut  the  a  characteristic  merit  of  hU  history 
arithmetic  of   the  Costllian    is  little  to  b« 


644  WAR  WITH  THE  TURKS. 

While  detained  on  this  delicate  mission,  Don  John  did  what  he  could  for 
Tunis,  by  urging  the  viceroys  of  Sicily  and  Naples  to  send  immediate  aid  to 
the  beleaguered  garrisons."  But  these  functionaries  seem  to  have  been  more 
interested  in  the  feuds  of  Genoa  than  in  the  fate  of  the  African  colony. 
Granvelle,  who  presided  over  Naples,  was  even  said  to  be  so  jealous  of  the 
rising  fame  of  John  of  Austria  as  not  to  be  unwilling  that  his  lofty  pretensions 
should  be  somewhat  humbled,41  The  supplies  sent  were  wholly  unequal  to 
the  exigency 

Don  John,  impatient  of  the  delay,  as  soon  as  he  could  extricate  himself 
from  the  troubles  of  Genoa,  sailed  for  Naples,  and  thence  speedily  crossed  to 
Sicily.  He  there  made  every  effort  to  assemble  an  armament,  of  which  he 
prepared,  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of  his  friends,  to  take  the  command 
in  person.  But  nature,  no  less  than  man,  was  against  him.  A  tempest 
scattered  his  fleet ;  and  when  he  had  reassembled  it,  and  fairly  put  to  sea, 
he  was  baffled  by  contrary  winds,  and,  taking  refuge  in  the  neighbouring  port 
of  Trapani,  was  detained  there  until  tidings  reached  him  of  the  fall  of  Tunis. 
They  fell  heavily  on  his  ear.  For  they  announced  to  him  that  all  his  bright 
visions  of  an  African  empire  had  vanished,  like  the  airy  fabric  of  an  Eastern 
tale.  All  that  remained  was  the  consciousness  that  he  had  displeased  his 
brother  by  his  scheme  of  an  independent  sovereignty  and  by  his  omission  to 
raze  the  fortress  of  the  Goletta,  the  unavailing  defence  of  which  had  cost  the 
lives  of  so  many  of  his  brave  countrymen. 

But  Don  John,  however  chagrined  by  the  tidings,  was  of  too  elastic  a 
temper  to  yield  to  despondency.  He  was  a  knight-errant  in  the  true  sense  of 
the  term.  He  still  clung  as  fondly  as  ever  to  the  hope  of  one  day  carving 
out  with  his  good  sword  an  independent  dominion  for  himself.  His  first  step, 
he  considered,  was  to  make  his  peace  with  his  brother.  Though  not  sum- 
moned thither,  he  resolved  to  return  at  once  to  the  Castilian  court, — for  in 
that  direction,  he  felt,  lay  the  true  road  to  preferment. 

•°  Torres  y  Aguilera,  Chronica.  fol.  113.  love  and  in  war:  "La  causa  principal  era 

41  The  principal  cause  of  Granvelle's  cold-  el  poco  gusto  que  tenia  de  acudir  a  rton  Juan, 

npss  to  Don  John,  as  we  are  told  by  Cabrera  Invidioso  de  sus  favores  de  Marte  i  Venus." 

(Filipe  Segundo,  p.  794),  echoed,  as  usual,  by  Considering    the    cardinal's    profession,    he 

Vanderhammen  (Don  Juan  de  Austria,  fol.  would  seem  to  have  had  no  right  to  envy 

1 84),  was  envy  of  the  fame  which  the  hero  of  any  one's  success  in  either  of  these  fields. 
L  panto  had  gained  by  bis  conquests  both  in 


BOOK  IY. 

CHAPTER  I. 

DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS   OF   SPAIN. 

Internal  Administration  of  Spain— Absolute  Power  of  the  Crown — Royal  Councils — Alr» 
and  ttny  Gomez—  Espinosa— Personal  Habits  of  Philip— Court  and  Nobles — The  Cortes— 
The  Guards  of  Castile. 

SEVENTEEN  years  had  now  elapsed  since  Philip  the  Second  ascended  the 
throne  of  his  ancestors, — a  period  long  enough  to  disclose  the  policy  of  his 
government,  longer,  indeed,  than  that  of  the  entire  reigns  of  some  of  nis  pre- 
decessors. In  the  previous  portions  of  this  work  the  reader  has  been  chiefly 
occupied  with  the  foreign  relations  of  Spain,  and  with  military  details.  It  is 
now  time  to  pause,  and,  before  plunging  anew  into  the  stormy  scenes  of  the 
Netherlands,  to  consider  the  internal  administration  of  the  country  and  the 
character  and  policy  of  the  monarch  who  presided  over  it. 

The  most  important  epoch  in  Castilian  history  since  the  great  Saracen 
invasion  in  the  eighth  century  is  the  reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  when 
anarchy  was  succeeded  by  law,  and  from  the  elements  of  chaos  arose  that 
beautiful  fabric  of  order  and  constitutional  liberty  which  promised  a  new  era 
for  the  nation.  In  the  assertion  of  her  rights,  Isabella,  to  whom  this  revolu- 
tion is  chiefly  to  be  attributed,  was  obliged  to  rely  on  the  support  of  the 
people.  It  was  natural  that  she  should  requite  their  services  by  aiding  them 
in  the  recovery  of  their  own  rights, — especially  of  those  which  had  been 
usurped  by  the  rapacious  nobles.  Indeed,  it  was  the  obvious  policy  of  the 
crown  to  humble  the  pride  of  the  aristocracy  and  abate  their  arrogant  pre- 
tensions. In  this  it  was  so  well  supported  by  the  commons  that  the  scheme 
perfectly  succeeded.  By  the  depression  of  the  privileged  classes  and  the  ele- 
vation of  the  people,  the  different  orders  were  brouglit  more  strictly  within 
their  constitutional  limits  ;  and  the  state  made  a  nearer  approach  to  a  well- 
balanced  limited  monarchy  than  at  any  previous  period  of  its  history. 

This  auspicious  revolution  was  soon,  alas  !  to  be  followed  by  another,  of  a 
most  disastrous  kind.  Charles  the  Fifth,  who  succeeded  his  grandfather 
Ferdinand,  was  born  a  foreigner, — and  a  foreigner  lie  remained  through  his 
whole  life.  He  was  a  stranger  to  the  feelings  and  habits  of  the  Spaniards, 
had  little  respect  for  their  institutions,  and  as  little  love  for  the  nation.  He 
continued  to  live  mostly  abroad  ;  was  occupied  with  foreign  enterprises  ;  and 
the  only  people  whom  lie  really  loved  were  those  of  the  Netherlands,  his  native 
land.  The  Spaniards  requited  these  feelings  of  indifference  in  full  measure. 
They  felt  that  the  glory  of  the  initial  name  shed  110  lustre  upon  them 


646  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

Thus  estranged  at  heart,  they  were  easily  provoked  to  insurrection  by  his 
violation  of  their  rights.  The  insurrection  was  a  failure  ;  and  the  blow  which 
crushed  the  insurgents  on  the  plains  of  Villalar  deprived  them  for  ever  of  the 
few  liberties  which  they  had  been  permitted  to  retain.  They  were  excluded 
from  all  share  in  the  government, and  were  henceforth  summoned  to  the  cortes 
only  to  swear  allegiance  to  the  heir-apparent  or  to  furnish  subsidies  for  their 
master.  They  were  indeed  allowed  to  lay  their  grievances  before  the  throne. 
But  they  had  no  means  of  enforcing  redress  ;  for,  with  the  cunning  policy  of  a 
despot,  Charles  would  not  receive  their  petitions  until  they  had  first  voted  the 
supplies. 

The  nobles,  who  had  stood  by  their  ma;ter  in  the  struggle,  fared  no  better. 
They  found  too  late  how  short-sighted  was  the  policy  which  had  led  them  to 
put  their  faith  in  princes.  Henceforth  they  could  not  be  said  to  form  a 
necessary  part  of  the  legislature.  For,  as  they  insisted  on  their  right  to  be 
excused  from  bearing  any  share  in  the  burdens  of  the  state,  they  could  take 
no  part  in  voting  the  supplies ;  and,  as  this  was  almost  the  only  purpose  for 
which  the  cortes  was  convened,  their  presence  was  no  longer  required  in  it. 
Instead  of  the  powers  which  were  left  to  them  untouched  by  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  they  were  now  amused  with  high-sounding  and  empty  titles,  or  with 
offices  about  the  person  of  the  monarch.  In  this  way  they  gradually  sank  into 
the  unsubstantial  though  glittering  pageant  of  a  court.  Meamyhile,  the 
government  of  Castile,  assuming  the  powers  of  both  making  the  laws  and 
enforcing  their  execution,  became  in  its  essential  attributes  nearly  as  absolute 
as  that  of  Turkey. 

Such  was  the  gigantic  despotism  which,  on  the  death  of  Charles,  passed  into 
the  hands  of  Philip  the  Second.  The  son  had  many  qualities  in  common  with 
his  father.  But  among  these  was  not  that  restless  ambition  of  foreign  con- 
quest which  was  ever  goading  the  emperor.  Nor  was  he,  like  his  father, 
urged  by  the  love  of  glory  to  military  achievement.  He  was  of  too  sluggish  a 
nature  to  embark  readily  in  great  enterprises.  He  was  capable  of  much 
labour ;  but  it  was  of  that  sedentary  kind  which  belongs  to  the  cabinet  rather 
than  the  camp.  His  tendencies  were  naturally  pacific  ;  and  up  to  the  period 
at  which  we  are  now  arrived  he  had  engaged  in  no  wars  but  those  into  which 
he  had  been  drawn  by  the  revolt  of  his  vassals,  as  in  the  Netherlands  and 
Granada,  or  those  forced  on  him  by  circumstances  beyond  his  control.  Such 
was  the  war  which  he  had  carried  on  with  the  pope  and  the  French  monarchy 
at  the  beginning  of  his  reign. 

But,  while  less  ambitions  than  Charles  of  foreign  acquisitions,  Philip  was 
full  as  tenacious  of  the  possessions  and  power  which  had  come  to  him  by 
inheritance.  Nor  was  it  likely  that  the  regal  prerogative  would  suffer  any 
diminution  in  his  reign,  or  that  the  nobles  or  commons  would  be  allowed  to 
retrieve  any  of  the  immunities  which  they  had  lost  under  his  predecessors. 

Philip  understood  the  character  of  his  countrymen  better  than  his  father 
had  clone.  A  Spaniard  by  birth,  he  was,  as  I  have  more  than  once  had 
occasion  to  remark,  a  Spaniard  in  his  whole  nature.  His  tastes,  his  habits, 
his  prejudices,  were  all  Spanish.  His  policy  was  directed  solely  to  the  aggran- 
dizement of  Spain.  The  distant  races  whom  he  governed  were  all  strangers 
to  him.  With  a  few  exceptions,  Spaniards  were  the  only  persons  he  placed  in 
offices  of  trust.  His  Castilian  countrymen  saw  with  pride  and  satisfaction  that 
they  had  a  native  prince  on  the  throne,  who  identified  his  own  interests  with 
theirs.  They  contrasted  this  conduct  with  that  of  his  father,  and  requited  it 
with  a  devotion  such  as  they  had  shown  to  few  of  his  predecessors.  They  not 
only  held  him  in  reverence,  says  the  Venetian  minister,  Contarini,  but  respected 


ROYAL  COUNCILS.  647 

his  laws,  as  something  sacred  and  inviolable.1  It  was  the  people  of  the  Nether- 
lands who  rose  up  against  him.  For  similar  reasons  it  fared  just  the  opposite 
with  Charles.  His  Flemish  countrymen  remained  loyal  to  the  last  It  was 
his  Castilian  subjects  who  were  driven  to  rebellion. 

Though  tenacious  of  power,  Philip  had  not  the  secret  consciousness  of 
strength  which  enabled  his  father,  unaided  as  it  were,  to  bear  up  so  long  under 
the  burden  of  empire.  The  habitual  caution  of  the  son  made  him  averse  to 
taking  any  step  of  importance  without  first  ascertaining  the  opinions  of  others. 
Yet  he  was  not  willing,  like  his  ancestor  the  good  Queen  Isabella,  to  invoke 
the  co-operation  of  the  cortes,  and  thus  awaken  the  consciousness  of  power  in 
an  arm  of  the  government  which  had  been  so  long  smitten  with  paralysis. 
Such  an  expedient  was  fraught  with  too  much  danger.  He  found  a  substitute 
in  the  several  councils,  the  members  of  which,  appointed  by  the  crown  and 
removable  at  its  pleasure,  were  pledged  to  the  support  of  the  prerogative. 

Under  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  there  had  been  a  complete  reorganization  of 
these  councils.  Their  niimltcr  was  increased  under  Charles  the  Fifth,  to  suit 
the  increased  extent  of  the  empire.  It  was  still  further  enlarged  by  Philip.2 
Under  him  there  were  no  less  than  eleven  councils,  among  which  may  tie 
particularly  noticed  those  of  war,  of  finance,  of  justice,  and  of  state.*  Of  these 
various  bodies  the  council  of  state,  charged  with  the  most  important  concerns 
of  the  monarchy,  was  held  in  highest  consideration.  The  number  of  its 
members  varied.  At  the  time  of  winch  I  am  writing,  it  amounted  to  sixteen.4 
But  the  weight  of  the  business  devolved  on  less  than  half  that  munlrer.  It 
was  composed  of  both  ecclesiastics  and  laymen.  Among  the  latter  were  some 
eminent  jurists.  A  sprinkling  of  men  of  the  robe,  indeed,  was  to  be  found  in 
most  of  the  councils.  Philip  intimated  in  this  the  policy  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  who  thus  intended  to  humble  the  pride  of  the  great  lords,  and  to 
provide  themselves  with  a  loyal  militia,  whose  services  would  be  of  no  little 
advantage  in  maintaining  the  prerogative. 

Among  the  members  of  the  council  of  state,  two  may  be  particularly  noticed 
for  their  pre-eminence  in  that  body.  These  were  the  duke  of  Alva  and  Buy 
Gomez  de  Silva,  prince  of  Eboli.  'VV  ith  the  former  the  reader  is  well  acquainted. 
His  great  talents,  his  ample  experience  both  in  civil  and  military  life,  his  iron 
wi'l  and  the  fearlessness  with  which  he  asserted  it,  even  his  stern  and  over- 
hearing manner,  which  seemed  to  proclaim  his  own  superiority,  all  marked  him 
out  as  the  leader  of  a  party. 

The  emperor  appears  to  have  feared  the  ascendency  which  Alva  might  one 
day  acquire  over  Philip.  "  The  duke,"  wrote  Charles  to  his  son  in  a  letter 
l>efore  cited,  "is  the  ablest  statesman  and  the  best  soldier  I  have  in  my 
dominions.  Consult  him,  above  all,  in  military  affairs.  But  do  not  depend  on 
him  entirely  in  these  or  any  other  matters.  Depend  on  no  one  but  yourself." 
The  advice  was  good  ;  and  Philip  did  not  fail  to  profit  by  it.  Though  always 
reeking  the  opinions  of  others,  it  was  the  better  to  form  his  own.  He  was  too 
iealous  of  power  to  submit  to  the  control,  even  to  the  guidance,  of  another. 
With  all  his  deference  to  Alva,  on  whose  services  he  set  the  greatest  value,  the 

1  "Queflta  oppinlonc,  che  di  Inl  Hi  ha,  rende  •  "  Sono  XI. ;  11  conrigllo  dell'  Indie,  Cas- 

le  fat  leggi  pit'i  Mcrooancte  et  inviolabill."  tleli.v  d'  Arapona,  d' inquisition?,  dl  camera, 

Relazlone  dl  ConUrlnl.  MS.  doll*  ordinl.  di  purrra,  dl  hazzienda,  di  gius- 

1  A  manuscript,  entitled   ••  Ortpen  de  lot  tizla,  d'  Italia,  et  dl  etato."     Sommario  del* 

Contfj**."  without  date  or  the  name  of  the  ordlne  che  xi  tlene  alia  rorte  di  Spagnft  circa 

author,  to  the  library  of  Sir  Thomas  riiillipn,  11  gov»mo  delli  rtati  del  Re  Catholico,  MS. 

ply*  a  minute  account  of  the  various  council*  •  Ibid.     The  date  of  this  manuscript    ii 

under  Philip  the  Second.  1670. 


648  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

king  seems  to  have  shown  him  but  little  of  that  personal  attachment  which  he 
evinced  for  his  rival,  Ruy  Gomez. 

This  nobleman  was  descended  from  an  ancient  house  in  Portugal,  a  branch 
of  which  had  been  transplanted  to  Castile.  He  had  been  early  received  as  a 
page  in  the  imperial  household,  where,  though  he  was  several  years  older  than 
Philip,  his  amiable  temper,  his  engaging  manners,  and,  above  all,  that  tact 
which  made  his  fortune  in  later  life,  soon  rendered  him  the  prince's  favourite. 
An  anecdote  is  reported  of  him  at  this  time,  which,  however  difficult  to  credit, 
rests  on  respectable  authority.  While  engaged  in  their  sports,  th«  page 
accidentally  struck  the  prince.  The  emperor,  greatly  incensed,  and  conceiving 
that  such  an  indignity  to  the  heir-apparent  was  to  be  effaced  only  by  the  blood 
of  the  offender,  condemned  the  unhappy  youth  to  lose  his  life.  The  tears  and 
entreaties  of  Philip  at  length  so  far  softened  the  heart  of  his  father  that  he 
consented  to  commute  the  punishment  of  death  for  exile.  Indeed,  it  is  hard 
to  believe  that  Charles  had  ever  really  intended  to  carry  his  cruel  sentence  into 
execution.  The  exile  was  of  no  long  duration.  The  society  of  Gomez  had 
become  indispensable  to  the  prince,  who,  pining  under  the  separation,  at  length 
prevailed  on  his  father  to  recall  the  young  noble  and  reinstate  him  in  nis 
former  situation  in  the  palace.5 

The  regard  of  Philip,  who  was  not  of  a  fickle  disposition,  seemed  to  increase 
with  years.  We  find  Ruy  Gomez  one  of  the  brilliant  suite  who  accompanied 
him  to  London  on  his  visit  there  to  wed  the  English  rjneen.  After  the 
emperor's  abdication,  Ruy  Gomez  continued  to  occupy  a  distinguished  place 
in  Philip's  household,  as  first  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber.  By  virtue  of  this 
office  he  was  required  to  attend  his  master  both  at  his  rising  and  his  going  to 
rest.  His  situation  gave -him  ready  access  at  all  hours  to  the  royal  person. 
It  was  soon  understood  that  there  was  no  one  in  the  court  who  exercised  a 
more  important  influence  over  the  monarch  ;  and  he  naturally  became  the 
channel  through  which  applicants  for  favours  sought  to  prefer  their  petitions." 

Meanwhile,  the  mo>t  substantial  honours  were  liberally  bestowed  on  him.  He 
was  created  duke  of  Pastrana,  with  an  income  of  twenty-five  thousand  crowns, 
— a  large  revenue,  considering  the  value  of  money  in  that  day.  The  title  of 
Pastrana  was  subsequently  merged  in  that  of  Eboli,  by  which  he  has  con- 
tinued to  be  known.  It  was  derived  from  his  marriage  with  the  princess  of 
Eboli,  Anna  de  Mendoza,  a  lady  much  younger  than  he,  and,  though  blind  of 
one  eye,  celebrated  for  her  beauty  no  less  than  her  wit.  She  was  yet  more 
celebrated  for  her  gallantries,  and  for  the  tragic  results  to  which  they  led, — 
a  subject  closely  connected  with  the  personal  history  of  Philip,  to  which  I 
shall  return  hereafter. 

Among  his  other  dignities  Ruy  Gomez  was  made  a  member  of  the  council 
of  state,  in  which  body  he  exercised  an  influence  not  inferior,  to  say  the  leaet 
of  it,  to  that  of  any  of  his  associates.  His  head  was  not  turned  by  his  pro- 
sperity. He  did  not,  like  many  a  favourite  before  him,  display  his  full-blown 
fortunes  in  the  eye  of  the  world  ;  nor,  though  he  maintained  a  state  suited 
to  his  station,  did  he,  like  Wolsey,  excite  the  jealousy  of  his  master  by  a  mag- 
nificence in  his  way  of  living  that  eclipsed  the  splendours  of  royalty.  Far 
from  showing  arrogance  to  his  inferiors,  he  was  affable  to  all,  did  what  he 
could  to  serve  their  interests  with  the  king,  and  magnanimously  spoke  of  his 

• 5  Relazione  dl  Radoer,  MS.  e  di  Rey  Gomez  e  non  Ruy  Gomez,  perche 

"  Instead  of  "  Ruy  Gomez,"  Badoer  tells  us  pare  che  non  sia  stato  mai  alcun  privato  con 

they  punningly  gave  him  the  title  of  "Rey  principe  del  nv>ndo  dl  tanta  nutorita  e  co*i 

Gomez,"  to  denote   his  influence   over   the  stimato  dal  signer  suo  come  egli  e  da  questa 

king:  "II  titolu  principal  che  gli  vien  dato  Maesta."    Relazione,  MS. 


ALVA  AND  RUY  GOMEZ.  649 

rivals  in  terms  of  praise.  By  this  way  of  proceeding  he  enjoyed  the  good 
fortune,  rare  for  a  favourite,  of  being  both  caressed  by  his  sovereign  and 
beloved  by  the  people.7 

There  is  no  evidence  that  Ruy  Gomez  had  the  moral  courage  to  resist  the 
evil  tendency  of  Philip's  policy,  still  less  that  he  ventured  to  open  the 
monarch's  eyes  to  his  errors.  He  had  too  keen  a  regard  to  his  own  interests 
to  attempt  this.  He  may  have  thought,  probably  with  ?pme  reason,  that 
such  a  course  would  avail  little  with  the  king,  and  would  bring  ruin  on  him- 
self. His  life  was  passed  in  the  atmosphere  of  a  court,  and  he  had  imbibed 
its  selfish  spirit  He  had  profoundly  studied  the  character  of  his  master,  and 
he  accommodated  himself  to  all  his  humours  with  an  obsequiousness  which 
does  little  honour  to  his  memory.  The  duke  of  Alva,  who  hated  him  with  all 
the  hatred  of  a  rival,  speaking  of  him  after  his  death,  remarked,  "  Ruy 
Gomez,  though  not  the  greatest  statesman  that  ever  lived,  was  such  a  master 
in  the  knowledge  of  the  numours  and  dispositions  of  kings,  that  we  were  all  of 
us  fools  in  comparison."  • 

Yet  the  influence  of  the  favourite  was,  on  the  whole,  good.  He  was  humane 
and  liberal  in  his  temper,  and  inclined  to  peace, — virtues  which  were  not  too 
common  in  that  iron  age,  and  which  in  the  council  served  much  to  counteract 
the  stern  policy  of  Alva.  Fersons  of  a  generous  nature  ranged  themselves 
under  him  as  their  leader.  When  John  of  Austria  came  to  court,  his  liberal 
spirit  prompted  him  at  once  to  lean  on  Ruy  Gomez  as  his  friend  and  coun- 
sellor. The  correspondence  which  passed  between  them  when  the  young 
soldier  was  on  his  campaigns,  in  which  he  addressed  the  favourite  by  the 
epithet  of  "  father,"  confessing  his  errors  to  him  and  soliciting  his  advice,  is 
honourable  to  both. 

The  historian  Cabrera,  who  had  often  seen  him,  sums  up  the  character  of 
Ruy  Gomez  by  saying,  "  He  was  the  first  pilot  who  in  these  stormy  seas  both 
livea  and  died  secure,  always  contriving  to  gain  a  safe  port "  *  His  death 
took  place  in  July,  1573.  "Living,"  adds  the  writer,  in  his  peculiar  style,  "  he 
preserved  the  favour  of  his  sovereign.  Dead,  he  was  mourned  by  him,— and 
by  the  whole  nation,  which  kept  him  in  its  recollection  as  the  pattern  of  loyal 
vassals  and  prudent  favourites."  " 

Besides  the  two  leaders  in  the  council,  there  were  two  others  who  deserve 
to  be  noticed.  One  of  these  was  Figueroa,  count,  afterwards  created  by  Philip 
duke,  of  Feria,  a  grandee  of  Spain.  He  was  one  of  those  who  accompanied 
the  king  on  his  first  visit  to  England.  He  there  married  a  lady  of  rank,  and, 
as  the  reader  may  remember,  afterwards  represented  his  master  at  the  court 
of  Elizabeth.  He  was  a  man  of  excellent  parts,  enriched  by  that  kind  of 
practical  knowledge  which  he  had  gained  from  foreign  travel  and  a  familiarity 
with  courts.  He  lived  magnificently,  somewhat  encumbering  his  large  estates, 
indeed,  by  his  profusion.  His  person  was  handsome ;  and  his  courteous  and 

'  Cabrera,  Flllpe  Sepundo,  pp.  712,  713.—  de   Caatro,   Antonio    Perex   (Madrid,   1841), 

Cabrera  ban  (riven  u«,  in  the  first  chapter  of  p.  28. 

the  tenth  bu<>k  of   bis  history,   a    finished  *  "  Fue  itui  Gomez  rl  primero  pllolo  que 

portrait  of  Ruy  Gonv-z,  which  for  the  nice-  en  trnbajo*  tan  grande*  vivi6  y  muriu  cepruro, 

npM  of  Its  dl-ciiminatii>n  and  the  felicity  of  tomando  ulenpre  el  mejor  puerto."    Cabrera, 

it*  language  may  compare  with  the  be*t  com-  Fllipe  Spfiundo.  p.  713. 

positions  of  the  Qwtilian  chronicler*.  '*  "Vivo  c< 'list-no  la  gracia  de  sn   Rry, 

*  "  Kl  senor  Ruy  G<>m«-z   no  fue    de   lot  muerto  le  dolio  su  fulta,  I  la  Ilor6  en  Reyno, 

mayores  con^ejeru*  que  ha  habldo,  pero  del  que  en   *u   memoria   le  a  conpervado    para 

humor  y  natural  de  Ion  reyes   le  reomozco  exemplo  de  fides  vaMlloii  i  prudentes  pri- 

por  tan  gran  maestro,  qne  todos  Ion  que  p<>r  vadiw  da  los  mayores  Principes."     Ibid  ,  ubl 

aqui  deniro  andamos  tenemoft  la  cabeza  dnnde  supra. 
pei.sanius  que  traen.os  los  pies."     llertnudex 


650  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

polished  manners  made  him  one  of  the  most  brilliant  ornaments  of  the  royal 
circle.  He  had  a  truly  chivalrous  sense  of  honour,  and  was  greatly  esteemed 
by  the  king,  who  placed  him  near  his  person  as  captain  of  his  Spanish  guard. 
Feria  was  a  warm  supporter  of  Ruy  Gomez ;  and  the  long  friendship  that 
subsisted  between  the  two  nobles  seems  never  to  have  been  clouded  by  those 
feelings  of  envy  and  jealousy  which  so  often  arise  between  rivals  contending 
for  the  smile  j  of  their  sovereign. 

The  other  member  of  the  council  of  state  was  a  person  of  still  more  import- 
ance. This  was  the  Cardinal  Espinosa,  who,  though  an  ecclesiastic,  possessed 
such  an  acquaintance  with  affairs  as  belonged  to  few  laymen.  Philip's  eye 
readily  discovered  his  uncommon  qualities,  and  he  heaped  upon  him  offices  in 
rapid  succession,  any  one  of  which  might  well  have  engrossed  his  time.  But 
Espinosa  was  as  fond  of  labour  as  most  men  are  of  ease  ;  and  in  every  situation 
he  not  only  performed  his  own  share  of  the  work,  but  very  often  that  of  his 
associates.  He  was  made  president  of  the  council  of  Castile,  as  well  as  of  that 
of  the  Indies,  and  finally  a  member  of  the  council  of-state.  He  was  inquisitor- 
general,  sat  in  the  royal  chancery  of  Seville,  and  held  the  bishopric  of  Siguenza, 
one  of  the  richest  sees  in  the  kingdom.  To  crown  the  whole,  in  1568,  Pius  the 
Fifth,  on  the  application  of  Philip,  gave  him  a  cardinal's  hat.  The  king  seems 
to  have  taken  the  greater  jileasure  in  this  rapid  elevation  of  Espinosa,  that  he 
sprang  from  a  comparatively  humble  condition,  and  thus  the  height  to  which 
he  raised  him  served  the  more  keenly  to  mortify  the  nobles. 

But  the  cardinal,  as  is  too  often  the  case  with  those  who  have  suddenly  risen 
to  greatness,  did  not  bear  his  honours  meekly.  His  love  of  power  was  insati- 
able ;  and  when  an  office  became  vacant  in  any  of  his  own  departments  he 
was  prompt  to  secure  it  for  one  of  his  dependants.  An  anecdote  is  told  in 
relation  to  a  place  in  the  chancery  of  Granada  which  had  become  open  by  the 
death  of  the  incumbent.  As  soon  as  the  news  reached  Madrid,  Hernandez  de 
Cordova,  the  royal  equerry,  made  application  to  the  king  for  it.  Philip 
answered  that  he  was  too  late,  that  the  place  had  been  already  given  away. 
"  How  am  I  to  understand  your  majesty  1 "  said  the  petitioner.  "  The  tidings 
were  brought  to  me  by  a  courier  the  moment  at  which  the  post  became  vacant ; 
and  no  one  could  have  brought  them  sooner  unless  he  had  wings."  "  That  may 
be,"  said  the  monarch ;  "  but  I  have  just  given  the  place  to  another,  whom  the 
cardinal  recommended  to  me  as  I  was  leaving  the  council."11 

Espinosa,  says  a  contemporary,  was  a  man  of  noble  presence.  He  had  the 
air  of  one  born  to  command.  His  haughty  bearing,  however,  did  little  for 
him  with  the  more  humble  suitors,  and  disgusted  the  great  lords,  who  looked 
down  with  contempt  on  his  lowly  origin.  They  complained  to  the  king  of  his 
intolerable  arrogance  ;  and  the  king  was  not  unwilling  to  receive  their  charges 
against  him.  In  fact,  he  had  himself  grown  to  be  displeased  with  his  minister's 
presumption.  He  was  weary  of  the  deference  which,  now  that  Espinosa  had 
become  a  cardinal,  he  felt  obliged  to  pay  him  ;  of  coming  forward  to  receive 
him  when  he  entered  the  room  ;  of  taking  off.  his  cap  to  the  churchman,  and 
giving  him  a  seat  as  high  as  his  own  ;  finally,  of  allowing  him  to  interfere  in 
all  appointments  to  office.  It  seemed  incredible,  says  the  historian,  that  a 
prince  so  jealous  of  his  prerogatives  should  have  submitted  to  all  this  so  long.14 
Philip  was  now  determined  to  submit  to  it  no  longer,  but  to  tumble  from  its 
pride  of  place  the  idol  which  he  had  raised  with  his  own  hands. 

.  "  "  Puede  ser,  pero  el  Cardenal  Espinosa  "  "  Que  en  principe  tan  zeloso  de  sn  im- 

ffie  ronsulto  en  saliendo  del  consejo,  i  pp-vef  munidad  i  oflcio  parecid  increible  su  toK- 
lapla^a."  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  p.  7UO.  rancia  hasta  alii."  Ibid.,  ubi  supra. 


ESPIXOSA.  >"".  651 

He  was  slow  in  betraying  his  intention,  by  word  or  act,  to  the  courtiers,  still 
more  to  the  unfortunate  minister,  who  continued  to  show  the  same  security 
and  confidence  as  if  he  were  treading  the  solid  ground,  instead  of  the  crust  of 
a  volcano. 

At  length  an  opportunity  offered  when  Espinosa,  in  a  discussion  respecting 
the  affairs  of  Flanders,  made  a  statement  which  the  king  deemed  not  entirely 
conformable  to  truth.  Philip  at  once  broke  in  upon  the  discourse  with  an 
appearance  of  great  indignation,  and  charged  the  minister  with  falsehood. 
The  blow  was  the  more  effectual,  coming  from  one  who  had  been  scarcely  ever 
known  to  give  way  to  passion."  The  cardinal  was  stunned  by  it.  He  at  once 
saw  his  ruin,  and  the  vision  of  glory  vanished  for  ever.  He  withdrew,  more 
dead  than  alive,  t6  his  house.  There  he  soon  took  to  his  bed  ;  and  in  a  short 
time,  in  September,  1572,  he  breathed  his  last.  His  fate  was  that  of  more 
than  one  minister  whose  head  had  been  made  giddy  by  the  height  to  which  he 
had  climbed.14 

The  council  of  state,  under  its  two  great  leaders,  Alva  and  Ruy  Gomez,  was 
sure  to  be  divided  on  every  question  of  importance.  This  was  a  fruitful  source 
of  embarrassment,  and  to  private  suitors,  especially,  occasioned  infinite  delay. 
Such  was  the  hostility  of  the  parties  to  each  other  that  if  an  applicant  for 
favour  secured  the  good  will  of  one  of  the  chiefs  he  was  very  certain  to  en- 
counter the  ill  will  of  the- other.1*  He  was  a  skilful  pilot  who  in  such  cross 
seas  could  keep  his  course. 

Yet  the  existence  of  these  divisions  does  not  seem  to  have  been  discouraged 
by  Philip,  who  saw  in  them  only  the  natural  consequence  of  a  rivalry  for  his 
favour.  They  gave  him,  moreover,  the  advantage  of  seeing  every  question  of 
moment  well  canvassed,  and,  by  furnishing  him  with  the  opposite  opinions  of 
his  councillors,  enabled  him  the  more  accurately  to  form  his  own.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  value  which  he  set  on  both  the  great  chiefs  made  him  careful 
not  to  disgust  either  by  any  show  of  preference  for  his  rival.  He  held  the 
balance  adroitly  between  them  ;  and  if  on  any  occasion  he  bestowed  a  mark 
of  his  favour  on  the  one,  it  was  usually  followed  by  some  equivalent  to  the 
other."  Thus,  for  the  first  twelve  years  of  his  reign  their  influence  may  be 
said  to  have  been  pretty  equally  exerted.  Then  came  the  memorable  dis- 
cussion respecting  the  royal  visit  to  the  Netherlands.  Alva,  as  the  reader  may 
remember,  was  of  the  opinion  that  Philip  should  send  an  army  to  punish  the 
refractory  and  bring  the  country  to  obedience,  when  the  king  might  visit  it 
with  safety  to  his  own  person.  'Ruy  Gomez,  on  the  other  hand,  recommended 
that  Philip  should  go  at  once,  without  an  army,  and  by  mild  and  conciliatory 
measures  win  the  malecontents  back  to  their  allegiance.  Each  advised  the 
course  most  congenial  to  his  own  temper,  and  the  one,  moreover,  which  would 
have  required  the  aid  of  his  own  services  to  carry  it  into  execution.  Unfor- 
tunately, the  violent  measures  of  Alva  were  more  congenial  to-the  stern  temper 
of  the  king,  and  the  duke  was  sent  at  the  head  of  his  battalions. 

"  The  anonymous  author  of  a  contemporary  Segundo,  p.  699. 

relation  speaks  of  the  kin*  as  n  person  little  '    "  Perch*  cbt  vnole  II  favor-  del  due* 

subject  to  passions  of  any  klml.    The  Ian-  d'Alva  perde  quello  dl  Rny  Gomez,  e  chi 

guage  I*  striking:  "E  questo  R«  poco  sog-  rerra  II  favore  dl  Ruy  Gomez,  non  ha  quello 

getto  slip  paxlonl,  venga  c!6,  o  per  Incllna-  del  duca  d'Alva."    Relazione  dl  Soiiano,  MS. 
xlone  naturale,  o  per  costume  ;  e  quasi  non  "  Kanke  has  given    some   pertinent    ex- 

apparlfcono  in  lul  I  primi  movlmentl  IIP  dell'  ani[>l<-s  of  this  in  an  interesting  sketch  which 

all'-grezza,  ne  del  dolore,  ne  dell'  Ira  ancora."  be  has  presented  of  the  relative  positions  of 

MS.  these  two  statesmen  in  the  cabinet  of  1'liillp. 

'  "  El  Rey  le  hab!6  tan  asp  ramente  sobre  Ottoman  and  Spanish  Empires  i,Kng.  trans.), 

el   aflnar  una  verdait,  qiin  V   mato    l-n-ve-  p.  38. 
"  My*  Cabrera  emphatically.    Klllpe 


652  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

But  if  Alva  thus  gained  the  victory,  it  was  Ruy  Gomez  who  reaped  the 
fruits  of  it.  Left  without  a  rival  in  the  council,  his  influence  became  predomi- 
nant over  every  other.  It  became  still  more  firmly  established  as  the  result 
showed  that  his  rival's  mission  was  a  failure.  So  it  continued,  after  Alva's 
return,  till  the  favourite's  death.  Even  then  his  well-organized  party  was  so 
deeply  rooted  that  for  several  years  longer  it  maintained  an  ascendency  in  the 
cabinet,  while  the  duke  languished  in  disgrace. 

Philip,  unlike  most  of  his  predecessors,  rarely  took  his  seat  in  the  council  of 
state.  It  was  his  maxim  that  his  ministers  would  more  freely  discuss  measures 
in  the  absence  of  their  master  than  when  he  was  there  to  overawe  them. 
The  course  he  adopted  was  for  a  consulta,  or  a  committee  of  two  or  three 
members,  to  wait  on  him  in  his  cabinet  and  report  to  him  the  proceedings  of 
the  council.17  He  more  commonly,  especially  in  the  later  years  of  his  reign, 
preferred  to  receive  a  full  report  of  the  discussion,  written  "so  as  to  leave  an 
ample  margin  for  his  own  commentaries.  These  were  eminently  characteristic 
of  the  man,  and  were  so  minute  as  usually  to  cover  several  sheets  of  paper. 
Philip  had  a  reserved  and  unsocial  temper.  He  preferred  to  work  alone,  in 
the  seclusion  of  his  closet,  rather  than  in  the  presence  of  others.  This  may 
explain  the  reason,  in  part,  why  he  seemed  so  much  to  prefer  writing  to  talk- 
ing. Even  with  his  private  secretaries,  who  were  always  near  at  hand,  he 
chose  to  communicate  by  writing ;  and  they  had  as  large  a  mass  of  his  auto- 
graph notes  in  their  possession  as  if  the  correspondence  had  been  carried  on 
from  different  parts  of  the  kingdom.18  His  thoughts  too — at  any  rate  his 
words — came  slowly ;  and  by  writing  he  gained  time  for  the  utterance  of 
them. 

Philip  has  been  accused  of  indolence.  As  far  as  the  body  was  concerned, 
such  an  accusation  was  well  founded.  Even  when  young,  he  had  no  fondness, 
as  we  have  seen,  for  the  robust  and  chivalrous  sports  of  the  age.  He  never, 
like  his  father,  conducted  military  expeditions  in  person.  He  thought  it  wiser 
to  follow  the  example  of  his  great-grandfather,  Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  who 
stayed  at  home  and  sent  his  generals  to  command  his  armies.  As  little  did  he 
like  to  travel, — forming  too  in  this  respect  a  great  contrast  to  the  emperor. 
He  had  been  years  on  the  throne  before  he  made  a  visit  to  his  great  southern 
capital,  Seville.  It  was  a  matter  of  complaint  in  cortes  that  he  thus  withdrew 
himself  from  the  eyes  of  his  subjects.  The  only  sport  he  cared  for — not  by  any 
means  to  excess — was  shooting  with  his  gun  or  his  cross-bow  such  game  as  he 
could  find  in  his  own  grounds  at  the  Wood  of  Segovia,  or  Aranjuez,  or  some 
other  of  his  pleasant  country-seats,  none  of  them  at  a  great  distance  from 
Madrid. 

On  a  visit  to  such  places  he  would  take  with  him  as  large  a  heap  of  papers 
as  if  he  were  a  poor  clerk  earning  his  bread ;  and  after  the  fatigues  of  the 
chase  he  would  retire  to  his  cabinet  and  refresh  himself  with  his  despatches.19 
It  would  indeed  be  a  great  mistake  to  charge  him  with  sluggishness  of  mind. 
He  was  content  to  toil  for  hours,  and  long  into  the  night,  at  his  solitary 
labours.20  No  expression  of  weariness  or  of  impatience  was  known  to  escape 

"  "Non  ei  trova  mai  S.  M.  presente  alle  de  bolver  al  trabajo,  como  un  oficial  pobre 

deliberation!    ne    i    consigli,   ma   deliberate  que  buviera  de  ganar  la  coraida  ron  ello." 

cbiama  una  delle  tre  consulte  .  .  .  alia  qual  Los  Dicbos  y  Hecbus  del   Rey  Phelipe   II. 

sempre  si  ritrova,  onde  sono   lette  le  riso-  (Brusselas,  1666),  p.  214.— See  also  Relazione 

lutiuni  del  consiglio."    Relazione  di  Tiepolo.  di  Pigafetta,  MS. 

MS.  ""  Relazione   di   Vandramino.    MS. — Rela- 

"  Ranke,  Ottoman  and  Spanish  Empires,  zlone  di  Contarini,  MS. — "  Distribuia  las  boras 

p.  32.  del  dia,  se  puede  decir,  todas  en  los  negocios, 

"  "El  dla  que  iva  a  caija  bolvia  con  aneias  quaudo  yo  lo  conocf ;  porque  auuque  las  teui 


PERSONAL  HABITS  OF  PHILIP.  653 

him.  A  characteristic  anecdote  is  told  of  him  in  regard  to  this.  Having 
written  a  despatch,  late  at  night,  to  be  sent  on  the  following  morning,  he 
handed  it  to  his  secretary  to  throw  some  sand  over  it.  This  functionary,  who 
happened  to  he  dozing,  suddenly  roused  himself,  and,  snatching  up  the  ink- 
stand, emptied  it  on  the  paper.  The  king,  coolly  remarking  that  "  it  would 
have  been  better  to  use  the  sand,"  set  himself  down,  without  any  complaint,  to 
rewrite  the  whole  of  the  letter.*1  A  prince  so  much  addicted  to  the  pen,  we 
may  well  believe,  must  have  left  a  large  amount  of  autograph  materials  behind 
him.  Few  monarchs,  in  point  of  fact,  have  done  so  much  in  this  way  to 
illustrate  the  history  of  their  reigns.  Fortunate  would  it  have  been  for  the 
historian  who  was  to  profit  by  it,  if  the  royal  composition  had  been  somewhat 
less  diffuse  and  the  handwriting  somewhat  more  legible. 

Philip  was  an  economist  of  time,  and  regulated  the  distribution  of  it  with 
great  precision.  In  the  morning  he  gave  audience  to  foreign-  ambassadors. 
He  afterwards  heard  mass.  After  mass  came  dinner,  in  his  father's  fashion. 
But  dinner  was  not  an  affair  with  Philip  of  so  much  moment  as  it  was  with 
Charles.  He  was  exceedingly  temperate  both  in  eating  and  drinking,  and  not 
unfrequently  had  his  physician  at  his  side,  to  warn  him  against  any  provo- 
cative of  the  gout, — the  hereditary  disease  which  at  a  very  early  period  had 
begun  to  affect  his  health.  After  a  light  repast,  he  gave  audience  to  such 
of  his  subjects  as  desired  to  present  their  memorials.  He  received  the 
petitioners  graciously,  and  listened  to  all  they  had  to  say  with  patience,— for 
that  was  his  virtue.  But  his  countenance  was  exceedingly  grave, — which,  in 
truth,  was  its  natural  expression  ;  and  there  was  a  reserve  in  his  deportment 
which  made  the  boldest  feel  ill  at  ease  in  his  presence.  On  such  occasions 
he  would  say,  "  Compose  yourself ," — a  recommendation  that  had  not  always 
the  tranquillizing  effect  intended.*1  Once  when  a  papal  nuncio  forgot,  in  his 
confusion,  the  address  he  had  prepared,  the  king  coolly  remarked,  "  If  you 
will  bring  it  in  writing,  I  will  read  it  myself,  and  expedite  your  business."  ** 
It  was  natural  that  men  of  even  the  Highest  rank  should  be  overawed  in 
the  presence  of  a  monarch  who  held  the  destinies  of  so  many  millions  in  his 
hands,  and  who  surrounded  himself  with  a  veil  of  mystery  which  the  most- 
cunning  politician  could  not  penetrate. 

The  reserve  so  noticeable  in  his  youth  increased  with  age.  He  became 
more  difficult  of  access.  His  public  audiences  were  much  less  frequent.  In 
the  summer  he  would  escape  from  them  altogether,  by  taking  refuge  in  some 
one  of  his  country  places.  His  favourite  retreat  was  his  palace-monastery  of 
the  Escorial,  then  slowly  rising  under  his  patronage  and  affording  him  an 
occupation  congenial  with  his  taste.  He  seems,  however,  to  have  sought  the 
country  not  so  much  from  the  love  of  its  beauties  as  for  the  retreat  it  afforded 
him  from  the  town.  When  in  the  latter,  he  rarely  showed  himself  to  the 
public  eye,  going  abroad  chiefly  in  a  close  carriage,  and  driving  late  so  as 
to  return  to  the  city  after  dark.*4 

Thus  he  lived  in  solitude  even  in  the  heart  of  his  capital,  knowing  much 

de  of  lo  u  ocupaciones  for^osas  de  mi  pemona.  Ibid.,  p.  40. 

1»»  gaatava  con  tale*  cr  ados  elrgiilo*  tan  ii  po-  -    ••  Dlzlcndolc  ti  lo  tracts  escrlto,  lo  vere, 

poetlo  que  quanto  liahlava  vcnia  a  nor  In-  jr  os  hare  de*paihar."     Ibid.,  p.  41. 

Corn  arm  mucbo,  deacanso  en  lo  que  a  otro  "  "Quando  «-»ce  di  Palazzo,  suole  montare 

roMara  nota  y  fetiga."     MS.   Anon,  in   the  In  an  cocchio  coperto  di  tola  Inccrata,  et  cer- 

Library  of  the  D  ike*  of  Burgundy,  rata  a    tnctlo  chc  non    ni    vrdt>.  .  .  .  Suole 

•  Dicho«  y  Hecbofl  del  Key  Pbellpe  II.,  pp.  quando  va  In  villa  ritoraarc  la  sen  per  le 

339,  400.  purte  del  I'arco,  tenzaemrr  vedutodaalumo." 

"  "  A  estos  ertan  lo  turbado*.  y  dpnalrn-  Kelazione  dl  Plgafetta,  MS. 
tadot,    lo*    anlmara  dizl«-ml<  If*, 


654  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

less  of  men  from  his  own  observation  than  from  the  reports  that  were  marie 
to  him.  In  availing  himself  of  these  sources  of  information  be  was  indefati- 
gable. He  caused  a  statistical  survey  of  Spain  to  be  prepared  for  his  own 
use  It  was  a  work  of  immense  labour,  embracing  a  vast  amount  of  curious 
details,  such  as  were  rarely  brought  together  in  those  days.2*  He  kept  his 
spies  at  the  principal  European  courts,  who  furnished  him  with  intelligence  ; 
and  he  was  as  well  acquainted  with  what  was  passing  in  England  and  in 
France  as  if  he  had  resided  on  the  spot.  We  have  seen  now  well  he  knew  the 
smallest  details  of  the  proceedings  in  the  Netherlands,  sometimes  even  better 
than  Margaret  herself.  He  employed  similar  means  to  procure  information 
that  might  be  of  service  in  malting  appointments  to  ecclesiastical  and  civil 
offices. 

In  his  eagerness  for  information,  his  ear  was  ever  open  to  accusations  against 
his  ministers,,  which,  as  they  were  sure  to  be  locked  up  in  his  own  bosom, 
were  not  slow  in  coming  to  him.2"  This  filled  his  mind  with  suspicions.  He 
waited  till  time  had  proved  their  truth,  treating  the  object  of  them  with 
particular  favour  till  the  hour  of  vengeance  had  arrived.  The  reader  will  not 
nave  forgotten  the  terrible  saying  of  Philip's  own  historian,  "His  dagger 
followed  close  upon  his  smile."  *7 

Even  to  the  ministers  in  whom  Philip  appeared  most  to  confide,  he  often 
gave  but  half  his  confidence.  Instead  of  frankly  furnishing  them  with  a  full 
statement  of  facts,  he  sometimes  made  so  imperfect  a  disclosure  that,  when 
his  measures  came  to  be  taken,  his  counsellors  were  surprised  to  find  of  how 
much  they  had  been  kept  in  ignorance.  When  he  communicated  to  them 
any  foreign  despatches,  ne  would  not  scruple  to  alter  the  original,  striking 
out  some  passages  and  inserting  others,  so  as  best  to  serve  his  purpose.  The 
copy,  in  this  garbled  form,  was  given  to  the  council.  Such  was  the  case  with 
a  letter  of  Don  John  of  Austria,  containing  an  account  of  the  troubles  of 
Genoa,  the  original  of  which,  with  its  numerous  alterations  in  the  royal  hand- 
writing, still  exists  in  the  Archives  of  Simancas.2' 

But,  though  Philip's  suspicious  nature  prevented  him  from  entirely  trusting 
his  ministers, — though  with  chilling  reserve  he  kept  at  a  distance  even  those 
who  approached  him  nearest,— he  was  kind,  even  liberal,  to  his  servants,  was 
not  capricious  in  his  humours,  and  seldom,  if  ever,  gave  way  to  those  sallies 
of  passion  so  common  in  princes  clothed  with  absolute  power.  He  was  patient 
to  the  last  degree,  and  rarely  changed  his  ministers  without  good  cause.  Ruy 
Gomez  was  not  the  only  courtier  who  continued  in  the  royal  service  to  the 
end  of  his  days. 

Philip  was  of  a  careful,  or,  to  say  truth,  of  a  frugal  disposition,  which  he  may 
well  have  inherited  from  his  father  ;  though  this  did  not,  as  with  his  father 
in  later  life,  degenerate  into  parsimony.  The  beginning  of  his  reign,  indeed, 
was  distinguished  by  some  acts  of  uncommon  liberality.  One  of  these  occurred 
at  the  close  of  Alvas  campaigns  in  Italy,  when  the  king  presented  that  com- 
mander with  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  ducats,  greatly  to  the  discontent  of 
the  emperor.  This  was  contrary  to  his  usual  policy.  As  he  grew  older,  and 
the  expenses  of  government  pressed  more  heavily  on  him,  he  became  more 
economical.  Yet  those  who  served  him  had  no  reason,  like  the  emperor's 
servants,  to  complain  of  their  master's  meanness.  It  was  observed,  however, 

*•  Ranke,  Ottoman  and  Spanish  Empin-s,  "  See  ante,  p.  457. 

p.  32.— Inglis  speaks  of  seeing  this  work  in  "  Lafuente,  Historia  rte  Espafia,  torn.  xlv. 

the  library  when   he  visited    the    Kscorlal.  p.  44. — The  historian  tells  us  he  has  seen  the 

Spain  in  1830,  vol.  i.  p.  348.  original  letter,  with  the  changes  made  in  it 

*°  Ranke,  Ottoman  and  Spanish  Empire?,  by  I  hilip. 
p.  33. 


PERSONAL  HABITS  OF  PHILIP.  -655 

that  he  was  slow  to  recompense  those  who  served  him  until  they  had  proved 
themselves  worthy  of  it.  Still,  it  was  a  man's  own  fault,  says  a  contemporary, 
if  he  was  not  well  paid  for  his  services  in  the  end.28 

In  one  particular  he  indulged  in  a  most  lavish  expenditure.  This  was  his 
household.  It  was  formed  on  the  Burgundian  model, — the  most  stately  and 
magnificent  in  Europe.  Its  peculiarity  consisted  in  the  number  and  quality 
of  the  members  who  composed  it.  The  principal  officers  were  nobles  of  the 
highest  rank,  who  frequently  held  posts  of  great  consideration  in  the  state. 
Thus,  the  duke  of  Alva  was  chief  major-domo ;  the  prince  of  Eboli  was  first 
gentleman  of  the  bedchamber  ;  the  duke  of  Feria  was  captain  of  the  Spanish 
guard.  There  was  the  grand  equerry,  the  grand  huntsman,  the  chief  muleteer, 
and  a  host  of  officers,  some  of  whom  were  designated  by  menial  titles,  though 
nobles  and  cavaliers  of  family.*'  There  were  forty  pages,  sous  of  the  most 
illustrious  houses  in  Castile.  The  whole  household  amounted  to  no  less  than 
fifteen  hundred  persons.*1  The  king's  guard  consisted  of  three  hundred  men, 
one  third  of  whom  were  Spaniards,  one-third  Flemings,  and  the  remainder 
Germans.*2 

The  queen  had  also  her  establishment  on  the  same  scale.  She  had  twenty- 
six  ladies-in-waiting,  and,  among  other  functionaries,  no  less  than  four  physi- 
cians to  watch  over  her  health.** 

The  annual  cost  of  the  royal  establishment  amounted  to  full  two  hundred 
thousand  florins.*4  The  cortes  earnestly  remonstrated  against  tliis  useless 
prodigality,  beseeching  the  king  to  place  his  household  on  the  modest  scale  to 
which  the  monarchs  of  Castile  had  oeen  accustomed.*5  And  it  seems  singular 
that  one  usually  so  averse  to  extravagance  and  pomp  should  have  so  recklessly 
indulged  in  them  here.  It  was  one  of  those  inconsistencies  which  we  some- 
times meet  with  in  private  life,  when  a  man  habitually  careful  of  his  expenses 
indulges  himself  in  some  which  taste,  or,  as  in  this  case,  early  habits,  have 
made  him  regard  as  indispensable.  The  emperor  had  been  careful  to  form 
the  household  of  his  son,  when  very  young,  on  the  Burgundian  model ;  and 
Philip,  thus  early  trained,  probably  regarded  it  as  essential  to  the  royal 
dignity. 

The  king  did  not  affect  an  ostentat'on  in  his  dress  corresponding  with  that 
of  his  household.  This  seemed  to  be  suited  to  the  sober-coloured  livery  of  his 
own  feelings,  and  was  almost  always  of  black  velvet  or  satin,  with  shoes  of 
the  former  material.  He  wore  a  cap,  garnished  with  pl-imes  after  the  Spani-h 
fashion.  He  used  few  ornaments,  scarce  any  but  the  rich  jewel  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  which  hung  from  his  neck.  But  in  his  attire  he  was  scrupulously 
neat,  says  the  Venetian  diplomatist  who  tells  these  particulars ;  and  he 
changed  his  dress  for  a  new  one  every  month,  giving  away  his  cast-off  suits  to 
his  attendants.** 

It  was  a  capital  defect  in  Philip's  administration  that  his  love  of  power  and 

••  "CM  coratnda  a  eervlrlo  nu6  tener  per  alia  rinfnsa  intorno  all* person*  reale;  I'  altri 

c«rU  la  remunerazkme.  Re  11  difetto  non  vlen  8>>no  d'Albanlicri   100  dl  nazion  tedesca,   ct 

da  Inl."     Reladone  Anon.,  MS.  altrl    <•    t.tnti    Spagnuull."    Relazione    del  a 

"•  Relazione  ctella  Corte  ill  Spagna,  MS.—  Cone  dl  Spagna,  MS. 

Relail-ine  dl  Badocr,  M.S.— Etlquetas  dc  PaU-  "  Raumer,  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 

clo,  MS.  tnrien.  vol.  I.  p.  106. 

"  Relazione  dl  Radoer,  MS.  "  Ibid.,  105. 

*•  "  Ha  tre  guitrdle  di  loo  persone  1'  nna  j  "  Cortes  of  1558,  petkrton  4. 

la  piti  lionorata  e  dl  Borgognonl  e  Kiammln-  **  "  Quest)  habltl  sempr-  Bono  nuovl  et  pn> 

Rtil,  che  hanno  ad  eMer  ben  natl  e  wrvono  a  lltl.  perche  ognl  mece  te  gli  niula,  ct  poi  gli 

cavsllo.  e  el  dirono  Arclcrl  accompauoando  dona  quando  ad  uno,  e  quando  ad  un  altro." 

ttto*  11  Re  p  r  la  cttU  a  pledp  non  In  flla,  ma  R«lazlon«  dl  Ifgafettu,  MS. 


656  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

his  distrust  of  others  made  him  desire  to  do  everything  himself, — even  tho~e 
things  which  could  be  done  much  better  by  his  ministers.  As  he  was  slow  in 
making  up  his  own  opinions,  and  seldom  acted  without  first  ascertaining  those 
of  his  council,  we  may  well  understand  the  mischievous  consequences  of  such 
delay.  Loud  were  the  complaints  of  private  suitors,  who  saw  month  after 
month  pass  away  without  an  answer  to  their  petitions.  The  state  suffered  no 
less,  as  the  wheels  of  government  seemed  actually  to  stand  still  under  the 
accumulated  pressure  of  the  public  business.  Even  when  a  decision  did  come, 
it  often  came  too  late  to  be  of  service ;  for  the  circumstances  which  led  to  it 
had  wholly  changed.  Of  this  the  reader  has  seen  more  than  one  example  in 
the  Netherlands.  The  favourite  saying  of  Philip,  that  "  time  and  he  were  a 
match  for  any  other  two,"  was  a  sad  mistake.  The  time  he  demanded  was 
his  ruin  It  was  in  vain  that  Granvelle,  who,  at  a  later  day,  came  to  Castile 
to  assume  the  direction  of  affairs,  endeavoured,  in  his  courtly  language,  to 
convince  the  king  of  his  error,  telling  him  that  no  man  could  hear  up  under 
such  a  load  of  business,  which  sooner  or  later  must  destroy  his  health,  perhaps 
his  life.'7 

A  letter  addressed  to  the  king  by  his  grand  almoner,  Don  Luis  Mftnrique, 
told  the  truth  in  plainer  terms,  such  as  Tiad  not  often  reached  the  royal  ear. 
"  Your  majesty's  subjects  everywhere  complain,"  he  says,  "  of  your  manner 
of  doing  business, — sitting  all  day  long  over  your  papers,  from  your  desire,  as 
they  intimate,  to  seclude  yourself  from  the  world,  and  from  a  want  of  con- 
fidence in  your  ministers.*8  Hence  such  interminable  delays  as  fill  the  soul 
of  every  suitor  with  despair.  Your  subjects  are  discontented  that  you  refuse 
to  take  your  seat  in  the  council  of  state.  The  Almighty,"  he  adds,  "  did  not 
send  kings  into  the  world  to  spend  their  days  in  reading  or  writing,  or  even 
in  meditation  and  prayer," — in  which  Philip  was  understood  to  pass  much  of 
his  time, — "  but  to  serve  as  public  oracles,  to  which  all  may  resort  for  answers. 
If  any  sovereign  have  received  this  grace,  it  is  your  majesty ;  and  the 
greater  the  sin,  therefore,  if  you  do  not  give  free  access  to  all."  *9  One  may 
be  surprised  to  find  that  language  such  as  this  was  addressed  to  a  prince  like 
Philip  the  Second,  and  that  he  should  have  borne  it  so  patiently.  But  in  this 
the  king  resembled  his  father.  Churchmen  and  jesters — of  which  latter  he 
had  usually  one  or  two  in  attendance — were  privileged  persons  at  his  court. 
In  point  of  fact,  the  homilies  of  the  one  had  as  little  effect  as  the  jests  of  the 
other. 

The  pomp  of  the  royal  establishment  was  imitated  on  a  smaller  scale  by  the 

17  Gachard  cites  a  passage  from  one  of  Gran-  magestad  habia  tornado  de  nesociar,  estando 

velle's  unpublished  letters,  in  which  he  says,  perpetuami-nte  asido  &  los  papeles,  por  tcn--r 

"Supllco  a  V.  M.,  con  la  humiida  1  que  devo,  tnejor  titulo  para  buir  de  la  (?<-nte,  ademas  de 

qn?  considerando  quanto  su  vida  importa  al  no  quererse  flar  de  nadie."    Carta  que  escrivio 

principe  nuestro  seflor.  &  todos  BUS  reynos  y  al  S  fi'T  Rey  Kelipe  Segundo  Don  Luis  Man- 

Estados,  y  vasallos   suyos,  y  aun  a  toda  la  rique,  MI  limosnero  mayor,  MS. 

christiandad,  inirando  en  que  miserando  es-  •'"  "  No  embio  Dios  a  vuestra  magestad  y  & 

tado  quedan'a  sin   V.  M.,  sea  servido  mirar.  todos  los  otros  Reyes,  que  tienen  sus  veces  en 

adelmte   mas  por    BU    salud,   de^cargandose  U  tierri,  para  qne  se  extravien  leyendo   ni 
de  tan  grande  y  continue  trabajo,  que  tanto    .   esTibiendo  ni  aun  contemplamlo  ni  rezando, 

d:sfio   le  haze."      Rappo-t  prefixed   to   the  si  no  para  que  fuesen  y  sean  publicns  y  pa- 

Correspondance  de  Philippe  II.  (torn.  i.  p.  li.),  tentes  oraculos  &  donde  todos  sus  subditos 

in  which  the  Belgian  scholar,  with  his  usual  vengan  por  sus  respu<»stas.  .  .  .  Y  si  &  algun 

conscientiousness  and  care,   enters   into  an  Rey  en  el  mundo  dio  Dios  esta  gracia,  es  a 

examination  of  the  character  and  personal  vuestra  magestad  y  por  eso  es  mayor  la  culpa 

habits  of  Philip.  d;  no  manifestarse  &  todos."     Ibid.— A  copy 

*•  "  Habiendo  en  otra  ocasion    avisado  it  of  tliis  letter  i<  preserved  among  the  Eg  -non 

vnestra  magestad  de  la  publica  querella  y  MSS,  in  the  British  Museum., 
desconsuelo  que  habia  del  estilo  que  vuestra 


COURT  AND  NOBLES.  657 

great  nobles  living  on  their  vast  estates  scattered  over  the  country.  Their 
revenues  were  very  large,  though  often  heavily  burdened.  Out  of  twenty- 
three  dukes,  in  1581,  only  three  had  an  income  so  low  as  forty  thousand  ducats 
a  year.4*  That  of  most  of  the  others  ranged  from  fifty  to  a  Hundred  thousand, 
and  that  of  one,  the  duke  of  Medina  Sidonia,  was  computed  at  a  hundred  and 
thirty-five  thousand.  Revenues  like  these  would  not  easily  have  been 
matched  in  that  day  by  the  aristocracy  of  any  other  nation  in  Christendom.41 

The  Spanish  grandees  preferred  to  live  on  their  estates  in  the  country. 
But  in  the  winter  they  repaired  to  Madrid,  and  displayed  their  magnificence 
at  the  court  of  their  sovereign.  Here  they  dazzled  the  eye  by  the  splendour 
of  their  equipages,  the  beauty  of  their  horses,  their  rich  liveries,  and  tie 
throng  of  their  retainers.  But  with  all  this  the  Castilian  court  was  far  from 
appearing  in  the  eyes  of  foreigners  a  gay  one, — forming  in  this  respect  a  con- 
trast to  the  Flemish  court  of  Margaret  of  Parma.  It  seemed  to  have  imbibed 
much  of  the  serious  and  indeed  sombre  character  of  the  monarch  who  pre- 
sided over  it  All  was  stately  and  ceremonious,  with  old-fashioned  manners 
and  usages.  "There  is  nothing  new  to  be  seen  there,"  write  the  Venetian 
envoys.  "There  is  no  pleasant  gossip  about  the  events  of  the  day.  If  a 
man  is  acquainted  with  any  news,  he  is  too  prudent  to  repeat  it.4*  The 
courtiers  talk  little,  and  for  the  most  part  are  ignorant, — in  fact,  without  the 
least  tincture  of  learning.  The  arrogance  of  the  great  lords  is  beyond  belief  ; 
and  when  they  meet  a  foreign  ambassador,  or  even  the  nuncio  of  his  holiness, 
they  rarely  condescend  to  salute  him  by  raising  their  caps.43  They  all  affect 
that  imperturbable  composure,  or  apathy,  which  they  term  sosieyo.  44 

They  gave  no  splendid  banquets,  like  the  Flemish  nobles.  Their  chief 
amusement  was  gaining, — the  hereditary  vice  of  the  Spaniard.  They  played 
deep,  often  to  the  great  detriment  of  their  fortunes.  This  did  not  displease 
the  king.  It  may  seem  strange  that  a  society  so  cold  and  formal  should  be 
much  addicted  to  intrigue.4*  In  this  they  followed  the  example  of  their 
master. 

Thus  passing  their  days  in  frivolous  amusements  and  idle  dalliance,  the 
Spanish  nobles,  with  the  lofty  titles  and  pretensions  of  their  ancestors,  were  a 
degenerate  race.  With  a  few  brilliant  exceptions,  they  filled  no  important 
jKwts  in  the  state  or  in  the  army.  The  places  of  most  consideration  to  which 
they  aspired  were  those  connected  with  the  royal  household  ;  and  their  greatest 
honour  was  to  possess  the  empty  privileges  of  the  grandee,  and  to  sit  with 
their  heads  covered  in  the  presence  of  the  king.4* 

From  this  life  of  splendid  humiliation  they  were  nothing  loath  to  escape 
into  the  country,  where  they  passed  their  days  in  their  ancestral  castles,  sur- 

M  Nota  dl  tuiti  II  Titolati  dl  Spagna  con  It  e  a  maravigtla  ignorant?  e  fit ir.it a,  maiite- 

loro  casate  et  rendite,  etc.,  fatta  ncl  1581,  MS.  nendo  una  certa  8ua  alterigia,  che  luru  cliia- 

41  Ibid. — The  Spanish  aristocracy,  in  1.>1,  mano  tutsirgo,  che  vuol  dire  tranquilllla  et 

reckoned  twenty-three  dukes,  forty-two  mar-  siciirezzii,  et  quasi  serenita."    Kelazione  di 

quises,  and  fifty-six  counts.     All  the  dukes  Pigafofa,  MS. 

and  thirteen  of  the  inferior  nobles  were  gran-  •  •  "  Non  si  convita,  non  si  cavalca,  si  giu- 

dees.  oca,  et  si  fa  all'  amore."     Ibid. — See  also  the 

M  "La  corte  e  tnuta;  in  publlco  non  si  ra-  Relazioni  of  Badoeru  and  Cuntarini. 
plena  di  nuove,  et  chi  pure  le  M,  se  le  tace."  ••  Dr.   Salaiutr  y   Mendoza    takes    a    very 

Kelazione  di  Plgafrtta,  MS.  exalted  view  of  the  importance  of  this  right 

•»  "Sonod*  aniiuo  Unto  elevato  .  .  .  che  e  to  wear  the  bat  in  the  presence  of  the  king.  - 

cosa  molto difficile  da  credere  .  .  .  e  quando  "a  prerogative,"  he  remarks  "so  Illustrious 

avvieneche  Incontrino  o  nunzl  del  ponteflce  o  in  Itself,  and  so  admirable  In  its  effects,  tint  it 

amba-icindori  di  qualcne  testa  coronata  o  d'  alone  suffices  to  stamp  Its  peculiar  character 

altro  statn.  pochisslml  son  quelli  che  si  levin  on  the  dignity  of  the  grandee."   Dignidades  de 

la  berrta."    Relazione  dl  Badoero,  MS.  Castllla,  p.  34. 

M  "Non  si  alUMide  a  IctU-re.ma  la  Nobilita 

2  D 


658  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

rounded  by  princely  domains,  which  embraced  towns  and  villages  within  their 
circuit,  and  a  population  sometimes  reaching  to  thirty  thousand  families. 
Here  the  proud  lords  lived  in  truly  regal  pomp.  Their  households  were  formed 
on  that  of  the  sovereign.  They  had  their  major-domos,  their  gentlemen  of 
the  bedchamber,  their  grand  equerries,  and  other  officers  of  rank.  Their  halls 
were  filled  with  hidalgos  and  cavaliers,  and  a  throng  of  inferior  retainers. 
They  were  attended  by  body-guards  of  one  or  two  hundred  soldiers.  Their 
dwellings  were  sumptuously  furnished,  and  their  sideboards  loaded  with  plate 
from  the  silver  quarries  of  the  New  World.  Their  chapels  were  magnificent. 
Their  wives  affected  a  royal  state.  They  had  their  ladies  of  honour  ;  and  the 
page  who  served  as  cup-bearer  kne't  while  his  mistress  drank.  Even  knights 
of  ancient  blood,  whom  she  addressed  from  her  seat,  did  not  refuse  to  bend 
the  knee  to  her." 

Amidst  all  this  splendour,  the  Spanish  grandees  had  no  real  power  to  corre- 
spond with  it.  They  could  no  longer,  as  in  the  days  of  their  fathers,  engage 
in  feuds  with  one  another ;  nor  could  they  enjoy  the  privilege,  so  highly 
prized,  of  renouncing  their  allegiance  and  declaring  war  upon  their  sovereign. 
Their  numerous  vassals,  instead  of  being  gathered  as  of  yore  into  a  formidable 
military  array,  had  sunk  into  the  more  humble  rank  of  retainers,  who  served 
only  to  swell  the  idle  pomp  of  their  lord's  establishment.  They  were  no  longer 
allowed  to  bear  arms,  except  in  the  service  of  the  crown  ;  and  after  the 
Moriscoes  had  been  reduced,  the  crown  had  no  occasion  for  their  services, — 
unless  in  foreign  war." 

The  measures  by  which  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  had  broken  the  power  of 
the  aristocracy  had  been  enforced  with  still  greater  rigour  by  Charles  the 
Fifth,  and  were  now  carried  out  even  more  effectually  by  Philip  the  Second. 
For  Philip  had  the  advantage  of  being  always  in  Spain,  while  Charles  passed 
most  of  his  time  in  other  parts  of  his  dominions.  Thus  ever  present,  Philip 
was  as  prompt  to  enforce  the  law  against  the  highest  noble  as  against  the 
humblest  of  his  subjects. 

Men  of  rank  commanded  the  armies  abroad,  and  were  sent  as  viceroys  to 
Naples,  Sicily,  Milan,  and  the  provinces  of  the  New  World.  But  at  home 
they  were  rarely  raised  to  civil  or  military  office.  They  no  longer  formed  a 
necessary  part  of  the  national  legislature,  and  were  seldom  summoned  to  the 
meetings  of  the  cortes  ;  for  the  Castilian  noble  claimed  exemption  from  the 
public  burdens,  and  it  was  rarely  that  the  cortes  were  assembled  for  any 
other  purpose  than  to  impose  those  burdens.  Thus  without  poHtical  power 
of  any  kind,  they  resided  like  so  many  private  gentlemen  on  their  estates  in 
the  country.  Their  princely  style  of  living  gave  no  umbrage  to  the  king,  who 
was  rather  pleased  to  see  them  dissipate  their  vast  revenues  in  a  way  that  was 
attended  with  no  worse  evil  than  that  of  driving  the  proprietors  to  exactions 
which  made  them  odious  to  their  vassals.49  Such,  we  are  assured  by  a  Vene- 
tian envoy, — who,  with  great  powers  of  observation,  was  placed  in  the  best 
situation  for  exerting  them, — was  the  policy  of  Philip.  "  Thus,"  he  concludes, 
"  did  the  king  make  himself  feared  by  those  who,  if  they  had  managed  dis- 
creetly, might  have  made  themselves  feared  by  him." s* 

While  the  aristocracy  was  thus  depressed,  the  strong  arm  of  Charles  the 
Fifth  had  stripped  the  Castilian  commons  of  their  most  precious  rights.  Philip, 

"  Ranke,  Ottoman  and  Spanish  Empires,  prii  sudditi  onde  incorrono  nel  loro  odio." 

p.  57.  Kelazione  di  Contarini,  MS. 

*•  Relazione  dl  Tiepolo,  MS.— Relazione  *"  "Temono  Sua  Mar-sta,  dove,  qnando  si 

Anon.,  MS. — Relazione  di  Contarini,  MS.  governassero  prudentemente,  sarieno  da  essa 

4*  "Che  per  contrario  affligiono  t  loro  pro-  per  le  loro  forze  temuti."    Ibid. 


THE  CORTES.  659 

happily  for  himself,  was  spared  the  odium  of  having  reduced  them  to  this 
abject  condition.  But  he  was  as  careful  as  his  father  could  have  been  that 
they  should  not  rise  from  it.  The  legislative  power  of  the  commons,  that 
most  important  of  all  their  privileges,  was  nearly  annihilated.  The  Castilian 
cortes  were,  it  is  true,  frequently  convoked  under  Philip, — more  frequently, 
on  the  whole,  than  in  any  preceding  reign.  For  in  them  still  resided  the 
power  of  voting  supplies  for  the  crown.  To  have  summoned  them  so  often, 
therefore,  was  rather  a  proof  of  the  necessities  of  the  government  than  of 
respect  for  the  rights  of  the  commons. 

The  cortes,  it  is  true,  still  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  laying  their  grievances 
before  the  king  ;  but,  as  they  were  compelled  to  vote  the  supplies  before  they 
presented  their  grievances,  they  had  lost  the  only  lever  by  which  they  could 
effectually  operate  on  the  royal  will.  Yet  when  we  review  their  petitions,  and 
see  the  care  with  which  they  watched  over  the  interests  of  the  nation  and  the 
courage  with  which  they  maintained  them,  we  cannot  refuse  our  admiration. 
We  must  acknowledge  that  under  every  circumstance  of  discouragement  and 
oppression  the  old  Castilian  spirit  still  lingered  in  the  hearts  of  the  people. 
In  proof  of  this,  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  cite  a  few  of  these  petitions,  which, 
whether  successful  or  not,  may  serve  at  least  to  show  the  state  of  public 
opinion  on  the  topics  to  which  they  relate. 

One,  of  repeated  recurrence,  is  a  remonstrance  to  the  king  on  the  enormous 
expense  of  his  household, — "  as  great,"  say  the  cortes,  "  as  would  be  required 
for  the  conquest  of  a  kingdom.  sl  The  Burgundian  establishment,  indepen- 
dently of  its  costliness,  found  little  favour  with  the  honest  Castilian  ;  and  the 
cortes  prayed  his  majesty  to  abandon  it,  and  to  return  to  the  more  simple  and 
natural  usage  of  his  ancestors.  They  represented  "the  pernicious  effects 
which  this  manner  of  living  necessarily  had  on  the  great  nobles  and  others  of 
his  subjects,  prone  to  follow  the  example  of  their  master."  **  To  one  of  these 
petitions  Philip  replied  that  "  he  would  cause  the  matter  to  be  inquired  into, 
and  such  measures  to  be  taken  as  were  most  for  his  service."  No  alteration 
took  place  during  his  reign  ;  and  the  Burgundian  establishment,  which  in 
1562  involved  an  annual  charge  of  a  hundred  and  fifty- six  millions  of  mara- 
vedis,  was  continued  by  his  successor." 

Another  remonstrance  of  constant  recurrence — a  proof  of  its  inefficacy — was 
that  against  the  alienation  of  the  crown  lands  and  the  sale  of  offices  and  the 
lesser  titles  of  nobility.  To  this  the  king  made  answer  in  much  the  same 
equivocal  language  as  before.  Another  petition  besought  him  no  longer  to 
seek  an  increase  of  his  revenue  by  imposing  taxes  without  the  sanction  of  the 
cortes  required  by  the  ancient  law  and  usage  of  the  realm.  Philip's  reply  on 
this  occasion  was  plain  enough.  It  was.  in  truth,  one  worthy  of  an  Eastern 
despot  "  The  necessities,"  he  said,  "  which  have  compelled  me  to  resort  to 
these  measures,  far  from  having  ceased,  have  increased,  and  are  still  increasing, 
allowing  me  no  alternative  but  to  pursue  the  course  I  have  adopted."*4 
Philip's  embarrassments  were  indeed  great— far  beyond  the  reach  of  any  finan- 
cial skill  of  his  ministers  to  remove.  His  various  expedients  for  relieving 
himself  from  the  burden,  which,  as  he  truly  said,  was  becoming  heavier  every 
day,  form  a  curious  chapter  in  the  history  of  finance.  But  we  have  not  yet 
reached  the  period  at  wnich  they  can  be  most  effectively  presented  to  the 
reader. 

"  "  Que  bMtarfin  pnr«  conqulstnr  y  ganar  "  Lafurnte,  Hlstorla  de  Espafia,  torn.  xllL 

an   reyno."     Cortes  of  Valtadolid  of    1558,  p.  118. 

pet.  4.  ••  Ibid.,  torn.  xlv.  p.  397. 

"  CortM  of  Toledo  of  1559,  pet.  3. 


660  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

The  commons  strongly  urged  the  king  to  complete  the  great  work  he  had 
early  undertaken,  of  embodying  in  one  code  the  municipal  law  of  Castile." 
They  gave  careful  attention  to  the  administration  of  justice,  showed  their 
desire  tor  the  reform  of  various  abuses,  especially  for  quickening^  the  despatch 
of  business,  proverbially  slow  in  Spain,  and,  in  short,  for  relieving  suitors  as 
far  as  possible  from  the  manifold  vexations  to  which  they  were  daily  exposed 
in  the  tribunals.  With  a  wise  liberality,  they  recommended  that,  in  order  to 
secure  the  services  of  competent  persons  in  judicial  offices,  their  salaries — in 
many  cases  wholly  inadequate — should  be  greatly  increased.48 

The  cprtes  watched  with  a  truly  parentalcare  over  the  great  interests  of  the 
state, — its  commerce,  its  husbandry,  and  its  manufactures.  They  raised  a 
loud,  and,  as  it  would  seem,  not  an  ineffectual,  note  of  remonstrance  against 
the  tyrannical  practice  of  the  crown  in  seizing  for  its  own  use  the  bullion 
which,  as  elsewhere  stated,  had  been  imported  from  the  New  World  on  their 
own  account  by  the  merchants  of  Seville. 

Some  of  the  petitions  of  the  cortes  show  what  would  be  thought  at  the  pre- 
sent day  a  strange  ignorance  of  the  true  principles  of  legislation  in  respect  to 
commerce.  Thus,  regarding  gold  and  silver,  independently  of  their  value  as  a 
medium  of  exchange,  as  constituting  in  a  peculiar  manner  the  wealth  of  a 
country,  they  considered  that  the  true  policy  was  to  keep  the  precious  metals 
at  home,  and  prayed  that  their  exportation  might  be  forbidden.  Yet  this  was 
a  common  error  in  the  sixteenth  century  with  other  nations  besides  the 
Spaniards.  It  may  seem  singular,  however,  that  the  experience  of  three- 
fourths  of  a  century  had  not  satisfied  the  Castilian  of  the  futility  of  such 
attempts  to  obstruct  the  natural  current  of  commercial  circulation. 

In  the  same  spirit,  they  besought  the  king  to  prohibit  the  use  of  gold  and 
silver  in  plating  copper  and  other  substances,  as  well  as  for  wearing-apparel 
and  articles  of  household  luxury.  It  was  a  waste  of  the  precious  metals,  which 
were  needed  for  other  purposes.  This  petition  of  the  commons  may  be  referred 
in  part,  no  doubt,  to  their  fondness  for  sumptuary  laws,  which  in  Castile 
formed  a  more  ample  code  than  could  be  easily  found  in  any  other  country." 
The  love  of  costly  and  ostentatious  dress  was  a  passion  which  they  may  have 
caught  from  their  neighbours  the  Spanish  Arabs,  who  delighted  in  this  way  of 
displaying  their  opulence.  It  furnished,  accordingly,  from  an  early  period,  a 
fruitful  theme  of  declamation  to  the  clergy,  in  their  invectives  against  the 
pomp  and  vanities  of  the  world. 

Unfortunately,  Philip,  who  was  so  frequently  deaf  to  the  wiser  suggestions 
of  the  cortes,  gave  his  sanction  to  this  petition  ;  and  in  a  pragmatic  devoted 
to  the  object  he  carried  out  the  ideas  of  the  lesrislature  as  heartily  as  the  most 
austere  reformer  could  have  desired.  As  a  stnte  paper  it  has  certainly  a  novel 
aspect,  going  at  great  length  into  such  minute  specifications  of  wearing-apparel, 
both  male  and  female,  that  it  would  seem  to  have  been  devised  by  a  committee 
of  tailors  and  milliners  rather  than  of  grave  legislators.48  The  tailors,  indeed, 

"  Cortes  of  Valladolid  of  1558,  pet.  12.  sea,  no  pueda  traer  ni  traya  en  ropa  ni  en  ves- 

"  Lafuente,  Historia  de  Eepafia,  torn.  xill.  tido,  nt  en  oalzas,  ni  jubon,  ni  en  gnaldrapa, 

P-  125.  ni  guarnicion  de  mula  ni  de  cavallo,  ningun 

57  The  history  of  Insure  in  Castile,  and  of  genero  de  bordado  ni  recamado.  ni  gandujado, 

the  various  enactments  for  the  restraint  of  it,  ni  entorcbado,  ni  chaperia  de  oro  ni  de  plata, 

forms  the  subject  of  a  work  by  Sfmpere  y  ni  de  oro  de  cafiutillo,  ni  de  martillo.  ni  nin- 

Guarinos,  containing  many  curious  particu-  gun  genero  de  trenza  ni  cordon  ni  cordoncillo, 

lars.  especially  in   regard  to  the  life  of  the  ni  franja,  ni  pasamano,  ni  pespunte,  ni  perfll 

Oa«tilians  at  an  earlier  period  of  their  history.  de  oro  ni  plata  ni  seda,  ni  otra  cosa,  aunque 

Hi*to!iad;'l1,uxo(  Madrid,  1788, 2  torn.  12mo).  el  dlcho  oro  y  plata  sean  falsos,"  etc.     Prac- 

"  Anssi  misrno  mandamos  que  ninguna  matica  exped'ida  a  peticion  de  la  Cortes  de 

persona  de  ninguna  condicion  ni  calidad  que  Madrid  de  1563. 


THE  CORTES.  661 

the  authors  of  these  seductive  abominations,  did  not  escape  the  direct  animad- 
version of  the  cortes.  In  another  petition  they  were  denounced  as  unprofitable 
persons,  occupied  with  needle-work,  like  women,  instead  of  tilling  the  ground 
or  serving  his  majesty  in  the  wars,  like  men.49 

In  the  same  spirit  of  impertinent  legislation,  the  cortes  would  have  regu- 
lated the  expenses  of  the  table,  which,  they  said,  of  late  years  had  been  exces- 
sive. They  recommended  that  no  one  should  be  allowed  to  have  more  than 
four  dishes  of  meat  and  four  of  fruit  served  at  the  same  meal.  They  were 
further  scandalized  by  the  increasing  use  of  coaches,  a  mode  of  conveyance 
which  had  been  introduced  into  Spain  only  a  few  years  before.  They  regarded 
them  as  tempting  men  to  an  effeminate  indulgence  which  most  of  them  could 
ill  afford.  They  considered  the  practice,  moreover,  as  detrimental  to  the  good 
horsemanship  for  which  their  ancestors  had  been  so  renowned.  They  prayed, 
therefore,  that,  considering  "  the  nation  had  done  well  for  so  many  years 
without  the  use  of  coaches,  it  might  henceforth  be  prohibited."  *'  Philip  so 
far  complied  with  their  petition  as  to  forbid  any  one  but  the  owner  of  four 
horses  to  keep  a  coach.  Thus  he  imagined  that,  while  encouraging  the  raising 
of  horses,  he  should  effectually  discourage  any  but  the  more  wealthy  from 
affecting  this  costly  luxury. 

There  ,was  another  petition,  somewhat  remarkable,  and  worth  citing  as  it 
shows  the  attachment  of  the  Castilians  to  a"  national  institution  which  has 
often  incurred  the  censure  of  foreigners.  A  petition  of  the  cortes  of  1573 
prayed  that  some  direct  encouragement  might  be  given  to  bull-fights,  which 
of  fate  had  shown  symptoms  of  decline.  They  advised  that  the  principal 
towns  should  be  required  to  erect  additional  circuses,  and  to  provide  lances 
for  the  combatants  and  music  for  the  entertainments  at  the  charge  of  the 
municipalities.  They  insisted  on  this  as  important  for  mending  the  breed  of 
horses,  as  well  as  for  furnishing  a  chivalrous  exercise  for  the  nobles  and 
cavaliers.  This  may  excite  some  surprise  in  a  spectator  of  our  day,  accus- 
tomed to  see  only  the  most  wretched  hacks  led  to  the  slaughter  and  men  of 
humble  condition  skirmishing  in  the  arena.  It  was  otherwise  in  those  palmy 
days  of  chivalry,  when  the  horses  employed  were  of  a  generous  breed,  and  the 
oyubatants  were  nobles,  who  entered  the  lists  with  as  proud  a  feeling  as  that 
with  which  they  would  have  gone  to  a  tourney.  Even  so  late  as  the  sixteenth 
century  it  was  the  boast  of  Charles  the  Fifth  that,  when  a  young  man,  he  had 
fought  like  a  matador  and  killed  his  bull.  Philip  gave  his  assent  to  this 
petition  with  a  promptness  which  showed  that  he  understood  the  character  of 
his  countrymen. 

It  wonla  be  an  error  to  regard  the  more  exceptionable  and  frivolous  petitions 
of  the  cortes,  some  of  which  have  been  above  enumerated,  as  affording  a  true 
type  of  the  predominant  character  of  Castilian  legislation.  The  laws,  or,  to 
speak  correctly,  the  petitions,  of  that  body,  are  strongly  impressed  with  a  wise 
and  patriotic  sentiment,  showing  a  keen  perception  of  the  wants  of  the 
community  and  a  tender  anxiety  to  relieve  them.  Thus,  we  find  the  cortes 
recommending  that  guardians  should  l>e  appointed  to  find  employment  for 
such  young  and  destitute  persons  as,  without  friends  to  aid  them,  had  no 
means  of  getting  a  livelihood  for  themselves.61  They  propose  to  have  victors 
chosen,  whose  duty  it  should  be  to  inspect  the  prisons  every  week  and  see  that 

**  "  Ocnpadog  en  e«te  oflclo  y  genero  de  vi-  of  1.173,  pet.  75,  ap.  Lafuente,  Hist,  de  Es- 

vienda  de  coaer,  que  habia  de  MT  para  laa  pafia,  torn.  xlv.  p.  407. 

miiK  fen,  mucbos  bombres  qne  podrian  servlr  '"  Ibid.,  p.  408. 

fi  S.  M.  en  la  gnem  drjabun  de  ir  a  ella,  y  "  Kauke,  Ottoman  and  Spanish  EmpIrM, 

J -j.iljun  tamlilendelabrarlcxicrtmpo*."  Cortes  p.  69. 


662  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

fitting  arrangements  were  made  for  securing  the  health  and  cleanliness  of  the 
inmates.82  They  desire  that  care  should  be  taken  to  have  suitable  accommo- 
dations provided  at  the  inns  for  travellers.6*  With  their  usual  fondness  for 
domestic  inquisition,  they  take  notice  of  the  behaviour  of  servants  to  their 
masters,  ana,  with  a  simplicity  that  may  well  excite  a  smile,  they  .animadvert 
on  the  conduct  of  maidens  who,  "  in  the  absence  of  their  mothers,  spend  their 
idle  hours  in  reading  romances  full  of  lies  and  vanities,  which  they  receive  as 
truths  for  the  government  of  their  own  conduct  in  their  intercourse  with  the 
world."  "  The  books  thus  stigmatized  were  doubtless  the  romances  of  chivalry, 
which  at  this  period  were  at  the  height  of  their  popularity  in  Castile.  Cer- 
vantes had  not  yet  aimed  at  this  pestilent  literature  those  shafts  of  ridicule 
which  did  more  than  any  legislation  could  have  done  towards  driving  it  from 
the  land. 

The  commons  watched  over  the  business  of  education  as  zealously  as  over 
any  of  the  material  interests  of  the  state.  They  inspected  the  condition  of 
the  higher  seminaries,  and  would  have  provision  made  for  the  foundation  of 
new  chairs  in  the  universities.  In  accordance  with  their  views,  though  not  in 
conformity  to  any  positive  suggestion,  Phiiip  published  a  pragmatic  in  respect 
to  these  institutions.  He  complained  of  the  practice,  rapidly  increasing 
among  his  subjects,  of  going  abroad  to  get  their  education,  when  the  most 
ample  provision  was  made  for  it  at  home.  The  effect  was  eminently  disastrous ; 
for,  while  the  Castilian  universities  languished  for  want  of  patronage,  the 
student  who  went  abroad  was  pretty  sure  to  return  with  ideas  not  the  best 
suited  to  his  own  country.  The  king,  therefore,  prohibited  Spaniards  from 
going  to  any  university  out  of  his  dominions,  and  required  all  now  abroad  to 
return.  This  edict  he  accompanied  with  the  severe  penalty  of  forfeiture  of 
their  secular  possessions  for  ecclesiastics,  and  of  banishment  and  confiscation 
of  property  for  laymen.65 

This  kind  of  pragmatic,  though  made  doubtless  in  accordance  with  the 
popular  feeling,  inferred  a  stretch  of  arbitrary  power  that  cannot  be  charged 
on  those  which  emanated  directly  from  the  suggestion  of  the  legislature.  In 
this  respect,  however,  it  fell  far  short  of  those  ordinances  which  proceeded 
exclusively  from  the  royal  will,  without  reference  to  the  wishes  of  the  common?. 
Such  ordinances — and  they  were  probably  more  numerous  than  any  other  cla?s 
of  laws  during  this  reign — are  doubtless  among  the  most  arbitrary  acts  of 
which  a  monarch  can  be  guilty  ;  for  they  imply  nothing  less  than  an  assump- 
tion of  the  law-making  power  into  his  own  hands,  .r  Indeed,  they  met  with  a 
strong  remonstrance  in  the  year  1579,  when  Philip  was  besought  by  the 
commons  not  to  make  any  laws  but  such  as  had  first  received  the  sanction  of 
the  cortes.6'  Yet  Philip  might  vindicate  himself  by  the  example  of  his  pre- 
decessors,—even  of  those  who,  like  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  haa  most  at  heart 
the  interests  of  the  nation.67 

••  "Qne  cada  semana  6  cada  mes  se  nom-  acnntescido.  ansi  de  amores  como  de  arraas  y 

bren  en  los  ayuntamientos  de  cada  ciudad  6  otras  vanidades :    y  afficionados,   quando  se 

villa  destos  Reynos,  dos  Regidores,  los  quales  offrece  algnn  c-so  semejante,  danse  &  el  masii 

se  hallen  ;i  la  vision  y  visitas  de  la  carcel."  rienda  swlta  que  si  no  lo  huviessen  leydo." 

Cortes  of  Toledo  of  1559,  1560,  pet.  102.  Cortes  of  1558,  pet.  107,  cited  by  Ranke,  Otto- 

•"  Provision  real  para  que  los  mesones  del  man  and  Spanish  Empires,-p.  60. 

reyno  esten  bien  proveidoe  de  los  mant  nimi-  "  Pracmatica  para  que  ningun  natural  de 

entos  necesarios  para  los  caminantes,  Toledo,  estos  reynos  vaya  a  estudiar  fuera  de  ellos, 

20  de  Octubre  de  1560.  Aranjuez,  22  de  Noviembre  de  1559. 

'  '•  Como  los  mancebos  y  las  donzellas  por  •"  Marina,  Teoria  de  las  Cort  8,  torn.   ii. 

sii  ociosidad  se    principalmente    ocupan   en  p.  219. 

aquello  [leer  libros  de  mentiras  y  vanidades],  •'  See  the  "Pragtnaticas  del  Reyno,"  first 

desvanecense  y  aficionanne  en  cicrta  manera  printed  at  Alcala  de  Henares,  at  the  clow  of 

d  los  ca?c*  qua  letn  en  aquellos  libros  haver  Isabella's  reign,  in  1503.    This  famous  collec- 


THE  COETES.  663 

It  must  be  further  admitted  that  the  more  regular  mode  of  proceeding,  with 
the  co-operation  of  the  cortes,  had  in  it  much  to  warrant  the  idea  that  the  real 
right  of  legislation  was  vested  in  the  king.  A  petition,  usually  couched  in  the 
most  .humble  terms,  prayed  his  majesty  to  give  his  assent  to  the  law  proposed. 
This  he  did  in  a  few  words  ;  or,  what  was  much  more  common,  he  refused  to 
give  it,  declaring  that  in  the  existing  case  "  it  was  not  expedient  that  any 
change  should  be  made."  It  was  observed  that  the  number  of  cases  in  which 
Philip  rejected  the  petitions  of  the  commons  was  much  greater  than  had  been 
usual  with  former  sovereigns. 

A  more  frequent  practice  with  Philip  was  one  that  better  suited  his  hesi- 
tating nature  and  habit  of  procrastination.  H«  replied,  in  ambiguous  terms, 
that  "  he  would  take  the  matter  into  consideration,"  or  "  that  he  would  lay  it 
before  his  council  and  take  such  measures  as  would  be  best  for  his  service." 
Thus  the  cortes  adjourned  in  ignorance  of  the  fate  of  their  petitions.  Even 
when  he  announced  his  assent,  as  it  was  left  to  him  to  prescribe  the  terms  of 
the  law,  it  might  be  more  or  less  comformable  to  those  of  the  petition.  The 
cortes  having  been  dismissed,  there  was  no  redress  to  be  obtained  if  the  law 
did  not  express  their  views,  nor  could  any  remonstrance  be  presented  by  that 
body  until  their  next  session,  usually  three  years  later.  The  practice  esta- 
blished by  Charles  the.  Fifth,  of  postponing  the  presenting  of  petitions  till  the 
supplies  had  been  voted,  and  the  immediate  adjournment  of  the  legislature 
afterwards,  secured  an  absolute  authority  to  the  princes  of  the  house  of 
Austria,  that  made  a  fearful  change  in  the  ancient  constitution  of  Castile. 

Yet  the  meetings  of  the  cortes,  shorn  as  that  body  was  of  its  ancient  privi- 
leges, were  not  without  important  benefits  to  the  nation.  None  could  be  better 
acquainted  than  the  deputies  with  the  actual  wants  and  wishes  of  their  con- 
stituents. It  was  a  manifest  advantage  for  the  king  to  receive  this  informa- 
tion. It  enabled  him  to  take  the  course  best  suited  to  the  interests  of  the 
people,  to  which  he  would  naturally  be  inclined  when  he  did  not  regard  them 
as  conflicting  with  his  own.  Even  when  he  did,  the  strenuous  support  of  their 
own  views  by  the  commons  might  compel  him  to  modify  his  measures.  How- 
ever absolute  the  monarch,  he  would  naturally  shrink  from  pursuing  a  policy 
so  odious  to  the  people  that,  if  persevered  in,  it  might  convert  remonstrance 
into  downright  resistance. 

The  freedom  of  discussion  among  the  deputies  is  attested  by  the  independent 
tone  with  which  in  their  petitions  they  denounce  the  manifold  abuses  in  the 
state.  It  is  honourable  to  Philip  that  he  should  not  have  attempted  to  stifle 
this  freedom  of  debate ;  though  perlmps  this  may  be  more  correctly  referred 
to  his  policy,  which  made  him  willing  to  leave  this  safety-valve  open  for  the 
passions  of  the  people.  He  may  have  been  content  to  natter  them  with  the 
image  of  power,  conscious  that  he  alone  retained  the  substance  of  it.  However 
this  may  nave  been,  the  good  effect  of  the  exercise  of  these  rights,  imperfect 
as  they  were,  by  the  third  estate,  must  be  highly  estimated.  The  fact  of 
beinjj  called  together  to  consult  on  public  affairs  gave  the  people  a  considera- 
tion in  their  own  eyes  which  raised  them  far  above  the  abject  condition  of  the 
subjects  of  an  Eastern  despotism.  It  cherished  in  them  that  love  of  inde- 
pendence which  was  their  birthright,  inherited  from  their  ancestors,  and  thus 
maintained  in  their  bosoms  those  lofty  sentiments  which  were  the  character- 
istics of  the  humbler  classes  of  the  Spaniards  beyond  those  of  any  other  natu  n 
in  Christendom. 

tlon  WM  almost  wholly  made  up  of  the  ordl-       absorbed  in  the  "  Nuevt  Recopilacion  "  of 
nancta  of    Ferdinand    and    Isabella      After        Philip  the  S«cond. 
pMtngthiougbk«vcral  •<!  it  lous.lt  wa»  Dually 


664  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

One  feature  was  wanting  to  complete  the  picture  of  absolute  monarchy. 
This  was  a  standing  army, — a  thing  hitherto  unknown  in  Spain.  There  was, 
indeed,  an  immense  force  kept  on  foot  in  the  time  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  and 
many  of  the  troops  were  Spaniards.  But  they  were  stationed  abroad,  and 
were  intended  solely  for  foreign  enterprises.  It  is  to  Philii)'s  time  that  we  are 
to  refer  the  first  germs  of  a  permanent  military  establishment,  designed  to 
maintain  order  and  obedience  at  home. 

The  levies  raised  for  this  purpose  amounted  to  twenty  companies  of  men-at- 
arms,  which,  with  the  complement  of  four  or  five  followers  to  each  lance,  made 
a  force  of  some  strength.  It  was  further  swelled  by  five  thousand  ginetes,  or 
light  cavalry.8*  These  corps  were  a  heavy  charge  on  the  crown.  They  were 
called  "  the  Guards  of  Castile."  The  men-at-arms,  in  particular,  were  an  object 
of  great  care,  and  were  under  admirable  discipline.  Even  Philip,  who  had 
little  relish  for  military  affairs,  was  in  the  habit  of  occasionally  reviewing  them 
in  person.  In  addition  to  these  troops  there  was  a  body  of  thirty  thousand 
militia,  whom  the  king  could  call  into  the  field  when  necessary.  A  corps  of 
some  sixteen  hundred  horsemen  patrolled  the  southern  coasts  of  Andalusia,  to 
guard  the  country  from  invasion  by  the  African  Moslems  ;  and  garrisons  esta- 
blished in  fortresses  along  the  frontiers  of  Spain,  both  north  and  south,  com- 
pleted a  permanent  force  for  the  defence  of  the  kingdom  against  domestic 
insurrection,  as  well  as  foreign  invasion. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF   SPAIN. 
The  Clergy — Their  Subordination  to  the  Crown — The  Escorial— Queen  Anne. 

A  REVIEW  of  the  polity  of  Castile  would  be  incomplete  without  a  notice  of  the 
ecclesiastical  order,  which  may  well  be  supposed  to  have  stood  pre-eminent  in 
such  a  country  and  under  such  a  monarch  as  Philip  the  Second.  Indeed,  not 
only  did  that  prince  present  himself  before  the  world  as  the  great  champion  of 
the  Faith,  but  he  seemed  ever  solicitous  in  private  life  to  display  his  zeal  for 
religion  and  its  ministers.  Many  anecdotes  are  told  of  him  in  connection  with 
this.  On  one  occasion,  seeing  a  young  girl  going  within  the  railing  of  the 
altar,  he  rebuked  her,  saying,  "  Where  the  priest  enters  is  no  place  either  for 
me  or  you."1  A  cavalier  who  had  given  a  blow  to  a  canon  of  Toledo  he 
sentenced  to  death.4 

Under  his  protection  and  princely  patronage,  the  Church  reached  its  most 
palmy  state.  Colleges  and  convents — in  short,  religious  institutions  of  every 
kind-  were  scattered  broadcast  over  the  land.  The  good  fathers  loved  pleasant 
and  picturesque  sites  for  their  dwellings  ;  and  the  traveller,  as  he  journeyed 
through  the  country,  was  surprised  by  the  number  of  stately  edifices  which 
crowned  the  hill-tops  or  rested  on  their  slopes,  surrounded  by  territories  that 
spread  out  for  many  a  league  over  meadows  and  cultivated  fields  and  pasture- 
land. 

The  secular  clergy,  at  least  the  higher  dignitaries,  were  so  well  endowed  as 
sometimes  to  eclipse  the  grandees  in  the  pomp  of  their  establishments.  In  the 

"  Relazlone  dl  Contarini,  MS.  p.  96. 

1  "  Vos  ni  yo  no  avemos  de  nubir  donde  los  *  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo.  p.  894. 

SacerdoUw."    Pichos  y  Heches  de  Phellpe  II., 


THE  CLERGY.  665 

time  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  the  archbishop  of  Toledo  held  jurisdiction  over 
fifteen  principal  towns  and  a  great  number  of  villages.  His  income  amounted 
to  full  eighty  thousand  ducats  a  year.*  In  Philip's  time  the  income  of  the 
archbishop  of  Seville  amounted  to  the  same  sum,  while  that  of  the  see  of 
Toledo  had  risen  to  two  hundred  thousand  ducats,  nearly  twice  as  much  as 
that  of  the  richest  grandee  in  the  kingdom.4  In  power  and  opulence  the 
primate  of  Spain  ranked  next  in  Christendom  to  the  pope. 

The  great  source  of  all  this  wealth  of  the  ecclesiastical  order  in  Castile,  as  in 
most  other  countries,  was  the  benefactions  and  bequests  of  the  pious, — of  those, 
more  especially,  whose  piety  had  been  deferred  till  the  close  of  life,  when, 
anxious  to  make  amends  for  past  delinquencies,  they  bestowed  the  more  freely 
that  it  was  at  the  expense  of  their  heirs.  As  what  was  thus  bequeathed  was 
locked  up  by  entail,  the  constantly  accumulating  property  of  the  Church  had 
amounted  in  Philip's  time,  if  we  may  take  the  assertion  of  the  cortes,  to  more 
than  one-half  of  the  landed  property  in  the  kingdom.*  Thus  the  burden  of 
providing  for  the  expenses  of  the  state  fell  with  increased  heaviness  on  the 
commons.  Alienations  in  mortmain  formed  the  subject  of  one  of  their  earliest 
remonstrances  after  Philip's  accession,  but  without  effect ;  and,  though  the 
same  petition  was  urged  in  very  plain  language  at  almost  every  succeeding 
session,  the  king  still  answered  that  it  was  not  expedient  to  make  any  change 
in  the  existing  laws.  Besides  his  good  will  to  the  ecclesiastical  order,  Philip 
was  occupied  with  the  costly  construction  of  the  Escorial ;  and  he  had  probably 
no  mind  to  see  the  streams  of  public  bounty,  which  had  hitherto  flowed  so 
freely  into  the  reservoirs  of  the  Church,  thus  suddenly  obstructed,  when  they 
were  so  much  needed  for  his  own  infant  institution. 

While  Philip  was  thus  willing  to  exalt  the  religious  order,  already  far  too 
powerful,  he  was  careful  that  it  should  never  gain  such  a  height  as  would 
enable  it  to  overtop  the  royal  authority.  Both  in  the  Church  and  in  the 
council, — for  they  were  freely  introduced  into  the  councils, — theologians  were 
ever  found  the  most  devoted  servants  of  the  crown.  Indeed,  it  was  on  the 
crown  that  they  were  obliged  to  rest  all  their  hopes  of  preferment. 

Philip  perfectly  understood  that  the  control  of  the  clergy  must  be  lodged 
with  that  power  which  had  the  right  of  nomination  to  benefices.  The  Roman 
see,  in  its  usual  spirit  of  encroachment,  had  long  claimed  the  exercise  of  this 
right  in  Castile,  as  it  had  done  in  other  Euroj>ean  states.  The  great  battle 
with  the  Church  was  fought  in  the  time  of  Isabella  the  Catholic.  Fortunately, 
the  sceptre  was  held  by  a  sovereign  whose  loyalty  to  the  Faith  was  beyond 
suspicion.  From  this  hard  struggle  she  came  off  victorious  ;  and  the  govern- 
ment of  Castile  henceforth  retained  possession  of  the  important  prerogative  of 
appointing  to  vacant  benefices. 

Philip,  with  all  his  deference  to  Rome,  was  not  a  man  to  relinquish  any  of 
the  prerogatives  of  the  crown.  A  difficulty  arose  under  Pius  the  Fifth,  who 
contended  that  he  still  had  the  right,  possessed  by  former  pones,  of  nominating 
to  ecclesiastical  offices  in  Milan,  Naples,  and  Sicily,  the  Italian  possessions 
held  by  Spain.  He  complained  bitterly  of  the  conduct  of  the  councils  in  those 
states,  which  refused  to  allow  the  publication  of  his  bulls  without  the  royal 
exequatur.  Philip,  in  mild  terms,  expressed  his  desire  to  maintain  the  most 
amicable  relations  with  the  see  of  Rome,  provided  he  was  not  required  to 
compromise  the  interests  of  his  crown.  At  the  same  time  he  intimated  his 
surprise  that  his  holiness  should  take  exceptions  at  his  exercise  of  the  rights 

•    L.  Marlneo  Siculo,  Co«u  memorable*,  '  Lafuente,  III  :torta  de  EapaOa,  torn.  zlv. 

fol.  23.  p.  418. 

4  Not*  dl  tuttl  U  Titolat i  dl  Sp.igna,  MS. 


666  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

of  his  predecessors,  to  many  of  whom  the  Church  was  indebted  for  the  most 
signal  services.  The  pope  was  well  aware  of  the  importance  of  maintaining 
a  good  understanding  with  so  devoted  a  son  of  the  Church ;  and  Philip  was 
allowed  to  remain  henceforth  in  undisturbed  possession  of  this  inestimable 
prerogative.' 

The  powers  thus  vested  in  the  king  he  exercised  with  great  discretion.  With 
his  usual  facilities  for  information,  he  made  himself  acquainted  with  the 
characters  of  the  clergy  in  the  different  parts  of  his  dominions.  He  was  so 
accurate  in  his  knowledge  that  he  was  frequently  able  to  detect  an  error  or 
omission  in  the  information  he  received.  To  one  who  had  been  giving  him  an 
account  of  a  certain  ecclesiastic,  he  remarked,  "  You  have  told  me  nothing  of 
his  amours."  Thus  perfectly  apprised  of  the  characters  of  the  candidates,  he 
was  prepared,  whenever  a  vacancy  occurred,  to  till  the  place  with  a  suitable 
incumbent.7 

It  was  his  habit,  before  preferring  an  individual  to  a  high  office,  to  have 
proof  of  his  powers  by  trying  them  first  in  some  subordinate  station.  In  his 
selection  he  laid  much  stress  on  rank,  for  the  influence  it  carried  with  it.  Yet 
frequently,  when  well  satisfied  of  the  merits  of  the  parties,  he  promoted  those 
whose  humble  condition  had  made  them  little  prepared  for  such  an  elevation.8 
There  was  no  more  effectual  way  to  secure  his  favour  than  to  show  a  steady 
resistance  to  the  usurpations  of  Rome.  It  was  owing,  in  part  at  least,  to  the 
refusal  of  Quiroga,  the  bishop  of  Cuemja,  to  publish  a  papal  bull  without  the 
royal  assent,  that  he  was  raised  to  the  highest  dignity  in  the  kingdom,  as 
archbishop  of  Toledo.  Philip  chose  to  have  a  suitable  acknowledgment  from 
the  person  on  whom  he  conferred  a  favour ;  and  once  when  an  ecclesiastic, 
whom  he  had  made  a  bishop,  went  to  take  possession  of  his  see  without  first 
expressing  his  gratitude,  the  king  sent  for  him  back,  to  remind  him  of  his 
duty.9  Such  an  acknowledgment  was  in  the  nature  of  a  homage  rendered  to 
his  master  on  his  preferment. 

Thus,  gratitude  for  the  past  and  hopes  for  the  future  were  the  strong  ties 
which  bound  every  prelate  to  his  sovereign.  In  a  difference  with  the  Roman 
see,  the  Castilian  churchman  was  sure  to  be  found  on  the  side  of  the  sovereign 
rather  than  on  that  of  the  pontiff.  In  his  own  troubles,  in  like  manner,  it 
was  to  the  king,  and  not  to  the  pope,  that  he  was  to  turn  for  relief.  The 
king,  on  the  other  hand,  when  pressed  by  those  embarrassments  with  which 
he  was  too  often  surrounded,  looked  for  aid  to  the  clergy,  who  for  the  most 
part  rendered  it  cheerfully  and  in  liberal  measure.  Nowhere  were  the  clergy 
so  heavily  burdened  as  in  Spain.1*  It  wa?  computed  that  at  least  one-third  of 
their  revenues  was  given  to  the  king.  Thus  completely  were  the  different 
orders,  both  spiritual  and  temporal,  throughout  the  monarchy,  under  the 
control  of  the  sovereign. 

A  few  pages  back,  while  touching  on  alienations  in  mortmain,  I  had  occa- 
sion to  allude  to  the  Escorial,  that  "  eighth  wonder  of  the  world,"  as  it  is 
proudly  styled  by  the  Spaniards.  There  can  be  no  place  more  proper  to  give 
an  account  of  this  extraordinary  edifice  than  the  part  of  the  narrative  in 
which  I  have  been  desirous  to  throw  as  much  light  as  possible  on  the  character 

•  Lafuente,  Historia  de  Kspafia,  torn.  xlil.        que  la  cedula  de  su  presentacion  no  admitia  au 
p.  261  .—Cabrera,  Filipe  Sogundo,  pp.  432  433.        rezelo  de  s-r  enganados  6  burlados.     Eligia  si 

7  Cabrera,  Filipe  Segundo,  lib.  xi.  cap.  11  ;  quien  no  pedia,  i  merecia."    Cabrera,  Filipj 

lib.  xii.  cap.  21.— Relazicme  Amm.,  15H«,  MS.  Segundo,  p.  891. 

•  "Otras   vezes    presentuba    para   Obispos  *  Cabrera,  Filipe  S^gundo,  lib.  x;.  cnp.  11. 
Canonigos  tan  particulares  i  presbiteros  tan  '•   Relazione    di    Contariui,    MS — Ranke, 
ap'irtados  no  solo  de  tal  esperanca,  mas  pensa-  Ottoman  and  Spanish  Empires,  p.  61. 
miento  en  si  roi-mos,  1  CD  la  comuu  opinl  >n, 


THE  ESCORIAL.  667 

and  occupations  of  Philip.  The  Escorial  engrossed  the  leisure  of  more  than 
thirty  years  of  his  life ;  it  reflects  in  a  peculiar  manner  his  tastes  and  the 
austere  character  of  his  mind ;  and,  whatever  criticism  may  be  passed  on  it  as 
a  work  of  art,  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  if  every  other  ve-tige  of  his  reign  were 
to  be  swept  away,  that  wonderful  structure  would  of  itself  suffice  to  snow  the 
grandeur  of  his  plans  and  the  extent  of  his  resources. 

The  common  tradition  that  Philip  built  the  Escorial  in  pursuance  of  a  vow 
which  he  made  at  the  time  of  the  great  battle  of  St.  Quentin,  the  tenth  of 
August,  1557,  has  been  rejected  by  modern  critics,  on  the  ground  that  con^ 
temporary  writers,  and  among  them  the  historians  of  the  convent,  make  no 
mention  of  the  fact.  But  a  recently  discovered  document  leaves  little  doubt 
that  such  a  vow  was  actually  made.11  However  this  may  have  been,  it  is 
certain  that  the  king  designed  to  commemorate  the  event  by  this  structure,  as 
is  intimated  by  its  dedication  to  St.  Lawrence,  the  marty?  on  whose  day  the 
victory  was  gained.  The  name  given  to  the  place  was  El  Sitio  de  San  Lorenzo 
el  Reed.  But  the  monastery  was  better  known  from  the  hamlet  near  which  it 
stood, — El  Escurial,  or  El  Escorial, — which  latter  soon  became  the  ortho- 


graphy generally  adopted  by  the  Castilians.1* 
The  motives  which,  after  all, 


,  operated  probably  most  powerfully  on  Philip, 

had  no  connection  with  the  battle  of  St.  Quentin.  His  father  the  empercr 
had  directed  by  his  will  that  his  bones  should  remain  at  Yuste  until  a  more 
suitable  place  should  be  provided  for  them  by  his  son.  The  building  now  to 
be  erected  was  designed  expressly  as  a  mausoleum  for  Philip's  parents,  as 
well  as  for  their  descendants  of  the  royal  line  of  Austria.  But  the  erection  of 
a  religious  house  on  a  magnificent  scale,  that  would  proclaim  to  the  world  his 
devotion  to  the  Faith,  was  the  predominant  idea  in  the  mind  of  Philip.  It 
was,  moreover,  a  part  of  his  scheme  to  combine  in  the  plan  a  palace  for  him- 
self ;  for,  with  a  taste  which  he  may  be  said  to  have  inherited  from  his  father, 
he  loved  to  live  in  the  sacred  shadows  of  the  cloister.  The-e  ideas,  somewhat 
incongruous  as  they  may  seem,  were  fully  carried  out  by  the  erection  of  an 
edifice  dedicated  at  once  to  the  threefold  purpose  of  a  palace,  a  monastery,  and 
a  tomb.11 

Soon  after  the  king's  return  to  Spain,  he  set  about  carrying  his  plan  into 
execution.  The  site  which,  after  careful  examination,  he  selected  for  the 
building,  was  among  the  mountains  of  the  Guadarrama,  on  the  borders  of 
New  Castile,"  about  eight  leagues  north-west  of  Madrid.  The  healthiness  of 
the  place  and  its  convenient  distance  from  the  capital  combined  with  the 
stern  and  solitary  character  of  the  region,  so  congenial  to  his  taste,  to  give  it 
the  preference  over  other  spots  which  might  have  found  more  favour  with 
persons  of  a  different  nature.  Encompassed  by  rude  and  rocky  hills,  which 

11  The  document  alluded   to  is   a    letter,  seems  to  have  been  also  the  more  common 

without  date  or  signature,  but  In  the  ha  d-  from  the  first.    The  word   is  derived  from 

writing  ol  the  sixteenth  century,  and  purport-  troritr,  the  dross  of  iron-niinesi  found  near  the 

ing  t-i  be  written  by  a  person  intrust  d  with  spot.     See   Ford,   Handbook   for  Spain   (3rd 

the  task  of  drafting  the  necessary  legal  In-  edition),  p.  75 1. 

etruments  for  the  foundation  of  the  convent.  "  A  letter  of  the  royal  founder,  published 

He  inquires  whether  in  the  preamble  he  shall  by  Siguenca,  enumerates  the  objects  to  which 

make  mention  of  his  majesty's  vow.    "El  the  new  building  was  to  be  specia'ly  devoted. 

toto  que  S.  M.  hijn,  A  .8.  M.  no  lo  qulere  po-  HUtoria  de  la  Orden  de  San  Geronimo,  torn, 

ner  nl  declarer,  bien  puede,  porque  no  hay  iii.  p.  534. 

para  que;  pero  si  8.  M.  quUiere  que  se  de-  '•  "The  Encorial   \»  placed  by  some  geo- 

clare  en   las   escrituras,  avfxemelo    r.    m."  graphers  in  Old  Castile ;   but  the  division  of 

Documentor  Inediios,  torn,  xxvili.  p.  667.  the  province*  Is  carried  on  the  crest  of  the 

"  Examples  equally  ancient  of  l*>tb  forms  Sierra  which  rises  behind  it."    Ford,  Hand- 

of  spelling  the  name  may  be  found :  though  book  for  Spain,  p.  570. 
l,  now   universal    In    the   Castllian, 


668  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

sometimes  soar  to  the  gigantic  elevation  of  mountains,  it  seemed  to  be  shut 
out  completely  from  the  world.  The  vegetation  was  of  a  thin  and  stunted 
growth,  seldom  spreading  out  into  the  luxuriant  foliage  of  the  lower  regions ; 
and  the  winds  swept  down  from  the  neighbouring  sierra  with  the  violence  of  a 
hurricane.  Yet  the  air  was  salubrious,  and  the  soil  was  nourished  by  springs 
of  the  purest  water.  To  add  to  its  recommendations,  a  quarry,  close  at  hand, 
of  excellent  stone  somewhat  resembling  granite  in  appearance,  readily  supplied 
the  materials  for  building, — a  circumstance,  considering  the  vastuess  of  the 
work,  of  no  little  importance. 

The  architect  who  furnished  the  plans,  and  on  whom  the  kinjj  relied  for 
superintending  their  execution,  was  Juan  Bautista  de  Toledo.  He  was  born 
in  Spain,  and,  early  discovering  uncommon  talents  for  his  profession,  was  sent 
to  Italy.  Here  he^  studied  the  principles  of  his  art,  under  the  great  masters 
who  were  then  filling  their  native  land  with  those  monuments  of  genius  that 
furnished  the  best  study  to  the  artist.  Toledo  imbibed  their  spirit,  and  under 
their-  tuition  acquired  that  simple,  indeed  severe,  taste  which  formed  a  con- 
trast to  the  prevalent  tone  of  Spanish  architecture,  but  which,  happily,  found 
favour  with  his  royal  patron. 

Before  a  stone  of  the  new  edifice  was  laid,  Philip  had  taken  care  to  provide 
himself  with  the  tenants  who  were  to  occupy  it.  At  a  general  chapter  of  the 
Jeronymite  fraternity,  a  prior  was  chosen  for  the  convent  of  the  Escorial* 
which  was  to  consist  of  fifty  members,  soon  increased  to  double  that  number. 
Philip  had  been  induced  to  give  the  preference  to  the  Jeronymite  order, 
partly  from  their  general  reputation  for  ascetic  piety,  and  in  part  from  the 
regard  shown  for  them  by  his  father,  who  had  chosen  a  convent  of  that  order 
as  the  place  of  his  last  retreat.  The  monks  were  speedily  transferred  to  the 
village  of  the  Escorial,where  they  continued  to  dwell  until  accommodations  were 
prepared  for  them  in  the  magnificent  pile  which  they  were  thenceforth  to 
occupy. 

Their  temporary  habitation  was  of  the  meanest  kind,  like  most  of  the 
buildings  in  the  hamlet.  It  was  without  window  or  chimney,  and  the  rain 
found  its  way  through  the  dilapidated  roof  of  the  apartment  which  they  used 
as  a  chapel,  so  that  they  were  obliged  to  protect  themselves  bv  a  coverlet 
stretched  above  their  heads.  A  rude  altar  was  raised  at  one  end  of  the  chapel, 
over  which  was  scrawled  on  the  wall  with  charcoal  the  figure  of  a  crucifix." 

The  king,  on  his  visits  to  the  place,  was  lodged  in  the  house  of  the  curate, 
in  not  much  better  repair  than  the  other  dwellings  in  the  hamlet.  While, 
there  he  was  punctual  in  his  attendance  at  mass,  when  a  rude  seat  was 
prepared  for  him  near  the  choir,  consisting  of  a  three-legged  stool,  defended 
from  vulgar  eyes  by  a  screen  of  such  old  and  tattered  cloth  that  the  inquisitive 
spectator  might  without  difficulty  see  him  through  the  holes  in  it.18  He  was 
so  near  the  choir  that  the  monk  who  stood  next  to  him  could  hardly  avoid 
being  brought  into  contact  with  the  royal  person.  The  Jeronymite  who  tells 
the  story  assures  us  that  Brother  Antonio  used  to  weep  as  he  declared  that 
more  than  once,  when  he  cast  a  furtive  glance  at  the  monarch,  he  saw  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  Such,"  says  the  good  father,  "  were  the  devout  and 
joyful  feelings  with  which  the  king,  as  he  gazed  on  the  poverty  around  him, 

15  Siguen£a,  Hist,  de  la  Orden  de  San  Gero-  decencia  se  le  ponia  un  pafio  viejo  francos  de 

nirni),  torn.   iii.  p.  549. — Memories  de   Fray  Almaguer  el  contador,  que  ya  de  gastado  y 

Juan  de  San  Geronimo,  Documentos  ineditos,  desliiladu  bacia  hano  lugar  por  sns  agujeros  & 

toin.  vii.  p.  22.  los  que  querian  ver  a  la  Persona  Real."     Me- 

'*  "Tenia  de  ordinario  una  banqnetilla  de  morias  de  Fray  Juan  de  San  Ueronimo,  Docu- 

tres  pics,   basti'sima  y  grosera,  ror  silla,  y  mentos  ineditos,  torn.  vii.  p.  22. 
cuaudo  Iba  i.  misa  porque  estuvicse  con  ilgun 


THE  ESCORIAL.  669 

meditated  his  lofty  p'ans  for  converting  this  poverty  into  a  scene  of  grandeur 
more  worthy  of  the  worship  to  be  performed  there." 11 

The  brethren  were  much  edified  by  the  humility  shown  by  Philip  when 
attending  the  services  in  this  wretched  cabin.  They  often  told  the  story  of 
his  one  day  coming  late  to  matins,  when,  unwilling  to  interrupt  the  services, 
he  quietly  took  his  seat  by  the  entrance,  on  a  rude  bench,  at  the  upper  end  of 
which  a  peasant  was  sitting.  He  remained  some  time  before  his  presence 
was  observed,  when  the  monks  conducted  him  to  his  tribune.18 

On  the  twenty-third  of  April,  1563,  the  first  stone  of  the  monastery  was 
kid.  On  the  twentieth  of  August  following,  the  corner-stone  of  the  church 
was  also  laid,  with  still  greater  pomp  and  solemnity.  The  royal  confessor,  the 
bishop  of  Cuenca,  arrayed  in  nis  pontificals,  presided  over  the  ceremonies. 
The  king  was  present,  and  laid  the  stone  with  his  own  hands.  The  principal 
nobles  of  the  court  were  in  attendance,  and  there  was  a  great  concourse  of 
spectators,  both  ecclesiastics  and  laymen  ;  the  solemn  services  were  concluded 
by  the  brotherhood,  who  joined  in  an  anthem  of  thanksgiving  and  praise  to 
the  Almighty,  to  whom  so  glorious  a  monument  was  to  be  reared  in  this 
mountain-wilderness. " 

The  rude  sierra  now  swarmed  with  life.  The  ground  was  covered  with  tents 
ajid  huts.  The  busy  hum  of  labour  mingled  with  the  songs  of  the  labourers, 
which,  from  their  various  dialects,  betrayed  the  different,  and  oftentimes 
distant,  provinces  from  which  they  had  come.  In  this  motley  host  the  greatest 
order  and  decorum  prevailed ;  nor  were  the  peaceful  occupations  of  the  day 
interrupted  by  any  indecent  brawls. 

As  the  work  advanced,  Philip's  visits  to  the  Escorial  were  longer  and  more 
frequent.  He  had  always  shown  his  love  for  the  retirement  of  the  cloister,  by 
passing  some  days  of  every  year  in  it.  Indeed,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  keeping 
Holy  Week  not  far  from  tne  scene  of  his  present  labours,  at  the  convent  of 
Guisando.  In  his  present  monastic  retreat  he  had  the  additional  interest 
afforded  by  the  contemplation  of  the  great  work,  which  seemed  to  engage  as 
much  of  his  thoughts  as  any  of  the  concerns  of  government. 

Philip  had  given  a  degree  of  attention  to  the  study  of  the  fine  arts  seldom 
found  in  persons  of  his  condition.  He  was  a  connoisseur  in  painting,  and, 
above  all,  in  architecture,  making  a  careful  study  of  its  principles,  and 
occasionally  furnishing  designs  with  his  own  hand.10  No  prince  of  his  time 
left  behind  him  so  many  proofs  of  his  taste  and  magnificence  in  building. 
The  royal  mint  at  Segovia,  the  hunting-seat  of  the  Pardo,  the  pleasant  resi- 
dence of  Aranjuez,  the  alcazar  of  Madrid,  the  "Anneria  Real,"  and  other 
noble  works  which  adorned  his  infant  capital,  were' either  built  or  greatly 
embellished  by  him.  The  land  was  covered  with  structures,  both  civil  and 
religious,  which  rose  under  the  royal  patronage.  Churches  and  convents — the 
latter  in  lamentable  profusion — constantly  met  the  eye  of  the  traveller.  The 
general  style  of  their  execution  was  simple  in  the  extreme.  Some,  like  the 

11  "Jurihame  mochas  veces  llorando    el  p.  23. 

dlcho  fray  Antonio  que  tnuchaft  veces  alzando  '"  Ibid.,  p.  25,  et  seq.— Siguen;a,  Hist,  de 

cautamente  los  (.Jos  v!6  correr  por  Ion  dp  S.  M.  1 1  Orden  de  S*u  Geronlmo,  torn.  lii.  p.  546. 
lilffrlmaa  :  UnU  era  *u  devorlon  niezclada  con  "    ••  Trnia  tarta  de>trec,a  en  di-poner  laa 

el  aleftrfa  de  verse  en  aqm-lla  pobreza  y  ver  trnoa«dc  Palacion,  Castillo*,  Jardinra.  y  otras 

trds  erto  aqnella  alta  Idea  qu<-  en  HU  mente  rn'aft,  que  quando  Francisco  de  Mora  ml  Tio 

trala  de  la  ^randeza  ,i  quo  pcnsaba  levantar  Tracador  mayor  guyo,  y  Juan  de  Hrrrera  su 

aqnella   pequeftex  del   dlvlno    culto."      Me-  Anteo-Mor  le  trai.t'n  la  prlnura  plants,  assi 

nioHaft  de  Fray  Junn  de  San  Oeronlmo,  Docu-  mandava  qollar,  6  pnner,  6  mudar,  como  si 

mentos  InWiV*.  ubl  supra  fnera  un  VltniMo."   Dicboa  y  llecbos  dePho- 

"  "i  Para  Irvantar  tanta  frfbrica  menerter  Ilpe  II.,  p.  181. 
eran  actoa  de  bumlldad  tan  profnnda !  "  Ibid., 


870  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

great  cathedral  of  Valladolid,  of  more  pretension,  but  still  showing  the  same 
austere  character  in  their  designs,  furnished  excellent  models  of  architecture 
to  counteract  the  meretricious  tendencies  of  the  age.  Structures  of  a  different 
kind  from  these  were  planted  by  Philip  along  the  frontiers  in  the  north  and 
on  the  southern  coasts  of  the  kingdom  ;  and  the  voyager  in  the  Mediterranean 
beheld  fortress  after  fortress  crowning  the  heights  above  the  shore,  for  its 
defence  against  the  Barbary  corsair.  Nor  was  the  king's  passion  for  building 
confined  to  Spain.  Wherever  his  armies  penetrated  in  the  semi-civilized 
regions  of  the  New  World,  the  march  of  the  conqueror  was  sure  to  be  traced 
by  the  ecclesiastical  and  military  structures  which  rose  in  his  rear. 

Fortunately,  similarity  of  taste  led  to  the  most  perfect  harmony  between 
the  monarch  and  his  architect  in  their  conferences  on  the  great  work  which 
was  to  crown  the  architectural  glories  of  Philip's  reign.  The  king  inspected 
the  details,  and  watched  over  every  step  in  the  progress  of  the  building,  with 
as  much  care  as  Toledo  himself.  In  order  to  judge  of  the  effect  from  a 
distance,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  climbing  the  mountains  at  a  spot  about  half 
a  league  from  the  monastery,  where  a  kind  of  natural  chair  was  formed  by 
the  crags.  Here,  with  his  spy-glass  in  his  hand,  he  would  sit  for  hours  and  gaze 
on  the  complicated  structure  growing  up  below.  The  place  is  still  known  as 
the  "king's  seat."21 

It  was  certainly  no  slight  proof  of  the  deep  interest  which  Philip  took  in  the 
work  that  he  was  content  to  exchange  his  palace  at  Madrid  for  a  place  that 
a 'Forded  him  no  better  accommodations  than  the  poverty-stricken  village  of 
the  Escorial.  In  1571  he  made  an  important  change  in  these  accommoda- 
tions, by  erecting  a  chapel  which  might  afford  the  monks  a  more  decent  house 
of  worship  than  their  old  weather-beaten  hovel ;  and  with  this  he  combined  a 
comfortable  apartment  for  himself.  In  these  new  quarters  he  passed  still 
more  of  his  time  in  cloistered  seclusion  than  he  had  done  before.  Far  from 
confining  his  attention  to  a  supervision  of  the  Escorial,  he  brought  his  secre- 
taries and  his  papers  along  with  him,  read  here  his  despatches  from  abroad, 
and  kept  up  a  busy  correspondence  with  all  parts  of  his  dominions.  He  did 
four  times  the  amount  of  work  here,  says  a  Jeronymite,  that  he  did  in  the 
same  number  of  days  in  the  capital.22  He  used  to  boast  that,  thus  hidden 
from  the  world,  with  a  little  bit  of  paper,  he  ruled  over  both  hemispheres. 
That  he  did  not  always  wisely  rule  is  proved  by  more  than  one  of  his  despatches 
relating  to  the  affairs  of  Flanders,  which  issued  from  this  consecrated  place. 
Here  he  received  accounts  of  the  proceedings  of  his  heretic  subjects  in  the 
Netherlands,  and  of  the  Morisco  insurgents  in  Granada.  And  as  he  pondered 
on  their  demolition  of  church  and  convent,  and  their  desecration  of  the  most 
holy  symbols  of  the  Catholic  faith,  he  doubtless  felt  a  proud  satisfaction  in 
proving  his  own  piety  to  the  world  by  the  erection  of  the  most  sumptuous 
edifice  ever  dedicated  to  the  Cross. 

In  1577  the  Escorial  was  so  far  advanced  towards  completion  as  to  afford 
accommodations  not  merely  for  Philip  and  his  personal  attendants,  but  for 
many  of  the  court,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  spending  some  time  there  with 
the  king  during  the  summer.  On  one  of  these  occasions  an  accident 
occurred  which  had  nearly  been  attended  with  most  disastrous  consequences 
to  the  building. 

A  violent  thunder-storm  was  raging  in  the  mountains,  and  the  lightning 
struck  one  of  the  great  towers  of  the  monastery.  In  a  short  time  the  upper 

-'  Lafuente,  Histuria  de  Kspana,  torn.  xiii.  mas  en  un  dia  que  en  Madrid  en  qnatro." 
p.  253.  Sigueniga,  Hist,  de  laOrden  de  San  Geronimo- 

M  "Sabese  de  cierto  que  se  negociava  aqui        torn.  iii.  p.  575. 


THE  ESCORIAL.  671 

portion  of  the  building  was  in  a  blaze.  So  much  of  it,  fortunately,  was  of 
solid  materials  that  the  fire  made  slow  progress.  But  the  difficulty  of  bring- 
ing water  to  bear  on  it  was  extreme.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  at  night  when  the 
fire  broke  out,  and  in  the  orderly  household  of  Philip  all  had  retired  to  rest. 
They  were  soon  roused  by  the  noise.  The  king  took  his  station  on  the 
opposite  tower,  and  watched  with  deep  anxiety  the  progress  of  the  flames. 
The  duke  of  Alva  was  one  among  the  guests.  Though  sorely  afflicted  with 
the  gout  at  the  time,  he  wrapped  his  dressing-gown  about  him  and  climbed  to 
a  spot  which  afforded  a  still  nearer  view  of  the  conflagration.  Here  the 
"  good  duke  "  at  once  assumed  the  command,  and  gave  his  orders  with  as  much 
promptness  and  decision  as  on  the  field  of  battle.2* 

All  the  workmen,  as  well  as  the  neighbouring  peasantry,  were  assembled 
there.  The  men  showed  the  same  spirit  of  subordination  which  they  had 
shown  throughout  the  erection  of  the  building.  The  duke's  orders  were 
implicitly  obeyed  ;  and  more  than  one  instance  is  recorded  of  daring  self- 
devotion  among  the  workmen,  who  toiled  as  if  conscious  they  were  under  the 
eve  of  their  sovereign.  The  tower  trembled  under  the  fury  of  the  flames ;  and 
the  upper  portion  of  it  threatened  every  moment  to  fall  in  ruins.  Great  fears 
were  entertained  that  it  would  crush  the  hospital,  situated  in  that  part  of  the 
monastery.  Fortunately,  it  fell  in  an  opposite  direction,  carrying  with  it  a 
splendid  chime  of  bells  that  was  lodged  in  it,  but  doing  no  injury  to  the 
spectators.  The  loss  which  bore  most  heavily  on  the  royal  heart  was  that  of 
sundry  inestimable  relics  which  perished  in  the  flames.  But  Philip's  sorrow 
was  mitigated  when  he  learned  that  a  bit  of  the  true  cross,  and  the  right  arm 
of  St.  Lawrence,  the  martyred  patron  of  the  Escorial,  were  rescued  from  the 
flames.  At  length,  by  incredible  efforts,  the  fire,  which  had  lasted  till  six  in 
the  morning,  was  happily  extinguished,  and  Philip  withdrew  to  his  chamber, 
where  his  first  act,  we  are  told,  was  to  return  thanks  to  the  Almighty  for  the 
preservation  of  the  building  consecrated  to  his  service.24 

The  king  was  desirous  that  as  many  of  the  materials  as  possible  for  the 
structure  should  be  collected  from  his  own  dominions.  These  were  so  vast, 
and  so  various  in  their  productions,  that  they  furnished  nearly  every  article 
required  for  the  construction  of  the  edifice,  as  well  as  for  its  interior  decora- 
tion. The  gray  stone  of  which  its  walls  jvere  formed  was  drawn  from  a  neigh- 
bouring quarry.  It  was  called  berromtena. — a  stone  bearing  a  resemblance  to 
granite,  though  not  so  hard.  The  blocks  hewn  from  the  quarries,  and  dressed 
there,  were  of  such  magnitude  as  sometimes  to  require  forty  or  fiftv  yoke  of 
oxen  to  drag  them.  The  jasper  came  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Burgo  de 
Osma.  The  more  delicate  marbles,  of  a  great  variety  of  colours,  were  furnished 
by  the  mountain-ranges  in  the  south  of  the  Peninsula.  The  costly  and  elegant 
fabrics  were  many  of  them  siipplied  by  native  artisans.  Such  were  the  damasks 
and  velvets  of  Granada.  Other  cities,  as  Madrid,  Toledo,  and  Saragossa, 
showed  the  proficiency  of  native  art  in  curious  manufactures  of  bronze  and 
iron,  and  occasionally  of  the  more  precious  metals. 

Yet  Philip  was  largely  indebted  to  his  foreign  possessions,  especially  those 
in  Italy  ana  the  Low  Countries,  for  the  embellishment  of  the  interior  of  the 
edifice,  which,  in  its  sumptuous  style  of  decoration,  presented  a  contrast  to  the 
stern  simplicity  of  its  exterior.  Milan,  so  renowned  at  that  period  for  its  fine 

"  "El  bnen  T>nqn«  de  Alba,  annqm  «n  v1«to  en  otroo  tnayoren  pelifrron  en  la  guerre." 

vejex  7  gota  no  l«  d.-ilwin  lagar,  *«  subl6  &  lo  Mrm»ri*ft  <ic   Kr.'iy  Juan  de  San  Ueronimo, 

alto  de  la  torre  li  dar  animo  y  egfnerso  4  Ion  Documontos  tn&iluw.  totu.  vll.  p.  197. 

ofiri.ilp*  y  gent«;  .  .  .  y  euro  lo  hacia  S.  E.  "  Ibid.,  p.  201. 
rotno  dletitro  capltan  y  como  quivn  ae  babla 


672  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

workmanship  in  steel,  gold,  and  precious  stones,  contributed  many  exquisite 
specimens  of  art.  The  walls  were  clothed  with  gorgeous  tapestrie's  from  the 
Flemish  looms.  Spanish  convents  vied  with  each  other  in  furnishing  embroi- 
deries for  the  altars.  Even  the  rude  colonies  in  the  New  World  had  their  part 
in  the  great  work,  and  the  American  forests  supplied  their  cedar  and  ebony 
and  richly-tinted  woods,  which  displayed  all  their  magical  brilliancy  of  colour 
under  the  hands  of  the  Castilian  workman.25 

Though  desirous  as  far  as  possible  to  employ  the  products  of  his  own 
dominions  and  to  encourage  native  art,  in  one  particular  he  resorted  almost 
exclusively  to  foreigners.  The  oil-paintings  and  frescoes  which  profusely 
decorated  the  walls  and  ceilings  of  the  Escorial  were  executed  by  artists  drawn 
chiefly  from  Italy,  whose  schools  of  design  were  still  in  their  glory.  But,  of  all 
living  painters,  Titian  was  the  one  whom  Philip,  like  his  father,  most  delighted 
to  honour.  To  the  king's  generous  patronage  the  world  is  indebted  for  some 
of  that  great  master's  noblest  productions,  which  found  a  fitting  place  on  the 
walls  of  the  Escorial. 

The  prices  which  Philip  paid  enabled  him  to  command  the  services  of  the 
most  eminent  artists.  Many  anecdotes  are  told  of  his  munificence.  He  was, 
however,  a  severe  critic.  He  did  not  prematurely  disclose  his  opinion.  But 
when  the  hour  came,  the  painter  had  sometimes  the  mortification  to  find  the 
work  he  had  executed,  it  may  be  with  greater  confidence  than  skill,  perempto- 
rily rejected,  or  at  best  condemned  to  some  obscure  corner  of  the  building. 
This  was  the  fate  of  an  Italian  artist,  of  much  more  pretension  than  power, 
who,  after  repeated  failures  according  to  the  judgment  of  the  king, — which 
later  critics  have  not  reversed, — was  dismissed  to  his  own  country.  But  even 
here  Philip  dealt  in  a  magnanimous  way  with  the  unlucky  painter.  "  It  is 
not  Zuccaro's  fault,"  he  said,  "  but  that  of  the  persons  who  brought  him  here  ; " 
and  when  he  sent  him  back  to  Italy  he  gave  him  a  considerable  sum  of  money 
in  addition  to  his  large  salary.16 

Before  this  magnificent  pile,  in  a  manner  the  creation  of  his  own  taste, 
Philip's  nature  appeared  to  expand,  and  to  discover  some  approach  to  those 
generous  sympathies  for  humanity  which  elsewhere  seem  to  nave  been  denied 
him.  He  would  linger  for  hours  while  he  watched  the  labours  of  the  artist, 
making  occasional  criticisms,  and  laying  his  hand  familiarly  on  his  shoulder.27 
He  seemed  to  put  off  the  coldness  and  reserve  which  formed  so  essential  a  part 
of  his  character.  On  one  occasion,  it  is  said,  a  stranger,  having  come  into  the 
Escorial  when  the  king  was  there,  mistook  him  for  one  of  the  officials,  and 
asked  him  some  questions  about  the  pictures.  Philip,  without  undeceiving 
the  man,  humoured  his  mistake,  and  good-naturedly  undertook  the  part  of 
cicerone,  by  answering  his  inquiries  and  showing  him  some  of  the  objects 
most  worth  seeing.28  Similar  anecdotes  have  been  told  of  others.  What 
is  strange  is  that  Philip  should  have  acted  the  part  of  the  good-natured 
man. 

In  1584  the  masonry  of  the  Escorial  was  completed.  Twenty-one  years  had 
elapsed  since  the  first  stone  of  the  monastery  was  laid.  This  certainly  must 
be  regarded  as  a  short  period  for  the  erection  of  so  stupendous  a  pile.  St. 
Peter's  church,  with  which  one  naturally  compares  it  as  the  building  nearest 
in  size  and  magnificence,  occupied  more  than  a  century  in  its  erection,  which 
spread  over  the  reigns  or  at  least  eighteen  popes.  But  the  Escorial,  with  the 

"  Siguenfa,  Hist,  de  la  Orden  de  San  Gero-  ""  Stirling,  Annals  of  the  Artists  of  Spain, 

nim",  torn.  iii.  p.  596. — Dichos  y  Hechos  de  torn.  i.  p.  211. 

Phelipe  II.,  p.  289.— Lafuente,  Hist,  de  Es-  '"  Ibid.,  p.  203. 

pafia,  torn.  xiv.  p.  427.  »  Dicbos  y  Hechos  de  Phelipe  II.,  p.  81. 


THE  ESCORIAL.  673 

exception  of  the  subterraneous  chapel  constructed  by  Philip  the  Fourth  for 
the  burial-place  of  the  Spanish  princes,  was  executed  in  the  reign  of  one 
monarch.  That  monarch  held  in  his  hands  the  revenues  of  both  the  Old 
World  and  the  New  ;  and,  as  he  gave  in  some  sort  a  personal  supervision  to 
the  work,  we  may  be  sure  that  no  one  was  allowed  to  sleep  on  his  post. 

Yet  the  architect  who  designed  the  building  was  not  permitted  to  complete 
it.  Long  before  it  was  finished,  the  hand  of  Toledo  had  mouldered  in  the  dust 
By  his  death  it  seemed  that  Philip  had  met  with  an  irreparable  loss.  He  felt 
it  to  be  so  himself,  and  with  great  distrust  consigned  the  important  task  to 
Juan  de  Herrera,  a  young  Asturian.  But,  though  young,  Herrera  had  been 
formed  on  the  best  models ;  for  he  was  the  favourite  pupil  of  Toledo,  and  it 
soon  appeared  that  he  had  not  only  imbibed  the  severe  and  elevated  tastes  of 
his  master,  but  that  his  own  genius  fully  enabled  him  to  comprehend  all 
Toledo's  great  conceptions,  and  to  carry  them  out  as  perfectly  as  that  artist 
could  have  done  himself.  Philip  saw  with  satisfaction  that  he  had  made  no 
mistake  in  his  selection.  He  soon  conferred  as  freely  with  the  new  architect  as 
he  had  done  with  his  predecessor.  He  even  showed  him  greater  favour, 
settling  on  him  a  salary  of  a  thousand  ducats  a  year  and  giving  him  an  office 
in  the  royal  household,  and  the  cross  of  St.  lago.  Herrera  had  the  happiness 
to  complete  the  EscoriaL  Indeed,  he  lived  some  six  years  after  its  completion. 
He  left  several  works,  both  civil  and  ecclesiastical,  which  perpetuate  his  fame. 
But  the  Escorial  is  the  monument  by  which  his  name,  and  that  of  his  master. 
Toledo,  have  come  down  to  posterity  as  those  of  the  two  greatest  architects  of 
whom  Spain  can  boast. 

This  is  not  the  place  for  criticism  on  the  architectural  merits  of  the  Escorial. 
Such  criticism  more  properly  belongs  to  a  treatise  on  art.  It  has  been  my 
object  simply  to  lay  before  the  reader  such  an  account  of  the  execution  of  this 
great  work  as  would  enable  him  to  form  some  idea  of  the  object  to  which  Philip 
devoted  so  large  a  portion  of  his  time,  and  which  so  eminently  reflected  his 
peculiar  cast  of  mind. 

Critics  have  greatly  differed  from  each  other  in  their  judgments  of  the 
EscoriaL  Few  foreigners  have  been  found  to  acquiesce  in  the  undiluted  pane- 
gyric of  those  Castilians  who  pronounce  it  the  eighth  wonder  of  the  world.2* 
Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  few  foreigners  are  qualified  to  decide  on  the 
merits  of  a  work,  to  judge  of  which  correctly  requires  a  perfect  understanding 
of  the  character  of  the  country  in  which  it  was  built,  and  of  the  monarch  who 
built  it  The  traveller  who  gazes  on  its  long  lines  of  cold  gray  stone,  scarcely 
broken  by  an  ornament,  feels  a  dreary  sensation  creeping  over  him,  while  he 
contrasts  it  with  the  lighter  and  more  graceful  edifices  to  which  his  eye  has 
been  accustomed.  But  he  may  read  in  this  the  true  expression  of  the  founder's 
character.  Philip  did  not  aim  at  the  beautiful,  much  less  at  the  festive  and 
cheerful  The  feelings  which  he  desired  to  raise  in  the  spectator  were  of  that 
solemn,  indeed  sombre  complexion  which  corresponded  best  with  his  own  reli- 
gious faith. 

Whatever  defects  may  be  charged  on  the  Escorial,  it  is  impossible  to  view  it 
from  a  distance,  and  see  the  mighty  pile  as  it  emerges  from  the  gloomy  depths 
of  the  mountains,  without  feeling  how  perfectly  it  conforms  in  its  aspect  to 
the  wild  and  melancholy  scenery  of  the  sierra.  Nor  can  one  enter  the  conse- 
crated precincts  without  confessing  the  genius  of  the  place,  and  experiencing 

••  One  of  lt«  tiMorUim,  Father  Francisco  do        Monarterlo  de  San  Lororrao  de  el  Kucoria 
JMJMitoa,  ttylen  It, on  his  title-page,  "  t'mca        (Madrid,  1698). 
Maramlla  del  Mundo."     De«crl|cioudel  lieal 

2  x 


674  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

sensations  of  a  mysterious  awe  as  he  wanders  through  the  desolate  halls,  which 
fancy  peoples  with  the  solemn  images  of  the  past. 

The  architect  of  the  building  was  embarrassed  by  more  than  one  difficulty 
of  a  very  peculiar  kind.  It  was  not  simply  a  monastery  that  he  was  to  buildL 
The  same  edifice,  as  we  have  seen,  was  to  comprehend  at  once  a  convent,  a 
palace,  and  a  tomb.  It  was  no  easy  problem  to  reconcile  objects  so  discordant 
and  infuse  into  them  a  common  pnnciple  of  unity.  It  is  no  reproach  to  the 
builder  that  he  did  not  perfectly  succeed  in  this,  and  that  the  palace  should 
impair  the  predominant  tone  of  feeling  raised  by  the  other  parts  of  the  struc- 
ture, looking  in  fact  like  an  excrescence,  rather  than  an  integral  portion  of  the 
edifice. 

Another  difficulty,  of  a  more  whimsical  nature,  imposed  on  the  architect, 
was  the  necessity  of  accommodating  the  plan  of  the  building  to  the  form  of  a 
gridiron,*— as  typical  of  the  kind  of  martyrdom  suffered  by  the  patron  saint  of 
the  Escorial.  Thus,  the  long  lines  of  cloisters,  with  their  intervening  courts, 
served  for  the  bars  of  the  instrument ;  the  four  lofty  spires  at  the  corners  of 
the  monastery  represented  its  legs  inverted;  and  the  palace,  extending  its 
slender  length  on  the  east,  furnished  the  awkward  handle. 

It  is  impossible  for  language  to  convey  any  adequate  idea  of  a  work  of  art. 
Yet  architecture  has  this  advantage  over  the  sister  arts  of  design,  that  the 
mere  statement  of  the  dimensions  helps  us  much  in  forming  a  conception  of 
the  work.  A  few  of  these  dimensions  will  serve  to  give  an  idea  of  the  magni- 
tude of  the  edifice.  They  are  reported  to  us  by  Los  Santos,  a  Jeronymite 
monk,  who  has  left  one  of  the  best  accounts  of  the  Escorial. 

The  main  building,  or  monastery,  he  estimates  at  seven  hundred  and  forty 
Castilian  feet  in  length  by  five  hundred  and  eighty  in  breadth.  Its  greatest 
height,  measured  to  the  central  cross  above  the  dome  of  the  great  church,  is 
three  hundred  and  fifteen  feet.  The  whole  circumference  of  the  Escorial, 
including  the  palace,  he  reckons  at  two  thousand  nine  hundred  and  eighty 
feet,  or  near  three-fifths  of  a  mile.  The  patient  inquirer  tells  us  there  were 
no  less  than  twelve  thousand  doors  and  windows  in  the  building ;  that  the 
weight  of  the  keys  alone  amounted  to  fifty  arrobas,  or  twelve  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds ;  ana,  finally,  that  there  were  sixty-eight  fountains  playing  in  the 
halls  and  courts  of  this  enormous  pile.30 

The  cost  of  its  construction  and  interior  decoration,  we  are  informed  by 
Father  Siguen$a,  amounted  to  very  neak six  millions  of  ducats.*1  Siguenga 
was  prior  of  the  monastery,  and  had  access,  of  course,  to  the  best  sources  of 
information.  That  he  did  not  exaggerate,  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that 
he  was  desirous  to  relieve  the  building  from  the  imputation  of  any  excessive 
expenditure  incurred  in  its  erection, — a  common  theme  of  complaint,  it  seems, 
and  one  that  was  urged  with  strong  marks  of  discontent  by  contemporary 
writers.  Probably  no  single  edifice  ever  contained  such  an  amount  and  variety 
of  inestimable  treasures  as  the  Escorial, — so  many  paintings  and  sculptures  by 
the  greatest  masters, — so  many  articles  of  exquisite  workmanship,  composed 
of  the  most  precious  materials.  It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  when 
the  building  was  finished  the  labours  of  Philip  were  at  an  end.  One  might 
almost  say  they  were  but  begun.  The  casket  was  completed ;  but  the 
remainder  of  his  days  was  to  be  passed  in  filling  it  with  the  rarest  and  richest 
gems.  This  was  a  labour  never  to  be  completed.  It  was  to  be  bequeathed  to 
his  successors,  who,  with  more  or  less  taste,  but  with  the  revenues  of  the 

30  Los  Santos,  Description  del  Escorial,  fol.  31  Sigupnga,  Hist,  de  la  Orden  de  San  Gero- 

UC.  nimu,  torn.  iii.  p.  862. 


ANNE   OF    AUSTRIA. 


QUEEN  ANNE.  675 

Indies  at  their  disposal,  continued  to  lavish  them  on  the  embellishment  of  the 
Escorial1* 

Philip  the  Second  set  the  example.  He  omitted  nothing  which  could  give 
a  value,  real  or  imaginary,  to  his  museum.  He  gathered  at  an  immense  cost 
several  hundred  cases  of  the  bones  of  saints  and  martyrs,  depositing  them  in 
rich  silver  shrines  of  elaborate  workmanship.  He  collected  four  thousand 
volumes,  in  various  languages,  especially  the  Oriental,  as  the  basis  of  the  fine 
library  of  the  Escorial. 

The  care  of  successive  princes,  who  continued  to  spend  there  a  part  of  every 
year,  preserved  the  palace-monastery  and  its  contents  from  the  rude  touch  of 
Time.  But  what  the  hand  of  Time*had  spared  the  hand  of  violence  destroyed. 
The  French,  who  in  the  early  part  of  the  present  century  swept  like  a  horde 
of  Vandals  over  the  Peninsula,  did  not  overlook  the  Escorial.  For  in  it  they 
$aw  the  monument  designed  to  commemorate  their  own  humiliating  defeat. 
A  body  of  dragoons  under  La  Houssaye  burst  into  the  monastery  in  the  winter 
of  1808 ;  and  the  ravages  of  a  few  days  demolished  what  it  had  cost  years  and 
the  highest  efforts  of  art  to  construct.  The  apprehension  of  similar  violence 
from  the  Carlists,  in  1837,  led  to  the  removal  of  the  finest  paintings  to  Madrid. 
The  Escorial  ceased  to  be  a  royal  residence.  Tenantless  and  unprotected,  it 
was  left  to  the  fury  of  the  blasts  which  swept  down  the  hills  of  the 
Guadarrama. 

The  traveller  who  now  visits  the  place  will  find  its  condition  very  different 
from  what  it  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  century.  The  bare  and  mildewed 
walls  no  longer  glow  with  the  magical  tints  of  Raphael  and  Titian  and  the 
sober  pomp  of  the  Castilian  school  The  exquisite  specimens  of  art  with  which 
the  halls  were  filled  have  been  wantonly  demolished,  or  more  frequently  pilfered 
for  the  sake  of  the  rich  materials.  The  monks,  so  long  the  guardians  of  the 
place,  have  shared  the  fate  of  their  brethren  elsewhere  since  the  suppression 
of  religious  houses,  and  their  venerable  forms  have  disappeared.  Silence  and 
solitude  reign  throughout  the  courts,  undisturbed  by  any  sound  save  that  of 
the  ceaseless  winds,  which  seem  to  be  ever  chanting  their  melancholy  dirge 
over  the  faded  glories  of  the  EscoriaL  There  is  little  now  to  remind  one  of 
the  palace  or  of  the  monastery.  Of  the  three  great  objects  to  which  the 
edifice  was  devoted,  one  alone  survives, — that  of  a  mausoleum  for  the  royal 
line  of  Castile.  The  spirit  of  the  dead  broods  over  the  place,— of  the  sceptred 
dead,  who  lie  in  the  same  dark  chamber  where  they  have  lain  for  centuries, 
unconscious  of  the  changes  that  have  been  going  on  all  around  them. 

During  the  latter  half  of  Philip's  reign  he  was  in  the  habit  of  repairing  with 
his  court  to  the  Escorial  and  passing  here  a  part  of  the  summer.  Hither  he 
brought  his  young  queen,  Anne  of  Austria, — when  the  gloomy  pile  assumed 
an  unwonted  appearance  of  animation.  In  a  previous  chapter  the  reader  has 
seen  some  notice  of  his  preparations  for  his  marriage  with  that  princess,  in 
less  than  two  years  after  he  had  consigned  the  lovely  Isabella  to  the  tomb. 
Anne  had  been  already  plighted  to  the  unfortunate  Don  Carlos.  Philip's 
marriage  with  her  afforded  him  the  melancholy  triumph  of  a  second  time  sup- 

"  The  enthusiasm  of  Fray  Alonso  de  San  akin  to  blaophemy  as  it  would  be  thought  In 

Geronlmo  carries  him  BO  far  that  he  does  not  our  day.  occurs  in  a  panegyric  delivered  at  the 

hesitate  to  declare  that  the  Almighty  owes  a  Escorial  on  the  occasion  of  a  solemn  festival 

debt  of  gratitude  to  Philip  the  Second  for  the  In  honour  of  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  its 

dedication  of  so  glorious  a  structure  to  the  foundation.    A  volume  compiled  by  Fray  Luis 

CtirlKtlan   worst) ip  !    "  Erte  Templo,   Sefior,  de  Santa  Maria  is  filled  with  a  particular 

deve  4  Filipo  Segundo  vuentra  Grandeza ;  am  account  of  tbe  ceremonies,  under  the  title  of 

que  gratitud  le  estani  mlrando,  en  el  Impireo,  "  Octava  sagra<lan>ente  rulta,  cclebrada  en  la 

vuestra  I)h  inidad !  "—This  language,  so  near  Octava  Maravilla,"  etc.  (Madrid,  1664,  folio). 


676  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

planting  his  son.  She  was  his  niece  ;  for  the  Empress  Mary,  her  mother,  was 
the  daughter  of  Charles  the  Fifth.  There  was,  moreover,  a  great  disparity  in 
their  years  ;  for  the  Austrian  princess,  haying  been  born  in  Castile  during  the 
regency  of  her  parents,  in  1549,  was  at  this  time  but  twenty-one  years  of  age, 
—less  than  half  the  age  of  Philip.  It  does  not  appear  that  her  father,  the 
Emperor  Maximilian,  made  any  oojection  to  the  match.  If  he  felt  any,  he 
was  too  politic  to  prevent  a  marriage  which  would  place  his  daughter  on 
the  throne  of  the  most  potent  monarchy  in  Europe. 

It  was  arranged  that  the  princess  should  proceed  to  Spain  by  the  way  of 
the  Netherlands.  In  September,  1570,  Anne  bade  a  last  adieu  to  her  father's 
court,  and  with  a  stately  retinue  set  out  on  her  long  journey.  On  entering 
Flanders  she  was  receivea  with  great  pomp  by  the  duke  of  Alva,  at  the  head 
of  the  Flemish  nobles.  Soon  after  her  arrival,  Queen  Elizabeth  despatched  a 
squadron  of  eight  vessels,  with  offers  to  transport  her  to  Spain,  and  an  invita- 
tion for  her  to  visit  England  on  her  way.  These  offers  were  courteously 
declined  ;  and  the  German  princess,  escorted  by  Count  Bossu,  captain-general 
of  the  Flemish  navy,  with  a  gallant  squadron,  was  fortunate  in  reaching  the 

Slace  of  her  destination,  after  a  voyage  of  less  than  a  week.    On  the  third  of 
ctober  she  landed  at  Santander,  on  the  northern  coast  of  Spain,  where  she 
found  the  archbishop  of  Seville  and  the  duke  of  Bejar,  with  a  brilliant  train 
of  followers,  waiting  to  receive  her. 

Under  this  escort,  Anne  was  conducted  by  the  way  of  Burgos  and  Valladolid 
to  the  ancient  city  of  Segovia.  In  the  great  towns  through  which  she  passed, 
she  was  entertained  in  a  style  suited  to  ner  rank  ;  and  everywhere  along  her 
route  she  was  greeted  with  the  hearty  acclamations  of  the  people.  For  the 
match  was  popular  with  the  nation ;  and  the  cortes  had  urged  the  long  to 
expedite  it  as  much  as  possible.**  The  Spaniards  longed  for  a  male  heir  to 
the  crown ;  and  since  the  death  of  Carlos,  Philip  had  only  daughters  remaining 
to  him. 

In  Segovia,  where  the  marriage-ceremony  was  to  be  performed,  magnificent 
preparations  had  been  made  for  the  reception  of  the  princess.  As  she  approached 
that  city,  she  was  met  by  a  large  body  of  the  local  militia,  dressed  in  gay 
uniforms,  and  by  the  municipality  of  the  place,  arrayed  in  their  robes  of  office 
and  mounted  on  horseback.  With  this  brave  escort  she  entered  the  gates. 
The  streets  were  ornamented  with  beautiful  fountains,  and  spanned  by 
triumphal  arches,  under  which  the  princess  proceeded,  amidst  the  shouts  of 
the  populace,  to  the  great  cathedral.*4 

Anne,  then  in  the  oloom  of  youth,  is  described  as  having  a  rich  and  delicate 
complexion.  Her  figure  was  good,  her  deportment  gracious,  and  she  rode  her 
richly -caparisoned  palfrey  with  natural  ease  and  dignity.  Her  not  very  im- 

? J-;-dthe  novelty 

feathers,  and 
ichly  fringed  with  gold.34 

After  Te  Deum  had  been  chanted,  the  splendid  procession  took  its  way  to 
the  far-famed  alcazar,  that  palace-fortress,  originally  built  by  the  Moors, 
which  now  served  both  as  a  royal  residence  and  as  a  place  of  confinement  for 
prisoners  of  state.  Here  it  was  that  the  unfortunate  Montigny  passed  many 
a  weary  month  of  captivity ;  and  less  than  three  months  had  elapsed  since  he 
had  been  removed  from  the  place  which  was  so  soon  to  become  the  scene  of 
royal  festivity,  and  consigned  to  the  fatal  fortress  of  Simancas,  to  perish  by 

"  Florez, Reynas  Catholicas,  torn.  ii.  p.  905.        del  camino,  sombrero  alto  matizado  con  plu- 
14  Ibid.,  p.  908.  mas,  capotillo  de  terclopelo  cannesf,  bordudo 

**  "  Bealzada  con  gracia  por  e»  mismo  trage       de  oro  a.  la  moda  Bobema."    Ibid.,  p.  907. 


QUEEN  ANNE.  677 

the  hand  of  the  midnight  executioner.  Anne,  it  may  be  remembered,  was 
said,  on  her  journey  through  the  Low  Countries,  to  have  promised  Montigny's 
family  to  intercede  with  her  lord  in  his  behalf.  But  the  king,  perhaps  waling 
to  be  spared  the  awkwardness  of  refusing  the  first  boon  askea  by  his  young 
bride,  disposed  of  his  victim  soon  after  her  landing,  while  she  was  yet  in  the 
north. 

Anne  entered  the  alcazar  amidst  salvoes  of  artillery.  She  found  there  the 
good  Princess  Joanna,  Philip's  sister,  who  received  her  with  the  same  womanly 
kindness  which  she  had  shown  twelve  years  before  to  Elizabeth  of  France, 
when,  on  a  similar  occasion,  she  made  her  first  entrance  into  Castile.  The 
marriage  was  appointed  to  take  place  on  the  following  day,  the  fourteenth  of 
November.  Philip,  it  is  said,  obtained  his  first  view  of  his  betrothed  when, 
mingling  in  disguise  among  the  cavalcade  of  courtiers,  he  accompanied  her 
entrance  into  the  capital.18  When  he  had  led  his  late  queen,  Isabella,  to  the 
altar,  some  white  hairs  on  his  temples  attracted  her  attention.*7  During  the 
ten  years  which  had  since  elapsed,  the  cares  of  office  had  wrought  the  same 
effect  on  him  as  on  his  father,  and  turned  his  head  prematurely  gray.  The 
marriage  was  solemnized  with  great  pomp  in  the  cathedral  of  Segovia.  The 
service  was  performed  by  the  archbishop  of  Seville.  The  spacious  building 
was  crowded  to  overflowing  with  spectators,  among  whom  were  the  highest 
dignitaries  of  the  Church  and  the  most  illustrious  of  the  nobility  of  Spain.*8 

During  the  few  days  which  followed,  while  the  royal  pair  remained  in 
Segovia,  the  city  was  abandoned  to  iubilee.  The  auspicious  event  was  cele- 
brated by  public  illuminations  and  by  magnificent  flies,  at  which  the  king 
and  queen  danced  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  court,  who  stood  around  in 
respectful  silence."  On  the  eighteenth,  the  new-married  couple  proceeded  to 
Madrid,  where  such  splendid  preparations  had  been  made  for  their  reception 
as  evinced  the  loyalty  of  the  capital. 

As  soon  as  the  building  of  the  Escorial  was  sufficiently  advanced  to  furnish 
suitable  accommodations  for  his  young  queen,  Philip  passed  a  part  of  every 
summer  in  its  cloistered  solitudes,  which  had.  more  attraction  for  him  than 
any  other  of  his  residences.  The  presence  of  Anne  and  her  courtly  train 
diffused  something  like  an  air  of  gayety  over  the  grand  but  gloomy  pile,  to 
which  it  had  been  little  accustomed.  Among  other  diversions  for  her  enter- 
tainment we  find  mention  made  of  autos  sacramentales,  those  religious  dramas 
that  remind  one  of  the  ancient  Mysteries  and  Moralities  which  entertained 
our  English  ancestors.  These  autos  were  so  much  in  favour  with  the  Span- 
iards as  to  keep  possession  of  the  stage  longer  than  in  most  other  countries ; 
nor  did  they  receive  their  full  development  until  they  had  awakened  the 
genius  of  Calderon. 

It  was  a  pen,  however,  bearing  little  resemblance  to  that  of  Calderon  which 
furnished  these  edifying  dramas.  They  proceeded,  probably,  from  some  Jerony- 
mite  gifted  with  a  more  poetic  vein  than  his  brethren.  Tne  actors  were  taken 
from  among  the  pupils  in  the  seminary  established  in  the  Escorial.  Anne, 
who  appears  to  have  been  simple  in  her  tastes,  is  said  to  have  found  much 
pleasure  in  these  exhibitions,  and  in  such  recreation  as  could  be  afforded  her 
by  excursions  into  the  wild,  romantic  country  that  surrounded  the  monastery. 
Historians  have  left  us  but  few  particulars  of  her  life  and  character, — much 
fewer  than  of  her  lovely  predecessor.  Such  accounts  as  we  liave  represent 

14  Florex,  Rey  nas  Catholic**,  ubl  supra.  "  "  En  e\  Ktrao  ballaron  Hey  y  Reyna,  eo- 

"  Ante,  p.  178.  bin. I.,  de  pie  toda  U  Cort«."    Florez,  Keynas 

"•  Florez,  Uoynas  Cathollcas,  torn.  II.  p.  908.  CaUioliow,  torn.  U.  p.  908. 
—Cabrera,  Klllpc  Segundo.  p.  661. 


678  DOMESTIC  AFFAIRS  OF  SPAIN. 

her  as  of  an  amiable  disposition  and  addicted  to  pious  works.  She  was  rarely 
idle,  and  employed  much  of  her  time  in  needle- work,  leaving  many  specimens 
of  her  skill  in  this  way  in  the  decorations  of  the  convents  and  churches.  A 
rich  piece  of  embroidery,  wrought  by  her  hands  and  those  of  her  maidens, 
was  long  preserved  in  the  royal  chapel,  under  the  name  of  "  Queen  Anne's 
tapestry." 

Her  wedded  life  was  destined  not  to  be  a  long  one,-K>nly  two  years  longer 
than  that  of  Isabella.  She  was  blessed,  however,  with  a  more  numerous 
progeny  than  either  of  her  predecessors.  She  had  four  sons  and  a  daughter. 
But  all  died  in  infancy  or  early  childhood  except  the  third  son,  who  as  Philip 
the  Third  lived  to  take  his  place  in  the  royal  dynasty  of  Castile. 

The  queen  died  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  October,  1580,  in  the  thirty-first 
year  of  ner  age  and  the  eleventh  of  her  reign.  A  singular  anecdote  is  told  in 
connection  with  her  death.  This  occurred  at  Badajoz,  where  the  court  was 
then  established,  as  a  convenient  place  for  overlooking  the  war  in  which  the 
country  was  at  that  time  engaged  with  Portugal.  While  there  the  king  fell 
ill  The  symptoms  were  of  the  most  alarming  character.  The  queen,  in  her 
distress,  implored  the  Almighty  to  spare  a  life  so  important  to  the  welfare  of 
the  kingdom  and  of  the  Church,  and  instead  of  it  to.  accept  the  sacrifice  of 
her  own.  Heaven,  says  the  chronicler,  as  the  result  showed,  listened  to  her 
prayer.4*  The  king  recovered  ;  and  the  queen  fell  ill  of  a  disorder  which  in  a 
few  days  terminated  fatally.  Her  remains,  after  lying  in  state  for  some  time, 
were  transported  with  solemn  pomp  to  the  Escorial,  where  they  enjoyed  the 
melancholy  pre-eminence  of  being  laid  in  the  quarter  of  the  mausoleum 
reserved  exclusively  for  kings  and  the  mothers  of  kings.  Such  was  the  end 
of  Anne  of  Austria,  the  fourth  and  last  wife  of  Philip  the  Second. 

«o  "El  efecto  dijo,  que  oy6  Dios  su  oracion.:  pues  mejorando  el  Rey,  cay6  mala  la  Reyna." 
Florez,  Reynas  Catbolicas,  torn.  ii.  p.  913. 


TUB  END. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


PK  7  2  2004 

REC'D  YRL  APR  1 


:004 


A     001  017  815 

sin' 

^Jl  t 


">•        ^lOS-ANGHfj^ 


^LIBRARY 


HIBRARYQr 


